Read Online Code Name: Johnny Walker: The Extraordinary Story of the Iraqi Who Risked Everything to Fight with the U.S. Navy SEALs by Jim DeFelice, Johnny Walker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim DeFelice, Johnny Walker
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have to do to get through the day?
Sometimes we thought about the next day, and the day after that, but that was the extent of our future. Those thoughts were always in the barest terms: How will we survive?
We stayed in our houses mostly, gathering what news we could from the state-run television channels, deciphering the truth from the bullshit. The same day I saw what the Tomahawk had done to the phone building, the Americans launched an attack against the airport on the southwestern side of town. This was a much larger attack, and the explosions seemed louder by a factor of ten.
I saw the attack from a friend’s house near the airport. While we were far enough away to be safe, the waves of bombs or missiles that struck the base were clearly visible. I saw an F/A-18 or similar aircraft fly over the area as the bombs struck.
When the raid died down, we went to the airport grounds to see what had happened. As we got close, I saw a single man, not a soldier but a civilian, handling a Russian-made machine gun on the roof of a one-story house. He was firing into the air, as if his lone gun might drive off the unseen planes.
“Why are you doing that?” I asked. “You’re not shooting at anything.”
The man looked at me blankly.
“You can’t reach the airplanes with that,” I told him. “And truly, if a pilot sees your gunfire, he’ll come back and hit you with a missile that will blow you into a million pieces. For what?”
He stopped shooting, though whether I had convinced him or he simply had run out of bullets, I have no idea.
The American attack had struck the anti-air defenses and some of the military facilities at the airport and camp. But it missed the Iraqi army. The units that had been headquartered in Mosul had already disappeared, the men either ordered away or simply deserting. No one in the city seemed to know where they had gone.
Shortly after the attack on the airport, members of the Peshmerga arrived in town from Kurdistan. The Peshmerga were Kurdish militia, paramilitary forces that in some cases were working with U.S. Special Forces and the CIA to fight against Saddam during the early stages of the war. Whether these men were one of those units or not, I have no idea. I wasn’t about to ask; it was obvious that the best way to deal with them was to keep our distance.
The Peshmerga and the Kurds in general had a long history with Saddam, none of it pleasant. First of all, to explain: The Kurds are a separate people who have lived in the areas of Turkey, Syria, Iran, and Iraq for hundreds of years. During that time, they’ve had varying degrees of autonomy over the region they call Kurdistan. In the 1880s, they attempted to rebel against the Ottoman Empire but were unsuccessful. Other nationalistic movements followed, but so far none have successfully established Kurdistan as an independent nation.
The three provinces in Iraq that are predominantly Kurdish are Erbil, Dahuk, and Sulaymaniyah. Years of Kurdish rebellions against Iraqi governments resulted in a pledge in March 1970 to establish autonomy for the Kurdish areas in northern Iraq, but those plans were never realized. Saddam’s repression provoked a Kurdish rebellion in the 1980s; the dictator responded ferociously, murdering countless Kurds, civilians as well as freedom fighters. He destroyed whole villages and sent Kurds to other parts of Iraq, hoping to dilute their hold on the north. It was during this time as well that he is said to have used chemical gases on the people.
Mosul is south and west of these areas, and ethnically separate. Still, it is very close—if you drew a straight line from the Kurdish city of Dahuk to Mosul, it would measure roughly thirty-seven miles. A significant number of Kurds lived in Mosul before the war, and there were lingering ethnic rivalries and prejudices, though for the most part everyone got along. I myself have had different relationships with Kurds in general and in particular. I have
Sometimes we thought about the next day, and the day after that, but that was the extent of our future. Those thoughts were always in the barest terms: How will we survive?
We stayed in our houses mostly, gathering what news we could from the state-run television channels, deciphering the truth from the bullshit. The same day I saw what the Tomahawk had done to the phone building, the Americans launched an attack against the airport on the southwestern side of town. This was a much larger attack, and the explosions seemed louder by a factor of ten.
I saw the attack from a friend’s house near the airport. While we were far enough away to be safe, the waves of bombs or missiles that struck the base were clearly visible. I saw an F/A-18 or similar aircraft fly over the area as the bombs struck.
When the raid died down, we went to the airport grounds to see what had happened. As we got close, I saw a single man, not a soldier but a civilian, handling a Russian-made machine gun on the roof of a one-story house. He was firing into the air, as if his lone gun might drive off the unseen planes.
“Why are you doing that?” I asked. “You’re not shooting at anything.”
The man looked at me blankly.
“You can’t reach the airplanes with that,” I told him. “And truly, if a pilot sees your gunfire, he’ll come back and hit you with a missile that will blow you into a million pieces. For what?”
He stopped shooting, though whether I had convinced him or he simply had run out of bullets, I have no idea.
The American attack had struck the anti-air defenses and some of the military facilities at the airport and camp. But it missed the Iraqi army. The units that had been headquartered in Mosul had already disappeared, the men either ordered away or simply deserting. No one in the city seemed to know where they had gone.
Shortly after the attack on the airport, members of the Peshmerga arrived in town from Kurdistan. The Peshmerga were Kurdish militia, paramilitary forces that in some cases were working with U.S. Special Forces and the CIA to fight against Saddam during the early stages of the war. Whether these men were one of those units or not, I have no idea. I wasn’t about to ask; it was obvious that the best way to deal with them was to keep our distance.
The Peshmerga and the Kurds in general had a long history with Saddam, none of it pleasant. First of all, to explain: The Kurds are a separate people who have lived in the areas of Turkey, Syria, Iran, and Iraq for hundreds of years. During that time, they’ve had varying degrees of autonomy over the region they call Kurdistan. In the 1880s, they attempted to rebel against the Ottoman Empire but were unsuccessful. Other nationalistic movements followed, but so far none have successfully established Kurdistan as an independent nation.
The three provinces in Iraq that are predominantly Kurdish are Erbil, Dahuk, and Sulaymaniyah. Years of Kurdish rebellions against Iraqi governments resulted in a pledge in March 1970 to establish autonomy for the Kurdish areas in northern Iraq, but those plans were never realized. Saddam’s repression provoked a Kurdish rebellion in the 1980s; the dictator responded ferociously, murdering countless Kurds, civilians as well as freedom fighters. He destroyed whole villages and sent Kurds to other parts of Iraq, hoping to dilute their hold on the north. It was during this time as well that he is said to have used chemical gases on the people.
Mosul is south and west of these areas, and ethnically separate. Still, it is very close—if you drew a straight line from the Kurdish city of Dahuk to Mosul, it would measure roughly thirty-seven miles. A significant number of Kurds lived in Mosul before the war, and there were lingering ethnic rivalries and prejudices, though for the most part everyone got along. I myself have had different relationships with Kurds in general and in particular. I have
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