7 November 2004
Phantoms close in on a ghost town
With plans laid and the ground prepared, 10,000 troops gear up to strike a rebel stronghold, reports Toby Harnden with the US Marines near Fallujah
THE SOLDIERS of "Phantom troop", from the US Army’s 1st Infantry Division, had moved to within 700 metres of the eastern boundary of Fallujah early yesterday, gaining their first view of the rebel-held city.
"It's a ghost town out there," said Staff Sgt Robert Walker, gazing at the city through a thermal imaging sight. "Those warehouses and stuff are pretty much blown to hell."
US units had bombarded Fallujah into the early hours yesterday to try to draw out enemy fighters before an assault involving more than 10,000 troops, which could be a decisive battle for Iraq's future.
"A-Hour" is the phrase used by the US Army to describe the moment that its co-ordinated offensive will start. As the designated time drew near, Abrams tanks, Bradley fighting vehicles, Humvees and armoured personnel carriers rolled out of a nearby base towards the city.
The biggest display of force by American troops for weeks met little resistance from the Fallujah fighters. Red tracer bullets fired by marine units flashed across the horizon and bombs levelled buildings. An unmanned drone relayed images to US commanders. Apache attack helicopters swooped low over the streets.
Maj Gen Richard Natonski, in charge of ground forces, briefed his commanders. He said that he wanted a "deliberate, aggressive, rapid offensive manoeuvre".
A white phosphorous shell illuminated the sky as 155mm rounds from a Paladin howitzer fired from miles away landed on insurgent positions. "The kill radius for a mortar is 15 metres," said Sgt 1st Class Dwayne Coffey, an artilleryman whose team fired two of the shells. "If it hits a house it's gone, and next door gets some too."
Loudspeaker announcements in Arabic declared that any male under 45 caught trying to leave the city would be arrested. US Marines, meanwhile, sealed the border with Syria to prevent fighters fleeing. Leaflets told residents not to drive their cars. The threat of car bombs is so high that any vehicle in the city, moving or parked, is likely to be destroyed.
For months, no US forces had crossed the main north-south road, known to soldiers as "Main Supply Route Mobile", into the no-man's land between it and the city. There was evidence that insurgents had dug trenches and created berms to slow vehicles down.
According to the troops, the muted response to Friday's attacks could indicate that the fighters had withdrawn into the heart of the city for a last stand. Alternatively, they could have read the move as a "feint" and decided not to betray their key positions.
"No effects are coming our way and I don't believe the marines are receiving any," a Phantom troop soldier reported over the radio. "They're just dishing it out."
The soldiers are not, however, complacent. Capt Kirk Mayfield, commanding the Phantoms, said that he expected stiff resistance after A-hour. Six men have been killed and a dozen wounded from the close-knit unit since it arrived in Iraq, and he is braced for casualties.
There was, he said, a threat from Soviet-made DHsK machine guns, which fire armour-piercing rounds, as well as car bombs and rocket-propelled grenades. He felt apprehensive but also proud to be part of the battle. "I've been preparing for this my whole career," he said.
Members of the Iraqi Intervention Force, the most capable Iraqi military unit, are expected to be told to secure key parts of the city once American troops have taken them over. American commanders said that "A-Hour" for the Fallujah offensive would be preceded by "D-Day", on which US Special Forces and other units would raid targets to pave the way for the main thrust.
Although 11th-hour peace overtures were made by some Sunni groups opposed to the US-led occupation, there appeared little hope of any negotiated solution, as had been achieved in the besieged Shia holy city of Najaf in August.
Iraq's Defence Ministry said: "A military operation is the last and only solution we have for the city of Fallujah. The negotiations failed. It seemed like the Fallujah people are helping the terrorists. Thus, the military solution will end the crisis."
First Sgt Luther Lancaster, the senior NCO with the Phantoms, said that an easy victory against the 3,000 or so insurgents was far from assured. "These guys have had nearly eight months to prepare, but then again it could be a pretty nasty day for them," he said. "Our biggest concern is getting caught by booby traps. It could go either way."
8 November 2004
Insurgents put final touches to defences By Toby Harnden, near Fallujah
INSURGENTS in the rebel-held city of Fallujah put the finishing touches to a sophisticated network of tunnels and heavy defensive fortifications yesterday as American commanders prepared their troops for battle.
Anything from 2,000 to 5,000 fighters were thought to be digging into the Sunni bastion in preparation for a last stand. With more than six months to prepare for the assault, American intelligence officers believed the insurgents would be well prepared.
But there were indications that many fighters had been fleeing Fallujah, as they sought to broaden the battlefield by detonating car bombs across the country, assassinating key Iraqi officials and slaughtering members of the new Iraqi security forces.
Although a cordon had been thrown around the city by last night, in recent weeks people have been free to come and go. Intelligence officers said they thought that Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the Jordanian behind many of the suicide bombings and beheadings, was probably in Mosul or Baghdad.
Tunnels are expected to be used as escape routes and for fighters to cross the city from weapons dump to weapons dump. There are also numerous "strong points", some fortified with concrete, where up to 20 hardcore foreign fighters are likely to gather when hostilities begin.
The insurgents have probably calculated that they cannot hold off American forces in Fallujah for long. But, by maximising the number of civilian casualties and spreading attacks elsewhere to feed a sense of spiralling chaos, they believe they can win a broader strategic victory.
About 12,000 US marines and soldiers are expected to be sent to storm the city, which fell to Sunni insurgents in April.
8 November 2004
‘Cash on the spot - if they tell us where the weapons are' By Toby Harnden near Fallujah
WHEN Capt Kirk Mayfield of the US army goes into battle he will have Abrams tanks, Bradley fighting vehicles and sniper teams at his disposal. But one of his most important instruments of war will be in his back pocket - a thick wad of dollar bills.
"I'm going to get five grand," he told his platoon commanders at one of their final briefings yesterday. "If they tell us where the weapons caches are, where the IEDs [improvised explosive devices] and the bad guys are, we'll give them cash on the spot." Capt Mayfield, commander of Phantom troop of the 2-2 Task Force, emphasised that intelligence gathered on the battlefield could not only save the lives of American soldiers but also lay the foundations for stabilising the city after victory had been secured.
"How much do we give them?" asked a lieutenant. "50 bucks? 100 bucks?" Capt Mayfield said $50 was probably appropriate depending on the quality of the information - but the Iraqi would first have to lead the troops to what they wanted.
Standing by a tent in front of a large aerial photograph of a sector of the city taken from an unmanned drone, Capt Mayfield pointed out mosques and schools on a "no strike list" of 217 places in Fallujah that must be spared.
One member of his troop was Sgt Kimberly Snow, a "combat camera" photographer whose job was to record what happened in the battle to prevent the insurgents later boosting their cause with propaganda. "If they're firing out of a mosque or a hospital I don't care where she is, bring Sgt Snow forward. So when we level that thing, we have pictures to show they were using it as a bad place," said Capt Mayfield. He urged his men to play close attention to where they were firing. "God forbid I don't need to blow up a mosque and somebody yells about it," he said.
Lt-Col Pete Newell told Task Force 2-2's 500 soldiers at a dusty staging post in the main base outside Fallujah that sparing as much of the city as possible was second only to that of preserving the lives of their comrades and the 40,000 or so civilians still left.
"We don't want to rubble the city. Somebody has got to come in after us. We want Fallujah to understand what democracy's all about." But he added: "That doesn't mean you have to tolerate any shit from second-floor windows." The battle would be "personal" because of the losses the unit had already sustained. "That pile of crap has got to be cleaned out," he said as troops responded with cries of "Hoo-ah".
Maximum aggression had to be used. "Keep hammering targets and if you see a guy with an AK-47, I expect you to hose him with a .50 calibre machine-gun," said Capt Mayfield. If firing was identified from a house, then artillery fire should be called in to "pancake the building". Moving vehicles should be destroyed as potential suicide bombs and stationary ones hit with armour-piercing rounds. "See if it blows up or not. We'll pay everyone for their cars later." Maj John Reynolds, the task force operations officer, said money would also be paid out for any civilians killed.
Such payments, of up to $2,500, may seem callous but were readily accepted by Iraqis who had a different cultural view of death. "Our experience is that when we've done that, families have come back and said that no one ever said they were sorry before."
Lt Col Newell ended his rousing speech by saying the fight would be tough but an enemy that didn't "give a rat's ass about civilians, morals or the ethics of war" deserved to die.
9 November 2004
‘I got my kills . . . I just love my job'
Toby Harnden in Fallujah observes American soldiers of the 1st Infantry Division taskforce avenging their fallen comrades as battle begins
AMONG the first enemy kills of the battle of Fallujah were those scored by the soldiers of Phantom troop who picked off insurgents from rooftops and windows as they approached their "holding position", from where hours later they would advance into the city.
After seven months in Iraq's Sunni heartlands, for many the opportunity to avenge dead friends by taking a life was a moment of sheer exhilaration.
"I got myself a real juicy target," shouted Sgt James Amyett, peering through the thermal sight of a Long Range Acquisition System (LRAS) mounted on one of Phantom's Humvees.
"Prepare to copy - 89089226. Direction 202 degrees. Range 950 metres. I got five motherf---rs in a building with weapons."
Capt Kirk Mayfield, commander of the Phantoms, called for fire from his task force's mortar team. But Sgt Amyett didn't want to wait. "Dude, give me the sniper rifle. I can take them out - I'm from Arkansas."
Two minutes tick by. "They're moving deep," shouted Sgt Amyett with disappointment. A dozen loud booms rattle the sky and smoke rose as mortars rained down on the co-ordinates the sergeant had given.
"Yeah," he yelled. "Battle Damage Assessment - nothing. Building's gone. I got my kills, I'm coming down. I just love my job."
Phantom Troop had rolled out of Camp Fallujah, the main US military base, shortly before 4am. All morning they took fire from the Al-Askari district in Fallujah's north-east, their target for the invasion proper.
The insurgents, not understanding the capabilities of the LRAS, crept along rooftops and poked their heads out of windows. Even when they were more than a mile away, the soldiers of Phantom Troop had their eyes on them.
Lt Jack Farley, a US Marines officer, sauntered over to compare notes with the Phantoms. "You guys get to do all the fun stuff," he said. "It's like a big ass video game. We've taken small arms fire here all day. It just sounds like popcorn going off."
Another marine stepped forward and began to fire an M4 rifle at the city. "He's a reservist for the San Diego police. He wants a piece of the action, too".
A Phantom Abrams tank moved up the road running along the high ground. Its barrel, stencilled with the words "Ali Baba and the 3 Thieves" swivelled towards the city and then fired a 120mm round at a house where two men with AK-47s had been pinpointed. "Ain't nobody moving now," shouted a soldier as the dust cleared. "He rocked that guy's world."
One of Phantom's sniper teams laid down fire into the city with a Barrett .50 calibre rifle and a Remington 700. A suspected truck bomb was riddled with bullets, the crack of the Barrett echoing through the mainly deserted section of the city. The insurgents fired 60mm mortars back, one of them wounding a soldier.
There were 25mm rounds from Phantom's Bradley fighting vehicles, barrages from Paladin howitzers back at Camp Fallujah and bursts of fire from .50 calibre machine guns. One by one, the houses used by the insurgents were destroyed.
"Everybody's curious," grinned Sgt Amyett as he waited for a sniper with a Russian-made Dragonov to show his face one last, fatal time. A bullet zinged by.
Dusk fell and 7pm, "A hour", the appointed hour to move into the city, approached. The soldiers of Phantom all reflected.
"Given the choice, I would never have wanted to fire a gun," said Cpl Chris Merrell, 21, manning a machine gun mounted on a Humvee. "But it didn't work out that way. I'd like a thousand boring missions rather than one interesting one."
On his wrist was a black bracelet bearing the name of a sergeant from Phantom Troop. "This is a buddy of mine that died," he said. "Pretty much everyone in the unit has one."
One fear playing on the mind of the task force was that of "friendly fire", also known as "blue on blue".
"Any urban fight is confusing," Lt Col Newell, the force's commander, told his troops before the battle. "The biggest threat out there is not them, but us."
His officers said that the plan to invade Fallujah involved months of detailed planning and elaborate "feints" designed to draw the insurgents out into the open and fool them into thinking the offensive would come from another side of the city.
"They're probably thinking that we'll come in from the east," said Capt Natalie Friel, an intelligence officer with task force, before the battle. But the actual plan involves penetrating the city from the north and sweeping south.
"I don't think they know what's coming. They have no idea of the magnitude," she said. "But their defences are pretty circular. They're prepared for any kind of direction. They've got strong points on all four corners of the city."
10 November 2004
'This is where the foreign fighters hang out' By Toby Harnden in Fallujah
THE flimsy metal door was ripped off its hinges as a hefty boot from a Legion platoon soldier made decisive contact. Inside the small room lay an AK-47 rifle, alarm clock parts and a handwritten notebook in Farsi. Moments earlier, the gunman, thought to be Iranian, had fled as Legion, Hunter and Outlaw platoons of the US army's Task Force 2-2 undertook one of the more dangerous tasks of the battle for Fallujah.
Clearing buildings door to door in a guerrilla stronghold is risky at any time. Into the bargain this time, the platoons from Phantom troop had been ordered to sweep Fallujah's industrial zone, a haven for foreign fighters.
Also in the room was a red-and-white keffiyeh, a bag of bandages, an optical sight typical of those used by a sniper and a pile of photographs of Arab men, including one in a similar keffiyeh, of military age, and boxes of ammunition.
Moving deliberately through the area, the Phantoms came under sniper, mortar and small arms fire and had to negotiate mines and other explosives.
Remarkably, they had completed a third of their task by nightfall yesterday without suffering a single casualty.
But although the Persian notebook, which contained at least one e-mail address, could be of intelligence value, the soldiers did not find any insurgents, either alive or dead.
"It's weird how we killed so many people last night but haven't seen any bodies today," said Specialist Nick Price of Legion platoon. "Where are they?"
The bodies of Arab fighters tend to be recovered quickly so they can be buried by sunrise the next day, in accordance with Muslim custom. But the paucity of insurgents could indicate that many had fled Fallujah to fight another day.
Having fought through the night, the Phantoms were battling against fatigue. Sleep was grabbed in morsels while sitting in the back of their Bradley fighting vehicle.
Fear was another enemy. The industrial zone, in the south-east corner of Fallujah, was thought to be the site of two car-bomb factories and had been the target of bombardment for months.
"This is all bad guys," said Capt Kirk Mayfield, commander of the Phantoms, pointing at an aerial photograph of the area. "Every sigint [electronic intercept], every humint [informant report] tells us this is where all the foreign fighters hang out."
Briefing his squad, Sgt Jamal Alexander could sense the apprehension. "You all know what you're getting into," he said. "Stay alert and stay alive. There aren't any friendlies in there. Anybody walks up, you kill them."
The sniper fire began almost immediately. So too did the mortars, sending earth showering the tin roofs of the warehouses and workshops as they landed up to 50 yards away.
"There's a man in black with a weapon on that roof," shouted Sgt Ndifreke Aanam-ndu , a Nigerian who hopes to gain American citizenship by serving in the army.
He fired three shots with his M-16 as one of the Bradleys providing support blew holes in the building.
The insurgents, however, melted away. There were no bloodstains found at another firing point identified in an upstairs room, where a sniper had left 7.62mm rounds and an empty can of Red Bull energy drink.
There was an eerie silence in the industrial area, punctuated by loud explosions and the crack of gunfire. There were no signs of life and most buildings appeared to have been locked up and abandoned weeks earlier.
When a boot didn't work, Sgt Alexander pulled out a shotgun to blast the locks. In every room the soldiers entered there was the possibility of death from a cornered fighter or a building rigged with explosives.
Clambering across a pile of rubble as they came under sniper fire, Legion platoon came across a copper wire leading from a building to a plastic tube that looked likely to be filled with explosives.
In one house, the soldiers were startled by barking as they burst in. "If that bitch goes for you, shoot it," ordered one nervous NCO.
This prompted a mini-revolt from the others. "No, don't," shouted another, as three labrador puppies ran across the room while their mother cowered. The soldier stroked the dogs and apologised because he had no food.
Back in the Bradley after more than four hours of clearing the industrial area, the men turned to talking about what they would like to do when they left Iraq.
"I just want to go to Amsterdam and party," said Pte Mike Rothemeyer. "If I go to Brazil and Egypt I'll die a happy man," mused Sgt Alexander. "I want a picture of me on a camel in front of a pyramid. That would be enough."
11 November 2004
70 insurgents killed in mosque battle By Toby Harnden in Fallujah
American troops scored one of their biggest successes in the battle for Fallujah when an estimated 70 foreign fighters were killed in a massive precision artillery strike on a building in a mosque complex.
Military intelligence officers were last night trying to confirm that a "high-value target" or HVT died in the attack. The man is suspected of being a key lieutenant of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the most wanted man in Iraq, and responsible for marshalling hard-line insurgents from other Arab countries.
The strike took place on Tuesday afternoon, less than 24 hours after the invasion of the rebel-held Sunni bastion began, after an Abrams tank commander from Phantom troop, part of the US Army's Task Force 2-2, observed large numbers of men converging on a building next to a mosque.
"Guys with short brown hair, dark pants and carrying AK-47s were moving in groups of between two and five across the road to a yellow building," said Lt Neil Prakash, the tank commander.
"Then some started throwing Molotov cocktails and pouring gasoline on the road to create a smokescreen." They apparently thought the smoke would obscure them from view.
Lt Prakash, whose call-sign is Red 6, observed the scene through the optical sight of his tank, 2,400 metres away in an "area of responsibility" or AOR covered by the 1st Company, 8th Marines, west of Task Force 2-2's AOR on the eastern edge of the city.
The constraints of firing into another AOR, where US marines might be operating, and the danger of damaging the mosque, which would have provoked outrage in the Arab world, meant attacking the building had to be authorised at a very senior level.
A Humvee from Phantom troop fitted with a Long Range Acquisition System (LRAS) was moved to within two kilometres of the mosque, well inside its maximum range of 15km, to get a second opinion on what was happening. "The strike was so sensitive that it took more than an hour to approve it," said Maj John Reynolds, operations officer for 2-2. "Normally it happens in minutes."
Lt Prakash was asked to provide a grid co-ordinate, accurate to within a metre, to minimise the chance of hitting the mosque, about 50 metres from the building.
At about 3pm, the higher authorisation came through and Lt Col Pete Newell, commanding 2-2 and with the call-sign Ramrod 6, gave the order to fire a barrage of 20 155mm high-explosive shells from howitzers about three miles away from the mosque.
Specialist James Taylor, manning the LRAS, watched the burst of shells hit.
"They landed on the left side of the building and I saw three bodies fly into the air," he said. "It was awesome."
Lt Prakash radioed that the rounds were right on target and requested 10 more to ensure maximum killing effect.
"One of the men was in a sniper position on the building," said Lt Prakash. "I saw him fall off, hit the ground and bounce up. There were about five bodies that went three, four, five storeys up in the air. I'd already counted between 40 and 50 men going into that building. There were men running out, coughing and doubling over. The second lot of rounds took them out and all those who had been crossing the road.
It is believed that Task Force 2-2 hit fighters gathered to discuss how to retreat after US forces had pushed the insurgents down from the north and in from the east.
Mobile phone intercepts and reports from Iraqi informants suggested there were 70 gunmen in the building and indicated that the very senior Zarqawi lieutenant had perished. A final assessment on who died has yet to be made.
"We are hearing reports saying that the enemy is withdrawing to a central place for a final stand," said Maj Reynolds. "It's like a Gettysburg. We have surrounded the whole area."
12 November 2004
Commanders learn to respect organised hit-and-run guerrilla tactics By Toby Harnden in Fallujah
INSURGENTS in Fallujah are highly organised and using classic tactics to mount a fierce struggle against the overwhelming might of the US military, American commanders have acknowledged.
Although US forces now theoretically control nearly three quarters of the city an overall victory leading to the long-term pacification of the city is not assured. Insurgents are using low-tech methods to combat the sophistication of American forces.
With only minimal night-vision equipment, the insurgents are choosing to fight mostly in the day. Messages are often passed by bicycle courier because mobile phones are subject to jamming or electronic monitoring and cars will be bombed.
They are using their knowledge of local geography to draw troops in and fight briefly only to retreat before precision munitions can be used.
"There are holes in the backs of buildings they're fighting in and they'll rabbit jump from building to building as we prosecute engagements," said Capt Raymond Pemberton, an intelligence officer for the US army's Task Force 2-2.
Soldiers from 2-2's Scout platoon miraculously lived to tell the tale of these tactics after a fierce fire-fight on Wednesday evening. Sgt Jason Laser was entering a room in a complex of 20 buildings when he came face to face with a gunman.
"Through my night-vision goggles I could see he had a black beard and some kind of headdress. He opened fire with an AK47, hitting me in the chest and knocking me completely over. The first three of us into the building were hit."
Sgt Laser's body armour saved his life, leaving only a bruise and an impression of his dog-tags on his chest. A second bullet hit his M16 rifle and sliced into his index finger. A third grazed his neck while a forth lodged in his neck protector.
The other two soldiers were also superficially wounded and the troops were forced back. At least eight insurgents melted into the night before a JDAM bomb destroyed that part of the complex. Earlier, another insurgent has shown remarkable military skills and presence of mind. "We fired Bradley [25mm] rounds, tank rounds, incendiary grenades and everything at him and he still kept going," said Sgt. Laser.
The fighter "cooked off" a grenade - pulled the pin and waited several seconds - before coolly dropping it down a stairwell, causing the Scouts to dive for cover. When an armoured bulldozer was brought in to level the building, he shot at it before disappearing.
There is a danger that Fallujah could see a repeat of last year's Iraq invasion in which the overall objective was secured in record time, but a fierce resistance sprang up afterwards.
But there is little sign of complacency among senior officers, who give the insurgents credit for mounting a stiff defence. "They're like military organisations," said Maj John Reynolds, 2-2's operations officer. "They have platoons and they report to a company. They had observers, they put out IEDs [improvised explosive devices], they had a city-wide plan to move back."
Although the American battle plan has unfolded as predicted, so too, perhaps, has that of the insurgents, who seem to be heading for a point in the west of the city.
"Nothing has changed over the past 200 years in terms of guerrilla tactics," said Capt Pemberton. "They are co-ordinating their movements and setting up ambushes. Tactically it's a sound operation. They're not fighting a fixed fight."
Bombs and mines were planted to disrupt the American advance while fortified positions and dugouts were expertly created in the east in preparation for a breach from that direction.
In fact, the breach came from the north, but the insurgents had planned for all eventualities.
The US commander, Maj Gen Richard Natonski, said 18 US servicemen and five Iraqi government soldiers have been killed in action since the start of the assault. He said 69 American and 34 Iraqi fighters had been wounded. The marines have had significant casualties.
Lt Col Pete Newell, 2-2's commander, said it was possible some fighters had fled before the battle began.
"The ones that were here when we started have no chance of getting out ... If they'd stand and fight it'd be a lot easier," he added.
As he spoke there was a deafening boom of US Paladin artillery guns.
"That would be the last sound they ever heard."
15 November 2004
Fighters' leaders run as Fallujah falls to US troops By Toby Harnden in Fallujah
AMERICAN commanders said last night that US forces were in control of the formerly insurgent-held city of Fallujah with only a few disorganised groups of fighters preventing a final victory being declared.
Several 2,000lb bombs were dropped to destroy enemy bunker systems and some wounded insurgents surrendered to the US-backed Iraqi Intervention Force, now patrolling large areas of the city.
Lt Gen Richard Natonski, commanding ground forces, said an estimated 1,200 insurgents and 31 American soldiers had been killed in six days of fierce fighting.
The body of a western woman, thought to be a Polish-Iraqi kidnap victim, with her arms and legs cut off, was found in the city.
Lt Col Pete Newell, commander of Task Force 2-2, which took the eastern and part of the southern portions of the city, said: "I can walk anywhere I want in the city now.
"I guess that's the definition of being in control. All the insurgents have got control of is their own feet."
The last remnants, he said, would either surrender or die. "Eventually when they run out of food and water and nobody is telling them what to do, most will quit. But some of them won't. I'm sure there are some zealots out there and the only thing to do with them will be to kill them."
US Marines re-opened the bridge to the west of the city from which the charred bodies of two American contractors had been dangled in March after they and two colleagues had been ambushed and killed.
After that incident, the city fell into the grip of the insurgents. The US Marines were ordered into the city but pulled back before they had full control.
"Maybe we learned from April," said Gen Natonski. "We learned we can't do it piecemeal. When we go in, we go all the way through. We had the green light this time and we went all the way. Had we done in April what we did now, the results would've been the same."
The re-opening of the bridge, which was secured by US Special Forces the day before the main offensive began on Monday, was laden with symbolism. "This is a big event for us," said Major Todd Des Grosseilliers before Marines rolled back razor concertina wire and swept the bridge for bombs.
Yet, despite the euphoria of a battle won and a sense that Fallujah had been pacified, there was a recognition by military commanders that many leaders of the fighters in the city had fled and planned to fight another day. Unrest in Baghdad and Mosul had already caused troops to be diverted there.
Col Craig Tucker, a Marine commander in Fallujah, said that quelling the insurgency would take time. "Whether they will pop up again here or not I don't know" he said. "You don't win this in six, seven months or a year. How long did Burma or Northern Ireland take?
"The pattern has been that the leadership flees. You're dealing with an element of leadership cowardice that's really difficult to fathom. They spout propaganda and get poor, ignorant guys all fired and then they go."
15 November 2004
Warriors spare a moment for the ones not going back By Toby Harnden in Fallujah
Captain Sean Sims had little time for formality. A relaxed and unorthodox officer, he relished being at the forefront with his men but fought with cautious deliberation rather than rushing in to confront the enemy
He led his men into Fallujah from the turret of his Bradley fighting vehicle last Monday. Five days on, the 32-year-old Texan had a thick stubble and his face was streaked with dirt as he hunched over a map and formulated the last phase of his battle plan.
Minutes later he walked casually into an apparently abandoned house in the south of the city with two soldiers. Suddenly, he was confronted with a room full of armed men who had been hopping from building to building to building his Alpha 2-2 company approached.
A hail of bullets rang out and the two soldiers retreated, both hit in the shoulder. The body of Capt Sims lay on a kitchen floor, blood seeping from a wound in his head and spreading over the dusty tiles.
Staff Sgt Colin Fitts, a combat-hardened NCO who was shot three times in the legs and arms in April but returned to Iraq itching to get back in the fight, called his squad together.
Exhausted and caked with grime after days of battling house to house, they had all stared death in the face as insurgents holed up in buildings waited for them with AK47s and rocket-propelled grenades.
Now their squad leader had something to break to them. "The CO's f---ing dead," he rasped. "And I'll tell you why. They were just a gaggle walking into some house. They weren't clearing buildings properly before going in.
"We were doing that and that's why we're living. Do not let your guard down here or you'll be the next one dead. You can all feel sorry for the CO and his family but he's dead. So let's drive on with the new chain of command."
The previous day, Capt Sims, whose wife had just given birth to their son, had lost his executive officer, Lt Edward Iwan, 28, after he was hit in the abdomen with an RPG.
"All of this will be forever tainted because we lost him," Capt Sims had said on the morning of his death.
Afterwards, no one could speak about him in the past tense. "Sean is Sean," said Lt Col Pete Newell, commander of Task Force 2-2. "He's pretty stoic. I asked him how he was doing after Lt Iwan was killed and he said, 'It hurts, we'll keep on and we'll deal with it when we get back'."
Sitting down in a building strewn with rubble and with a large hole in the ceiling from an artillery shell, soldiers from 3rd Platoon reflected on their losses. Sgt Maj Steve Faulkenburg, Task Force 2-2's senior NCO, had been killed by a sniper's bullet on the first night of the battle.
"He was the real deal," said Staff Sgt David Bellavia. "He didn't have a false bone in his body. There wasn't one fight we had when I didn't see him there, spitting Red Man [chewing tobacco] through his stained teeth."
Lt Joaquin Meno, the platoon leader, said: "Lt Iwan had a whole lot of plans to do stuff. He had just got back from Australia with a sun tan and a big smile on his face talking about all the beer he’d drank and the hot chicks he'd been with."
But the atmosphere was far from mournful. They had gone into battle with the band Dope's "Die Motherf---er Die" blaring out from the loudspeakers and survived.
Now they were celebrating victory, laughing about how they'd killed men who'd burst out at them from cupboards or been sprayed with brick fragments as bullets hit the wall behind them.
"The 1st Infantry Division has a proud heritage,” said Sgt Fitts. “We stormed the beaches at Normandy, we fought in Vietnam and Desert Storm. Just as in past conflicts, not everyone was going back this time. He shook his head. "It's a cruel world and it's war."
16 November 2004
Fallujah enemy treated by Americans By Toby Harnden in Fallujah
THE new patients at the field aid station screamed out in agony as they were gently laid on stretchers. Fresh from the battlefield, flies swarmed around their infected wounds. US Army medics barked out orders beside the makeshift triage beds.
But the four men being treated were not American soldiers. Blindfolded, stripped to the waist and each with a number felt-tipped on his torso, the tags tied to their stretchers identified them as “EPWs” – the US military acronym for enemy prisoners of war.
Disorientated and perhaps bewildered that they were being helped rather than beaten, they were surrounded not only by doctors and nurses but US Marine Corps interrogators and their translators seeking to gain “tactical intelligence” that might be of use in the continuing battle.
The four were all foreigners – three Jordanians and a Sudanese. “These were the guys shooting RPGs [Rocket Propelled Grenades] at us,” said a burly military intelligence NCO.
“They came out of their holes and just surrendered. We can’t get any straight stories. They all say they came to work.” In the confusion, The Daily Telegraph was able to talk to two of the insurgents using a French-Lebanese photographer to translate.
This was the same Task Force 2-2 field aid station where the mortally injured Lt Edward Iwan had been brought just 24 hours before. Suffering from a direct hit to the abdomen with an RPG, he died shortly after being evacuated the Bravo Surgical hospital at Camp Fallujah.
Prisoner 14/3 cried out as his shattered left leg was bandaged. It had been broken several days earlier and doctors said it might have to be amputated.
He said his name was Abbas Yousef, an 18-year-old Jordanian. “I was brought to Baghdad in a truck to work in a hotel,” he claimed when asked why he had been fighting the Americans.
“The mujahadin asked me what I was doing here. They forced me to fight. They wouldn’t let me call anyone for help. I wanted to go back Jordan.” He said that a “man from Tunis” had been in charge of him. “I was paid $100 a month and given food and supplies.”
Asked about Omar Hadid, an alleged leader of foreign fighters in the city, he at first said he was dead. “You killed my boss.” But he quickly changed his story, saying he was injured in the shoulder. “I have never seen him. I saw him only once.”
“What do you want? I can help you. I will tell you everything you want. I can get you any information you want.” He was asked if he had been involved in kidnappings. “He didn’t give me this operation,” he replied.
Prisoner 14/5’s story was equally incoherent. Suffering from a gun shot wound to the shoulder that had left an ugly, suppurating exit wound on his bicep, he said he was Mohammed Khalid, a Sudanese who had been living in Saudi Arabia.
“I know nothing about Iraq,” he shouted as a medic pressed a dressing on his arm. He came to the Iraqi town of al-Husayba on the Syrian border simply to work in a petrol station, he insisted.
Between moans as his wound was irrigated, he said he was in Fallujah to find work but had been stranded when his money and passport had been stolen. “They’re all liars,” said the military intelligence NCO.
Lt Gregory McCrum, the Task Force 2-2 medical officer, said treating prisoners showed US forces had “a higher moral compass” than the insurgents. In addition, fighters could provide valuable intelligence if captured rather than killed.
“I have a sense of animosity against these individuals due to the fact they’ve taken up arms against us. But by the same token it’s important to get them better so they can contribute information that might be able to save the life of an American.
“I don’t know what their fellow insurgents tell them or what the Arab media tells them but certainly we don’t rape women and children and torture them or any of those things.”
Beside the aid station, battle-weary Task Force 2-2 soldiers debated whether prisoners should be helped. “They made a mistake not shooting those guys,” said one. “We can’t do that dude,” another said angrily.
“That would make us barbarians. We’re Americans. They’ll go to Guantanamo Bay and have a nice little stay at our facility there.”
The Spectator (U.K. magazine)
A cat ate the face of the corpse By Toby Harnden
FALLUJAH. Slumped in a corner, his face drawn and smeared with grime after five days’ fighting through the city, Specialist Lance Ohle of the US army’s Task Force 2-2 surveyed the room. ‘Can you imagine coming into your house and finding it like this?’ he mused. ‘Oh, man.’ Every window in the cinder-block house was shattered. A 155mm shell had blown a large hole through the roof. The front gate had been crushed by a Bradley fighting vehicle and every door kicked in. Bags and suitcases left by the fleeing family had been emptied, their contents strewn across the dining-room floor and mixed with empty packets from MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) boxes, the staple diet of the troops. Only two things hung on the bullet-pocked wall — a pink Barbie plate and a photograph of a mournful-looking man with a thick moustache.
Specialist Jesse Flannery, a hefty New Englander, flipped through a copy of an American Iron motorcycle magazine he had found in a cupboard and grumbled about how bad the MRE version of clam chowder was. In the next door room, the rest of 3rd Platoon of Alpha Company, known as the Terminators, frisbeed CDs at each other and joked about the platoon member who had lost a testicle to a piece of shrapnel.
There was a dispute about who had defecated in an iron bath outside and what disease he might have been afflicted with. Everyone reeked. ‘If you spilled 10 bottles of piss on me I’d probably smell better than I do now,’ said one soldier, with only slight exaggeration. ‘Probably some of the civilians will become insurgents because of what has happened,’ said Specialist Ohle, from Orlando, Florida, home of Disney World. He had just been shooting stray dogs from the roof as a way of zeroing his M-16 rifle. ‘But this is not something they didn’t know was going to happen. We said get the hell out of Fallujah because it’s going to be destroyed. And destroyed is what it got.’
He was right. Fallujah has been devastated. Rather than risk the lives of soldiers bursting into houses where insurgents might be lying in wait with rocket-propelled grenades and AK-47s, wherever possible US forces have been blowing the building up first.
Artillery shells from Paladin howitzers, 25mm shells from Bradleys, main rounds of Abrams tanks with names like ‘Ali Baba and the 3 Thieves’ and ‘Armor Geddon’, and the devastating 1,000lb Joint Direct Attack Munition; all were used on abandoned homes across the city, and with good reason. Many houses were rigged with explosives. Others contained temporary weapons caches. The cinder-block house I was in with the Terminators had contained night-vision sights, grenades and magazines for a 9mm pistol and an AK-47.
Civilians had been given ample notice that an attack was coming. There had been broadcasts telling people to leave the city and Fallujah was littered with leaflets in Arabic saying that no one should drive. It appears that all but a few thousand — at most — of the 280,000 residents of Fallujah heeded the warnings. In a week in the north and east of the city while embedded with Task Force 2-2, I did not see a single civilian. The first civilians the unit’s soldiers came across were waving children lining up outside the Camp Fallujah base when they returned on Tuesday. The children were thrown muffins and MREs.
Despite the predictable noise about a grave humanitarian crisis and huge numbers of civilian casualties, a signal achievement of the military campaign was to clear most of the city before the troops went in. The downside, of course, was that this meant there was no element of strategic surprise. The battle of Fallujah was one of the most telegraphed engagements in modern warfare.
Repeated feints to flat ground in the east and south meant the insurgents were probably startled to face an enemy bulldozing from a massive berm from the north.
The sheer magnitude of American firepower and the willingness of commanders to use it might also have taken them aback. But the insurgents knew the attack was coming and most of the leadership, and perhaps thousands of foot soldiers, got out. ‘Insurgents have a survival instinct so when faced with overwhelming odds they run,’ said Lt Col Pete Newell, the shaven-headed, softly spoken CO of 2-2. ‘They won’t engage in a battle that they can’t win. That would be the end of the insurgency.’
The insurgency is not about to end. In classic guerrilla fashion, many of the fighters melted away to fight another day. Even as the battle for Fallujah raged, there were fresh assaults in the cities of Mosul and Baquba and violence was stepped up in Baghdad. Nor is that all. Television footage of what appears to be a US marine shooting an unarmed insurgent, as he lay wounded in a mosque where he had been fighting, could well undermine what moral superiority America still enjoys in Arab eyes. War is cruel but most American soldiers draw the line at shooting prisoners. Specialist Ohle said he took no joy in the Terminators shooting two wounded Iraqis who had attacked them from a room with AK-47s and had RPGs beside them. ‘They still had weapons in their hands so we didn’t take the chance of giving them aid. We finished them off.’
Does the fanning out of insurgents mean the battle for Fallujah was not worth fighting or that the 38 American soldiers who died, not to mention the estimated 1,200 insurgents and an unknown number of civilians, perished for nothing? No country could tolerate a small city being in the grip of men like Abu Musab al-Zarkawi, the Jordanian leader of the small band of foreign fighters in Fallujah. Neither would any government tolerate a safe haven for those who wanted to manufacture suicide car bombs or organise the beheadings of kidnap victims. The existence of ‘no go’ areas for the Iraqi police force and security forces, or anyone connected with the country’s interim government, would have condemned the forthcoming elections, due in January, to failure.
‘Is Fallujah going to be a rock the vote place? I don’t know,’ said Staff Sgt David Bellavia, a Terminator NCO able to hold forth about German revisionist history as well as how to kill people. ‘But the inmates had taken over the asylum.’ The optimistic view is that the battle of Fallujah will send a message to Iraqis that allowing their town or city to be run by insurgents — which requires local acquiescence — is simply not worth it.
But despite its symbolism as a jihadi stronghold, Fallujah is only one city in the Sunni triangle and the battle there only one engagement. There is every possibility that the insurgents will push to increase their influence in Baghdad, Samarra, Tikrit and Ramadi as well as further afield. There is ample evidence that the Sunni insurgents are an increasingly potent foe. Those that stayed behind to fight in Fallujah won the grudging respect of the more thoughtful marines and grunts, even if their commanders have portrayed the enemy as ‘these bastards’, ‘knuckleheads’ or even ‘Satan’. Staff Sgt Colin Fitts, a combat-hardened Mississippian who was shot three times back in April and returned to Iraq four months later itching to get back into the fight, said, ‘These guys really know what they’re doing here. They’re not punks, they’re not run of the mill. They know they can’t fight us from the front so they skip in behind us and hit us in our rear areas. They’re real good at manoeuvre warfare.’
Capt Sean Sims and Lt Edward Iwan, respectively the company commander and his executive officer, were both killed in areas that Task Force 2-2 thought it had secured. Capt Sims was shot dead in a kitchen, Lt Iwan hit by an RPG as he leant out of the turret of his Bradley.
Fitts, a by-the-book NCO who drives his men hard, took no chances when the ramps of the Bradleys were dropped, disgorging the Terminators so they could clear buildings. Shotgun in hand — ‘I prefer it for close quarters’ — he stood by the door of the cinder-block house and boomed out orders as his men stormed it by night. ‘We’ve got a doorway left, two doorways front,’ he shouted as the platoon piled in. ‘Short room to the right. Come on, Bravo team, stack on the stairwell.’ As well as killing Sims and Iwan, the insurgents claimed the life of 2-2’s inspirational Command Sergeant Major Steve Faulkenburg with a bullet from a Dragonov sniper’s rifle on the first night.
The insurgents had a formidable network of fortified trenches and tunnels. They used Motorola walkie-talkies or, to avoid electronic surveillance, bicycle couriers to communicate. Small stashes of weapons were left in houses so the fighters could jump from building to building rather than drag everything with them. They seemed to know every alley and hole in the city, slipping away to avoid what seemed like a certain death or sneaking in to kill. ‘They got the phantom bit right,’ said Sgt Fitts, reflecting on the American designation ‘Operation Phantom Fury’ for the battle. ‘They have been ghosts.’
With Dope’s ‘Die Motherf***er Die’ blaring out from the psychological operations Humvee, the Terminators entered Fallujah to go about their business in the way they know best. They played ‘Rage Against the Machine’ in the backs of their Bradleys and enjoyed the buzz of killing. When it was over, they sat laughing about the insurgents who had jumped out of closets to fight them or wrapped themselves in curtains to hide.
They joked about the cat they’d seen eating the face of a corpse, about the fighter who had been ‘fragged’ by a grenade and shot several times but who still managed to jump off a roof and escape. They celebrated victory but most of all they were intoxicated by being alive. ‘The 1st Infantry Division stormed the beaches in Normandy; we fought in Vietnam and Desert Storm. In the history books, Fallujah will rank alongside the battles of Grozny and Khe Sanh,’ said Sgt Fitts.
Iraq, however, cannot wait for the historians to judge. If there is any chance of stability and democracy being established here, then the forthcoming elections are the key. The battle of Fallujah was an important step. After the debacle in April when US marines were first ordered to take the city and then pulled back before they had completed the task, Operation Phantom Fury, in its conception and execution, was a necessity. But whether there is any longer an achievable solution to Iraq’s ills is another question entirely.
21 November 2004
'Hey, hurry up. You're holding up my men'
Once the fighting in Fallujah began, Toby Harnden was keen to prove he would not be a burden to his platoon. Here he reveals his life embedded with the US Army By TOBY HARNDEN
The ground rules were simple, said Lieut Nathan Braden, as he read out all 12 pages of them to our group of embedded journalists. We were to bring no drugs, no alcohol and no guns. Especially no drugs, he repeated, his gaze lingering over the longer-haired photographers. "If you have it, get rid of it. If we find it on you, we'll kick you out."
We had just been helicoptered into Camp Fallujah for what the United States marines referred to euphemistically as the likelihood of "increased activity in our area of operations". This was the attack on the rebel-held city. It was going to be a big battle and we would be part of it. First, we had to agree to behave.
In addition to forswearing all illegal substances, we promised not to print or broadcast details of battle plans, troop numbers or force locations. The names or images of dead American soldiers were not to be published until their next of kin had been informed. In return, we would have a soldier's-eye-view of the conflict. With our flak jackets marked "Press" and helmets that had our blood group scrawled on them - one wag had a sticker reading: "O+. If found injured, please apply drugs. Lots of drugs" - we joined our units.
I was assigned to the US army's Task Force 2-2. On the Thursday, I was told that the battle would start at 7pm on Monday. I knew that 24 hours earlier US Special Forces would seize the hospital on the Fallujah peninsula and secure the bridges on the west of the city. I could not report any of this. I could not even reveal where I was. "Near Fallujah" was as specific as I could get.
None of us had much difficulty with any of this. After all, anything that put the lives of soldiers at risk would be potentially just as dangerous for us. For the next two weeks we would share the vehicles, fears and possibly the fate of the troops. One reporter was to be hit by shrapnel and a photographer injured when her convoy was hit by a roadside bomb on the eve of battle.
The soldiers received me with some bewilderment. "You don't have a weapon?" asked a sergeant, brushing aside my protest that we weren't allowed to carry a gun, as I climbed into the back of his Bradley fighting vehicle. "If you change your mind, there are plenty spare."
They were also mystified that I wasn't being paid more to go into combat. "You're either crazy or have balls the size of watermelons," observed the sergeant. After that, I was treated as one of the team. The sergeant was responsible for my safety as well as that of his men.
I had already pondered the gun issue. If it came to it, I wanted to be able to use one. I had visions of being stuck in a damaged Humvee with three dead soldiers and several M16s lying around me as insurgents approached. So while in America a few months ago, I had persuaded a friend to take me to the National Rifle Association range in Virginia where I fired an AR15, the civilian variant of the M16, the US army's standard infantry rifle.
In Fallujah, I was essentially a member of the platoon. When clearing buildings, I was an extra pair of eyes. If a room had been overlooked or there was a possible sniper position nearby, I would tell the sergeant. Before becoming a journalist, I served in the British armed forces. Last week, if the distinction between journalist and soldier was becoming blurred, it was part and parcel of being an "embed".
On one occasion, I spotted a copper wire that could have been the trigger for a booby trap. The sergeant thanked me and we all stepped over it.
My view of the action was detailed but incomplete. Task Force 2-2 went only into the east and south of the city. I knew nothing of what happened elsewhere. What they saw, I saw - nothing more, nothing less.
Yet my access to them was total. Lt Col Pete Newell, Task Force 2-2's commanding officer, had a policy of transparency. I attended the main battle briefing, held over a mocked up battlefield using broken bricks for city blocks and artillery rounds for mosques. I heard the eve-of-war address at which he pointed to Fallujah and told his men: "I expect you to pile in and kick someone's ass."
During a morning command briefing, a hulking chief warrant officer saw a Washington Post reporter and me taking notes and ordered us to leave. We protested, saying that the colonel knew we were there. "Are these civilians cleared to be present?" the marine asked, halting the briefing as 30 pairs of eyes turned to us. "Yep," said Lt Col Newell, as we inwardly cheered.
Once the fighting began, I had to prove that I would not be a burden. "Hey, hurry up," one soldier shouted on the first night, when I hesitated momentarily before vaulting over a wall. "You're holding up my men." I vowed to do better.
Sitting in the back of the Bradleys for hours, sweating, I soon learnt much about these men. "I went to London once," a medic told me. "I met a girl on the internet. It didn't work out because she hadn't told me about her two children, and the picture she had used was of her sister. When I arrived, she said, 'I thought you were lying too'."
When we heard the fighting was over, we were in an abandoned house after spending the night sleeping on the floor. Spontaneously and joyfully, the soldiers began to smash up the place. It had been wrecked already but there were a few windows and doors still intact.
They jumped, trying unsuccessfully to pull down a cheap fan hanging from a high ceiling. Seeing it was on a hook, I grabbed a piece of wood. As they watched, I gave it a sharp prod and it came crashing to the floor. There was a hearty cheer from the platoon. I had become one of them.
But relations did sour towards the end, when a photograph of a dead soldier - whom I had been speaking to minutes before he was killed - appeared in a German newspaper. It was a haunting image of the body lying in a dusty kitchen, blood seeping from a bullet wound to the head. For me it summed up much of what had happened in Fallujah and was also a memorial to a brave American who died for his country.
In the pain of the moment, Task Force 2-2 saw it differently. "Grab your stuff, asshole, and come with me," was how a captain addressed Stefan Zaklin, of the European Picture Agency, when news of the picture reached the unit. Zaklin was placed under armed guard and told he had violated the rules of propriety. Nothing in the rules had been broken. The soldiers had seen Zaklin snapping away in the kitchen - but it seemed that this was where the military and the media parted company.
I, too, was castigated, for quoting a searingly authentic talk by a staff sergeant, in which he suggested to his men that their commanding officer had been killed because he had been careless. He did say it. But only so much reality could be tolerated.
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