Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Here are the guys the Europeans champion:
Where hearts belong to Saddam Dexter Filkins/NYT The New York Times
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
FALLUJA, Iraq In the epicenter of anti-American hatred, even a generous gesture is viewed with a suspicious eye.
The day after 16 American servicemen died when their helicopter was shot out of the sky here, a group of American soldiers tossed handfuls of candy from their Humvees to the Iraqi children who lined the road.
"Don't touch it, don't touch it!" the Iraqi children squealed. "It's poison from the Americans. It will kill you."
The Humvees rumbled past, and the candy stayed in the dirt.
Loathing for the American occupiers of Iraq looms everywhere in this hardscrabble city west of Baghdad. Hatred laces the conversations. It hangs from the walls. It burns in the minds of children. Like nowhere else in Iraq, Falluja bristles with a desire to confront the American soldiers, to kill them, and to celebrate when they fall.
For the American soldiers trying to pacify this stronghold of the deposed Iraqi president, Saddam Hussein, the road seems long and hard.
"These people hate the Americans," said Specialist Emily Donaghy, who lives behind the high walls of an American base outside of town. "It's going to take generation after generation before they realize what America has done for them."
On Monday, American soldiers picked over the scene of the most dramatic demonstration yet of the locals' passion; the shooting down, with an anti-aircraft missile, of an American helicopter that was loaded with soldiers on their way to holidays in the United States.
The downing of the helicopter, which crashed and burned in a field just outside of town, prompted celebrations from many of the locals here. While anti-American feeling does not extend to everyone in Falluja - American soldiers here have found a handful of allies to work with - it is difficult here to find anyone willing to express anything but deeply negative feelings for the Americans' presence.
Even a group of American-trained Iraqi police officers, whom American officials hope will help crack down on the insurgents, could not bring themselves to say anything positive.
"We want them out of here," said an Iraqi officer who gave only one name, Ahmed. He said he and his colleagues were regularly threatened by local Iraqis for working closely with the Americans, but he said his detractors had it all wrong. "I don't work with the Americans, I don't take orders from them," Ahmed said. "I am doing this for my country."
Falluja, a 60 city kilometers, or 35 miles, west of Baghdad, lies in the heart of what is known as the Sunni Triangle, an area stretching west and north of Baghdad that comprised the foundation of support for Saddam. It is in cities like Falluja where the overwhelming majority of attacks on American soldiers are carried out.
In other parts of the country, in the north and in the south, Iraqis often welcome the Americans as their liberators, and as their tutors in fostering democratic rule.
In places like Falluja, the locals often had a direct stake in Saddam's rule, getting preferential treatment in hiring and earning larger salaries.
One of those was Saad Hamid, who operates a sidewalk tea stand in central Falluja. Until the war, Hamid worked in an armaments factory in Baghdad earning the equivalent of almost $1,000 per month - an almost unheard of salary in this country. Then the Americans arrived, and Hamid lost his job. Today, he pours out tea for just pennies a glass.
Hamid remains a faithful follower of the deposed Iraqi leader. To demonstrate for an American visitor, he held up two pieces of Iraqi currency, the old Iraqi note, with a picture of Saddam, and the new one issued since the Americans took over, which contains no such figure.
"The old currency is better," Hamid said, pointing to the face of the former president, "because Saddam is on it."
A day after the downing of the helicopter, a company of American soldiers stood guard over the site as a huge crane lifted the wreckage from the ground and loaded it into trucks.
"We are gathering up all the pieces," Captain Scott Kirkpatrick said.
Just down the road from the crash site, a crowd of Iraqi young men and boys gathered to watch. Some of them carried small pieces of wreckage they picked up since the crash.
One of the men in the crowd was Khalid Abdullah Jassem. Like the others in the crowd, Jassem exulted over the crash of the American plane, yet at least one of the reasons he gave for his feelings seemed odd.
Whenever the Chinook helicopters flew overhead, Jassem said, the American soldier stationed at the back of the helicopter always hung his feet out of the back door - a sign of disrespect in the Muslim world.
Informed that American soldiers manning the gun at the rear of Chinook helicopters usually sat like that regardless of the country, Jassem was undeterred. "I didn't liked Saddam, but he was better than the Americans," he said.
For all the intensity of the guerrilla war being fought here, the Americans show no signs of being deterred. Over the weekend, the office of Falluja's American-backed mayor was attacked eight times, the mayor was beaten up, and the American liaison office there was destroyed.
Captain Ryan Huston, who spent two sleepless nights defending the police station, seemed hardly bothered by the relentless attacks.
"They are trying to take over this town and turn into a stronghold," Huston said. "And we are not going to let them do it."
Where hearts belong to Saddam Dexter Filkins/NYT The New York Times
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
FALLUJA, Iraq In the epicenter of anti-American hatred, even a generous gesture is viewed with a suspicious eye.
The day after 16 American servicemen died when their helicopter was shot out of the sky here, a group of American soldiers tossed handfuls of candy from their Humvees to the Iraqi children who lined the road.
"Don't touch it, don't touch it!" the Iraqi children squealed. "It's poison from the Americans. It will kill you."
The Humvees rumbled past, and the candy stayed in the dirt.
Loathing for the American occupiers of Iraq looms everywhere in this hardscrabble city west of Baghdad. Hatred laces the conversations. It hangs from the walls. It burns in the minds of children. Like nowhere else in Iraq, Falluja bristles with a desire to confront the American soldiers, to kill them, and to celebrate when they fall.
For the American soldiers trying to pacify this stronghold of the deposed Iraqi president, Saddam Hussein, the road seems long and hard.
"These people hate the Americans," said Specialist Emily Donaghy, who lives behind the high walls of an American base outside of town. "It's going to take generation after generation before they realize what America has done for them."
On Monday, American soldiers picked over the scene of the most dramatic demonstration yet of the locals' passion; the shooting down, with an anti-aircraft missile, of an American helicopter that was loaded with soldiers on their way to holidays in the United States.
The downing of the helicopter, which crashed and burned in a field just outside of town, prompted celebrations from many of the locals here. While anti-American feeling does not extend to everyone in Falluja - American soldiers here have found a handful of allies to work with - it is difficult here to find anyone willing to express anything but deeply negative feelings for the Americans' presence.
Even a group of American-trained Iraqi police officers, whom American officials hope will help crack down on the insurgents, could not bring themselves to say anything positive.
"We want them out of here," said an Iraqi officer who gave only one name, Ahmed. He said he and his colleagues were regularly threatened by local Iraqis for working closely with the Americans, but he said his detractors had it all wrong. "I don't work with the Americans, I don't take orders from them," Ahmed said. "I am doing this for my country."
Falluja, a 60 city kilometers, or 35 miles, west of Baghdad, lies in the heart of what is known as the Sunni Triangle, an area stretching west and north of Baghdad that comprised the foundation of support for Saddam. It is in cities like Falluja where the overwhelming majority of attacks on American soldiers are carried out.
In other parts of the country, in the north and in the south, Iraqis often welcome the Americans as their liberators, and as their tutors in fostering democratic rule.
In places like Falluja, the locals often had a direct stake in Saddam's rule, getting preferential treatment in hiring and earning larger salaries.
One of those was Saad Hamid, who operates a sidewalk tea stand in central Falluja. Until the war, Hamid worked in an armaments factory in Baghdad earning the equivalent of almost $1,000 per month - an almost unheard of salary in this country. Then the Americans arrived, and Hamid lost his job. Today, he pours out tea for just pennies a glass.
Hamid remains a faithful follower of the deposed Iraqi leader. To demonstrate for an American visitor, he held up two pieces of Iraqi currency, the old Iraqi note, with a picture of Saddam, and the new one issued since the Americans took over, which contains no such figure.
"The old currency is better," Hamid said, pointing to the face of the former president, "because Saddam is on it."
A day after the downing of the helicopter, a company of American soldiers stood guard over the site as a huge crane lifted the wreckage from the ground and loaded it into trucks.
"We are gathering up all the pieces," Captain Scott Kirkpatrick said.
Just down the road from the crash site, a crowd of Iraqi young men and boys gathered to watch. Some of them carried small pieces of wreckage they picked up since the crash.
One of the men in the crowd was Khalid Abdullah Jassem. Like the others in the crowd, Jassem exulted over the crash of the American plane, yet at least one of the reasons he gave for his feelings seemed odd.
Whenever the Chinook helicopters flew overhead, Jassem said, the American soldier stationed at the back of the helicopter always hung his feet out of the back door - a sign of disrespect in the Muslim world.
Informed that American soldiers manning the gun at the rear of Chinook helicopters usually sat like that regardless of the country, Jassem was undeterred. "I didn't liked Saddam, but he was better than the Americans," he said.
For all the intensity of the guerrilla war being fought here, the Americans show no signs of being deterred. Over the weekend, the office of Falluja's American-backed mayor was attacked eight times, the mayor was beaten up, and the American liaison office there was destroyed.
Captain Ryan Huston, who spent two sleepless nights defending the police station, seemed hardly bothered by the relentless attacks.
"They are trying to take over this town and turn into a stronghold," Huston said. "And we are not going to let them do it."
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