thedrifter
04-10-08, 07:46 AM
REGION: Real-life role players
By GARY WARTH - Staff Writer
CAMP PENDLETON --- Sixteen years after fleeing Iraq in fear for his life, Wisam Said has found a way to fight for his homeland.
Sometimes he does it as an interpreter. Sometimes he's a military police officer.
Every once in a while, he's an insurgent.
"It's just acting," he said with a shrug when asked which role he most likes playing.
Said, 36, was one of two Iraqis who took part in a recent training exercise at Camp Pendleton. The training, conducted inside a converted tomato-packing plant, features a simulated Iraqi village where troops experience sniper attacks, bomb blasts and rocket-propelled grenade assaults.
The brick walls look real, the faux marketplace mirrors a typical Iraqi bazaar, and even the musty air evokes memories of Iraq, according to Marines who've been there.
What can't be simulated is the insight into ordinary Iraqis. That's where Said comes in.
"I help my country, and I help these guys," he said of the role-playing he performs.
On this day, Said served as an interpreter for a sheik played by Mounir Hajjar, a Lebanese native who has lived in the U.S. for 37 years.
Casting call
Hajjar, Said and Iraqi native Sally Shamoon, a five-year U.S. resident who also participated in the day's exercise, are employed by Strategic Operations.
Owned by Stu Segall, producer of the television shows "Veronica Mars" and "Silk Stalkings," the company provides movie-quality special effects, sets and actors for military training exercises.
"We call it 'hyper-realistic,'" said Kit Lavell, executive vice president of Strategic Operations. "We provide everything from role players ---- actors who speak the language and know the customs and the background of the country ---- to pyrotechnics and special effects that simulate very realistic battlefields."
Lavell said the studio's involvement with the military was happenstance.
The Drug Enforcement Administration had opened an office just down the road from Stu Segall Productions in Kearny Mesa, and one day some agents came running up the hill with guns in hand because they thought they heard shots.
After discovering the shootout wasn't real, the agents stuck around ---- and then had an idea.
Many of the studio sets built for action scenes were going unused, as still-fresh memories of the 9/11 terror attacks had shut down numerous productions, Lavell said. Soon, the empty sets were put to use training local and state law enforcement officers.
When the Iraq war started in 2003, some of the officers who had trained at the studio and were Marine reservists were recalled to active duty. After some asked to return to the studio for more training, Segall formed Strategic Operations.
The studio already was working with some Iraqis. Since San Diego County is second only to Detroit in the number of Iraqi residents, word quickly spread that work was available for them with Strategic Operations, Lavell said.
Very special effects
While professional pyrotechnicians provide the flashes and bangs that simulate combat, Middle Eastern actors such as Hajjar, Said and Shamoon add an authenticity that wouldn't exist without them.
But they're not just there to act. Before the Marines don protective face masks and pick up prop rifles for the actual exercise, they get a lesson in cultural awareness from Hajjar and Shamoon.
"I feel if I help the Marines and armed forces to make their lives easier, there will be less killing," Hajjar said.
Knowing a few key phrases could be the difference between life and death, and Hajjar's talk included lessons on how to say "tafteesh" (search), "agof" (stop) and "imshee" (go away from here).
Said, who worked as a theater actor in Russia and Germany after leaving a similar career in Baghdad in 1992, said he has coached Marines on how to identify possible insurgents just by their accent.
"Kalb," for instance, is the Iraqi word for dog. Iraqis themselves pronounce the word "chalb," but someone from Syria or Russia would pronounce the word with a hard "k."
A Marine who hears that should suspect the man is a mercenary or at least wonder, "What's he doing here?" Said suggested.
Shamoon talked to the class about the proper way to deal with Iraqi women. Men should not talk to or touch women they don't know, said Shamoon, who also advised the Marines to hire a local woman to work at checkpoints where females have to be searched.
A serviceman who searches a woman may later find himself in danger from the woman's family, she cautioned.
Hajjar also told the troops how to talk to a sheik, a lesson that was put to the test later that afternoon.
Meet the sheik
Inside the tomato plant where the base established its "Infantry Immersion Trainer" last year, Hajjar and Said sat at a small table in a room resembling a sheik's home. Chairs, cups, a teapot and a Quran on a pedestal served to indicate the room was home to a holy man.
The exercise began with a group of Marines entering the building and winding their way through narrow halls until the squad leader found the sheik's room.
"You guys speak English?" the Marine asked from behind a face mask, which protected his eyes from paint pellets used as ammunition and other flying debris. Introductions were made, and Said began answering his questions about the village.
"Is everything good with y'all?" the Marine asked. Said responded, saying the villagers had no clean water, medicine or food.
"Can you help secure the village?" Said continued. The Marine told him he would see about recruiting some Iraq police to work the village. As the visit drew to an end, Said asked what they could do to help the Americans, and the Marine said to ask everybody to stay out of the way.
Suddenly an ear-splitting explosion shook the building. The screams of a man in pain and a woman in hysterics bounced off the walls as Marine boots stomped across the ground in another room. From a rooftop somewhere, a sniper opened fire. A Marine fell to the ground and rifles crackled in retaliation.
Meanwhile, Shamoon was playing the role of a terrified merchant. With hands flailing, she screamed in horror as just yards away, another actor, an actual double amputee hired by Stu Segall, played a blood-drenched victim in the throes of agony.
The exercise ended when the Marines dragged their wounded compatriot from the building, and then gathered for a debriefing.
After the fight
At the other side of the building, Hajjar, Said and Shamoon were outside for some fresh air.
"He did a couple of mistakes," Hajjar said, critiquing the Marine he met while role-playing. "We teach them in culture class to look at the sheik eye to eye all the time. He looked at the interpreter."
More serious, the Marine also didn't ask for details about where insurgents might be hiding, said Hajjar, adding, "So I didn't tell him."
All in all, Hajjar said the Marine did "fairly all right."
Besides playing a sheik, Hajjar may be asked to assume a number of roles for the training exercise. Sometimes, he even has to play an insurgent.
"I don't enjoy it as much, because I don't feel myself to be the bad guy," he said.
Contact staff writer Gary Warth at (760) 740-5410 or gwarth@nctimes.com.
Ellie
By GARY WARTH - Staff Writer
CAMP PENDLETON --- Sixteen years after fleeing Iraq in fear for his life, Wisam Said has found a way to fight for his homeland.
Sometimes he does it as an interpreter. Sometimes he's a military police officer.
Every once in a while, he's an insurgent.
"It's just acting," he said with a shrug when asked which role he most likes playing.
Said, 36, was one of two Iraqis who took part in a recent training exercise at Camp Pendleton. The training, conducted inside a converted tomato-packing plant, features a simulated Iraqi village where troops experience sniper attacks, bomb blasts and rocket-propelled grenade assaults.
The brick walls look real, the faux marketplace mirrors a typical Iraqi bazaar, and even the musty air evokes memories of Iraq, according to Marines who've been there.
What can't be simulated is the insight into ordinary Iraqis. That's where Said comes in.
"I help my country, and I help these guys," he said of the role-playing he performs.
On this day, Said served as an interpreter for a sheik played by Mounir Hajjar, a Lebanese native who has lived in the U.S. for 37 years.
Casting call
Hajjar, Said and Iraqi native Sally Shamoon, a five-year U.S. resident who also participated in the day's exercise, are employed by Strategic Operations.
Owned by Stu Segall, producer of the television shows "Veronica Mars" and "Silk Stalkings," the company provides movie-quality special effects, sets and actors for military training exercises.
"We call it 'hyper-realistic,'" said Kit Lavell, executive vice president of Strategic Operations. "We provide everything from role players ---- actors who speak the language and know the customs and the background of the country ---- to pyrotechnics and special effects that simulate very realistic battlefields."
Lavell said the studio's involvement with the military was happenstance.
The Drug Enforcement Administration had opened an office just down the road from Stu Segall Productions in Kearny Mesa, and one day some agents came running up the hill with guns in hand because they thought they heard shots.
After discovering the shootout wasn't real, the agents stuck around ---- and then had an idea.
Many of the studio sets built for action scenes were going unused, as still-fresh memories of the 9/11 terror attacks had shut down numerous productions, Lavell said. Soon, the empty sets were put to use training local and state law enforcement officers.
When the Iraq war started in 2003, some of the officers who had trained at the studio and were Marine reservists were recalled to active duty. After some asked to return to the studio for more training, Segall formed Strategic Operations.
The studio already was working with some Iraqis. Since San Diego County is second only to Detroit in the number of Iraqi residents, word quickly spread that work was available for them with Strategic Operations, Lavell said.
Very special effects
While professional pyrotechnicians provide the flashes and bangs that simulate combat, Middle Eastern actors such as Hajjar, Said and Shamoon add an authenticity that wouldn't exist without them.
But they're not just there to act. Before the Marines don protective face masks and pick up prop rifles for the actual exercise, they get a lesson in cultural awareness from Hajjar and Shamoon.
"I feel if I help the Marines and armed forces to make their lives easier, there will be less killing," Hajjar said.
Knowing a few key phrases could be the difference between life and death, and Hajjar's talk included lessons on how to say "tafteesh" (search), "agof" (stop) and "imshee" (go away from here).
Said, who worked as a theater actor in Russia and Germany after leaving a similar career in Baghdad in 1992, said he has coached Marines on how to identify possible insurgents just by their accent.
"Kalb," for instance, is the Iraqi word for dog. Iraqis themselves pronounce the word "chalb," but someone from Syria or Russia would pronounce the word with a hard "k."
A Marine who hears that should suspect the man is a mercenary or at least wonder, "What's he doing here?" Said suggested.
Shamoon talked to the class about the proper way to deal with Iraqi women. Men should not talk to or touch women they don't know, said Shamoon, who also advised the Marines to hire a local woman to work at checkpoints where females have to be searched.
A serviceman who searches a woman may later find himself in danger from the woman's family, she cautioned.
Hajjar also told the troops how to talk to a sheik, a lesson that was put to the test later that afternoon.
Meet the sheik
Inside the tomato plant where the base established its "Infantry Immersion Trainer" last year, Hajjar and Said sat at a small table in a room resembling a sheik's home. Chairs, cups, a teapot and a Quran on a pedestal served to indicate the room was home to a holy man.
The exercise began with a group of Marines entering the building and winding their way through narrow halls until the squad leader found the sheik's room.
"You guys speak English?" the Marine asked from behind a face mask, which protected his eyes from paint pellets used as ammunition and other flying debris. Introductions were made, and Said began answering his questions about the village.
"Is everything good with y'all?" the Marine asked. Said responded, saying the villagers had no clean water, medicine or food.
"Can you help secure the village?" Said continued. The Marine told him he would see about recruiting some Iraq police to work the village. As the visit drew to an end, Said asked what they could do to help the Americans, and the Marine said to ask everybody to stay out of the way.
Suddenly an ear-splitting explosion shook the building. The screams of a man in pain and a woman in hysterics bounced off the walls as Marine boots stomped across the ground in another room. From a rooftop somewhere, a sniper opened fire. A Marine fell to the ground and rifles crackled in retaliation.
Meanwhile, Shamoon was playing the role of a terrified merchant. With hands flailing, she screamed in horror as just yards away, another actor, an actual double amputee hired by Stu Segall, played a blood-drenched victim in the throes of agony.
The exercise ended when the Marines dragged their wounded compatriot from the building, and then gathered for a debriefing.
After the fight
At the other side of the building, Hajjar, Said and Shamoon were outside for some fresh air.
"He did a couple of mistakes," Hajjar said, critiquing the Marine he met while role-playing. "We teach them in culture class to look at the sheik eye to eye all the time. He looked at the interpreter."
More serious, the Marine also didn't ask for details about where insurgents might be hiding, said Hajjar, adding, "So I didn't tell him."
All in all, Hajjar said the Marine did "fairly all right."
Besides playing a sheik, Hajjar may be asked to assume a number of roles for the training exercise. Sometimes, he even has to play an insurgent.
"I don't enjoy it as much, because I don't feel myself to be the bad guy," he said.
Contact staff writer Gary Warth at (760) 740-5410 or gwarth@nctimes.com.
Ellie