Text and Photographs by Norbert Schiller
The first thing I noticed on my second trip to Iraq in July 2003, was that the border crossing with Jordan had been restored and that visas were now mandatory. As expected, the process was chaotic and the lines, if one could describe them as such, were massive. Once the paperwork was completed and the visa fees were settled, the next step was to wait outside in the scorching summer sun for the applicant’s name to be called. Every so often an official would open a door, read out a list of names citing their nationalities, and then go back inside. When I compared the number of people who were still waiting with those who had been called to pick up their passports, I realized that this was going to be a very long wait. At one point the officer stepped out and, without flinching, he called out the name of an applicant whom he identified as an Israeli citizen. At once, all heads turned towards this one guy, a thrill seeker of sorts, who looked like he was in his late teens or early 20s. Having lived for over two decades in the Middle East, I had never seen an Israeli enter an Arab country still officially at war with the Jewish state on an Israeli passport. That was the craziness of the “new Iraq.”
An IED detonates as a U.S. military patrol passes in the middle of a commercial district in Baghdad. After the bombing a gunfight erupts between the U.S. forces and the insurgents. That was the new reality five months into the conflict. Phot.(R) Ali Haider
Since my last visit in May, Bagdad had witnessed a real transformation. Most of the looters had left and now the capital was a bustling city with traffic and commerce on nearly every street. Makeshift markets had sprung up everywhere, even from the trunks of cars, offering every imaginable imported good from electronics to satellite dishes, which were banned under Saddam Hussein’s regime. There was even a brisk trade in new and used cars that were being trucked in from the Jordanian Red Sea port of Aqaba. Iraqi expatriates, some of whom had been out of the country for decades, were returning in droves seeking opportunities in the post-Saddam era. The roads were chocked with traffic making it impossible to drive through the center of Baghdad.
U.S. military patrols navigate traffic congestion in the center of Baghdad.
The first big story that gripped Iraq upon my return was the major U.S. military raid outside of the northern city of Mosul. This operation led to the death of Saddam Hussein’s sons Udey and Qusay who had been on the run since the invasion. In order to capitalize on this “victory,” the new forces on the ground moved the bodies of the former dictator’s sons to Baghdad and displayed them to the press. This same period witnessed an upsurge in insurgent activity against the occupying US forces and their Iraqi proxies and tension on the streets was at an all-time high. The most nerve-wracking experience was to be stuck in traffic behind a US military patrol as it was hard to predict how the soldier might react when they were spooked
The faces of Qusay (L) and Udey Hussein are splattered on the front page of an Iraqi newspaper after Saddam’s sons were killed by U.S. forces in the northern city of Mosul. The site where the brothers were buried near the family’s ancestral home of Tikrit. The Iraqi flag covers only the grave of Qusay’s 14 year old son Mustafa, who was also killed in the firefight. Phot. (R) Ali Abbas
At this stage the insurgents consisted of Saddam loyalists, made up mainly of former Baathists and disgruntled members of the Iraqi military who had become unemployed. Their attacks were becoming more brazen and far more successful. It seemed like every day several of the capital’s streets were partially blocked because of an attack or suspected Improvised Explosive Device (IED). One tactic the insurgents would use was to drive up alongside military patrols in a vehicle with smoked glass or curtains, open the window, and open fire or toss a grenade before speeding away. After a spate of successful attacks, the US military and Iraqi police began setting up roadblocks ad stopping any vehicle with tinted glass or any other type of screen that hid the driver or passengers.
U.S. military and Iraqi police stop vehicles with smoked glass or curtains hiding the identity of the occupants.
On a stiffening afternoon where temperatures were in the high 40s Celsius, I headed to the store to buy soft drinks and beer for the office. As I was about to exit with three cases of drinks, when two huge explosions rocked the building blowing out the glass doors and windows. I dropped to the floor flat on my chest believing that the shop was under attack because it sold alcohol defying threats by Islamic groups to target such establishment. It turned out that some insurgents in a passing car had tossed a couple of grenades at a US military patrol heading in the opposite direction. The attackers missed their target, and the grenades detonated at the doorway of the shop just as I was about to exit. Such was daily life in Baghdad at the time.
U.S. military personnel stop and quickly take cover after grenades are thrown at their Humvee from as passing car.
A few days later, a massive car bomb detonated outside the Jordanian embassy killing at least 17 people including Iraqi security guards and civilians. This was the first car bomb attack on an embassy since the beginning of the conflict in February. The entrance and a dozen cars parked outside were destroyed in the explosion. While I was photographing the mayhem, an American soldier, who was obviously spooked by something he saw, aimed his automatic rifle directly at me and told me to “get the fuck out of here or I’ll shoot!”
Burned out cars and carnage after a car bomb detonates outside the Jordanian embassy.
U.S. military assist in securing the area around the Jordanian embassy.
The US military along with the newly trained Iraqi police force were on a mission to reinstate law and order to the capital. In order to give this campaign a much-needed boost, the new powers on the ground invited the press to attend the graduation of Iraqi police cadets. In an awkward attempt to show solidarity with local law enforcement, American instructors joined Iraqi conscripts in the post commencement celebrations dancing together to Arabic music.
Following graduation, Iraqi police cadets teach their American instructors how to dance to Arabic music.
With the increase in police activity, more arrests were taking place. Enter the notorious Abu Ghraib prison which had recently been upgraded to the cost of two million dollars. Naturally, the press was invited to tour this facility that was supposed to be part of the grand plan to bring back safety to Iraq. As we approached the compound, we could see hundreds of detainees in a tent encampment surrounded by razor wire just outside the prison walls. The complex was so full that it ran out of space. On arrival Brigadier General Janis Karpinski, the commander in charge, took us on a tour of the refurbished section and then we were led to the gallows where Saddam Hussein would eventually be executed.
Brigadier General Janis Karpinski takes the press on a tour of the newly refurbished Abu Ghraib prison. Iraqi prisoners stand behind a razor wire enclosure just outside the prison compound due to overcrowding inside the facility.
A few months after our visit, Abu Ghraib made headlines for the horrific abuses committed by US troops against Iraqi detainees. In November 2003, pictures of prisoner abuse began circulating including scenes of torture and sexual abuse. One picture, which came to symbolize this gruesome violation of human rights by a country that claims to hold the moral high ground, showed a blindfolded prisoner standing on a box while connected to electrical wires. He had been threatened with death by electrocution if he committed the slightest movement. Other disturbing images showed US military guards taking selfies with dead inmates and photos of guards posing with a pile of blindfolded nude prisoners. There were also allegations that prisoners were forced to perform oral sex on one another while the guards stood by and watched. The disturbing images and horror stories coming out of Abu Ghraib added fuel to the fire that was already spreading in Iraq.
U.S. soldiers inspect the graffiti in the cell where those condemned to death are held before being led to the gallows. Iraqi journalists take a close look at the gallows.
On August 19, I was visiting a colleague who worked for one of the Arab TV news stations. While we were in the production studio, the building suddenly shook and there was a muffled “thud.” I jumped up while my host dismissed the explosion as “imbleh sgheereh” (just a small bomb) and continued chatting like nothing had happened. I knew better and immediately climbed to the roof where we could clearly see the smoke bellowing up into the sky at the other end of Baghdad. I quickly ran downstairs where my driver, who had been listening to the news, informed me that the United Nations headquarters had been bombed. We drove across the city to the Canal Hotel where there was complete pandemonium. US and Iraqi troops were trying to cordon off the area as medics were loading the casualties into any available vehicle to take them to the nearest hospital.
Approaching the Canal Hotel where the U.N headquarters were located after a car bomb explosion killed 22 people. Survivors, mostly UN personnel, comfort each other after the blast.
Security forces and rescue workers evacuate the dead and injured by any means possible.
As I was photographing the tragic scene, I saw one of my former bosses, Mona Nabaa, who was Agence France Presse (AFP) bureau chief in Tunisia when I was posted there. She emerged from the rubble with superficial wounds but was in a state of shock. When I asked if she needed help, she looked at me in a state of confusion and yelled that she had lived through years of war in Lebanon and “now I can’t take this anymore.” She turned away and walked off in a daze. She was one of the lucky survivors of this massive car bomb that killed 22 people including Sergio Vieira de Mello, who then served as High Commissioner for Human Rights and was a likely candidate for becoming UN Secretary General.
U.S. military moves in to secure a perimeter around the U.N. compound after the bombing (L). Soldiers evacuate the injured (C). Television news crews outside the bombed out U.N compound the day after the blast.
On my first assignment to Baghdad in April 2003, the American presence was welcome by the local residents who were yearning for security and stability. Unfortunately, this feeling of hopefulness did not last long as the U.S. forces ironically became a catalyst for instability. In addition to targeting U.S. troops and their Iraqi allies, the insurgents sabotaged the power grid, or what was left of it, the water supply, and oil pipelines, the economic lifeline that the Americans were counting on to revive the country. I captured some images showing the destruction of Iraq’s infrastructure by the insurgents. On one occasion, I was about to drive under an underpass when I noticed kids swimming in what appeared to be a lake in the middle of the road. It turned out that the insurgents had ruptured one of the main water pipes and the dip in the road where it became an underpass was completely flooded. There was even a firetruck stuck in the middle which the kids used as a platform to dive into the water.
Kids swimming in a flooded underpass. As part of a campaign to disrupt efforts by U.S.and Iraqi forces to maintain security, the insurgents began to attack the infrastructure such as the water supply and electrical grid.
Besides the daily bombings and shootouts, I had a few other close calls. Early one morning, I had to go to Nasiriyah, about 260 kilometers south of Baghdad, to cover the changing of the guards between U.S. and Dutch soldiers. To avoid traveling alone, I joined my AFP colleagues photographer Joseph Barrak and the correspondent, Sebastian, who were traveling in a Chevy Suburban (GMC), the vehicle of choice for long distance journeys due to its massive size. It was dark when we left, so the three of us decided to stretch out and get some sleep. Midway through the trip, I awoke and noticed heavy mist that was blanketing the highway making it almost impossible to see. As I glanced at the speedometer over the driver’s shoulder, I saw that we were cruising at 160km per hour. Before I could even process the potential danger of driving at this speed in these conditions, a small red car emerged from the mist heading in the wrong direction straight toward us. I don’t think I even had time to blink before we were in a full head on collision. I only recall the sound of metal bouncing off the road and the quiet that followed except for the hissing of engine cooling fluid escaping from the radiator.
Sebastian, who was asleep in the back, flew over to where I was seated in the second row. My legs got wedged in underneath the driver’s seat and Joseph, who was in the front seat and had omitted to buckle his seatbelt, smashed his head into windshield. Fortunately, because of his small size, Joseph did not go through the glass and only suffered surface wounds although he was bleeding profusely. Our driver, who had hit his head on the steering wheel, was unconscious. When we managed to get out of the SUV to check on the passengers in the red car, we found that the driver was not breathing and had no pulse. We tried to pull him out, but he was trapped as his car had been reduced to half its original size from the impact. The person in the passenger seat had been thrown across the center divider and was lying motionless, so we presumed he was dead as well.
Joseph recovers at the AFP office in Baghdad after being treated by Italian medics for wounds he suffered during the car accident.
We frantically got everything out of the Suburban, including our driver who was still unconscious, and managed to flag down the only car on the road which was luckily traveling to Baghdad. As we loaded our equipment, we noticed that the passenger of the red car had awoken and started walking like a zombie with his arms stretched out in front of him. At this point, farmers who were up early tending to their fields had gravitated to the accident area. Since we were foreigners, we felt that our safety was at stake, so we piled into the other car as quickly as we could and left. Just before entering Baghdad, we stopped at an Italian military base where Joseph had cuts on his face stitched up and the driver was transferred to a hospital for observation.
My last close encounter on this trip took place shortly before my assignment was over. As we drove back to the office one day, my driver and I immediately noticed that the area was completely deserted, and all the shops were shuttered. As soon as I got out of the car, someone yelled at me to take cover. I quickly ducked into the office building as my driver sped away and tucked into a stairwell until the sounds of gunfire faded. It turned out there had been a gunfight between police and insurgents on the street just outside our office.
Iraqi police trying to take the upper hand on the streets of Baghdad as the country slowly descends into chaos.
After my five-week tour in Iraq, I was more than ready to leave. Besides daily news coverage I had helped set up the new office and trained local photographers. In spite of the dangers and the daily horrors, I left with a feeling of accomplishment. My final assignment to Iraq would come a few months later, at the end of November 2003. On that tour, I was imbedded with the 1st Battalion, 22 Infantry in Saddam Hussein’s hometown of Tikrit.
Part III: Iraq 2003, Camp Britney “Words Not Deeds”
