Silent Posting

Lt. Matthew Gallagher sits on a burned out Iraqi armored vehicle, early 2008. The photo was presumably taken by a member of his platoon (the "Gravediggers"). (Courtesy of Dennis Gallagher)

Lt. G and his platoon -- code-named Gravediggers in Kaboom -- arrived in Iraq with the 25th Infantry Division's 2nd Squadron, 14th Cavalry Regiment in December. They spent their first few days at a large base just outside Baghdad. The Gravediggers didn't care much for the forward operating base, militaryspeak for areas with American fast-food restaurants and high-ranking officers who boil down the victories and tribulations of war each day into PowerPoint presentations.

Bravo Troop, Lt. G's unit, was soon pushed out to a small combat outpost in a village northwest of Baghdad. Kaboom readers came to know it as Anu al-Verona, the Mesopotamian sister village, if you will, of Romeo and Juliet's Verona, where Sunnis and Shiites played the roles of Capulets and Montagues.

Iraqis know it as Sabaa Al-Bour, an impoverished rural community that has seen its share of sectarian violence; extremists of Sunni and Shiite stripes; a burgeoning partnership between disenfranchised Sunnis, including some former extremists turned U.S. allies thanks to a monthly paycheck; and an unsteady, trigger-happy and often initiative-lacking Iraqi security force. In short, it was a perfect microcosm to explain how this war is unfolding now.

In the center of Anu al-Verona, lies the imposing American castle known as a combat outpost. The Gravediggers and their brothers-in-arms reside here; dirty, tired, and hardened by the daily rigors of war, we all already imagine returning home to our families, but wish to do so with our honor intact by making progress with the grander mission emplaced upon us. Across the street from this compound is proof that, at least three years later, the Coalition of the Willing is more than just an uncomfortably-titled punch line. Estonians, Iraqi Army (IA), and Iraqi Police (IP) operate out of this rustic structure, who in very different ways, all display a dark cynicism and fearlessness that sprouted from growing up in the third world -- the Stones from being trapped behind the Iron Curtain, and the Iraqis from being locked in Saddam Hussein's Ba'athist basement. Coordinating all of these assets for the betterment of the Republic of Iraq can be a challenging task, and sometimes degenerates into a walking monster of mental anguish for me and my men. Nobody said this would be easy, and breaking up drunken fistfights between the IP and IA is only amusing the first time.

-- Lt. G, Jan. 9

Along with tens of thousands of soldiers operating out of similar bases across Iraq, Lt. G's platoon was tasked with fighting extremists -- "Ali Babas" to Kaboom readers -- training Iraqi soldiers and policemen, brokering disputes between rival sheiks (or local leaders) and keeping the population safe.

Lt. G's war was full of surprises. A suspected roadside bomb turned out to be a discarded Bon Jovi tape. Protracted gunfights broke out between Iraqi soldiers and the Sunni guards on the U.S. payroll, Sons of Iraq, when each side thought it was warring with Ali Babas.

One night, when a sheik's men detained a suspicious individual seen scurrying from a Sunni part of town to a Shiite enclave, the Gravediggers were called to assist. The would-be Ali Baba turned out to be a Shiite girl, whose age Lt. G estimated to be 13. When the sheik demanded to know what a Shiite girl was doing in a Sunni area, well past curfew, she broke down in tears. She'd tell him the truth, she said.

"But not in front of Americans," a translator for the sheik explained. "They scare her."

Lt. G and his men left the room. "It's an interesting thing," he would later write, "coming to terms with your own boogeyman status."

The sheik returned seconds later, bellowing with laughter.

"She has Sunni boyfriend she visits at night!" he said, as recounted by Lt. G. "She say her father would beat her if he knew she had a boyfriend, especially a Sunni boyfriend!"