liberalized some aspects of life. Internet cafes opened that drew hundreds of Iraqis desperate for outside news and eager to conduct business deals by e-mail. E-mail was still restricted to one government-controlled server. But just months ago people were allowed to access e-mail form their homes.
President Kamil was trying to buy the contentment of the people, and so far it was working. Salah knew from his own observation that things were much better for the middle-class people in Baghdad than they were four years ago. The roads were much improved; the telephone system, in total disarray after the Gulf War bombings, was now back in operation and worked well enough so anyone could dial direct anywhere in the world.
Even a year ago the Saddam International Airport had been dark. Today the brightly lit terminal was buzzing with flights and passengers from Jordan, Syria, and Russia. The roads in town were jammed with cars and trucks, among them Mercedes-Benz and Peugeot models. Many of these were imported by the Iraqi Trade Ministry and sold to residents at cut-rate prices.
Salah had been to one middle-class neighborhood recently where a jazz trio serenaded diners in an Italian restaurant with Beatles and Frank Sinatra tunes. Shoppers bought computers from Dubai and grabbed bootleg videodiscs for their new DVD players.
Still, with all the improvements, Iraq remained a dictator-run country with harsh laws and customs.
Salah rode his bicycle to work at the War Ministry. It was only four miles, but traffic was heavy. At his office he carried his bike up two flights and parked it inside so it wouldn’t bestolen. Even locked bicycles left on the street were disassembled, and every part not locked down was taken. The parts were put together with parts from other bikes.
Captain Rahmani sat at his desk and worked over a plan for integrating the senior cadets at the military academy into the army at once in case of an attack. He had most of the details worked out and had devised a plan to mobilize them into a self-contained infantry company. There were a few over four hundred seniors at the academy. They would be organized into four platoons, with a regular army company commander, four academy lieutenants, and six sergeants in each platoon.
He printed out the plan and took it to his superior, Major Nabil.
“It’s a little rough, sir, but the basic plan is there. All we’d need to do would be grab an infantry captain from the army to be the company commander and draw the cadre from the top students from the academy.”
Nabil briefed the plan and nodded. “You have it set up well, Captain. Finish it and we’ll submit it with the rest of our emergency contingency plans in case of an invasion.” He moved his chair closer to Salah and his voice dropped to a near whisper.
“Did you hear about the four babies we have in the nursery? Looks like they are operational. Half the general staff is sweating bullets trying to figure out how best to utilize them. Do you threaten with them? Drop one in the desert as a demonstration and then say, ‘Okay, Syria, we’re moving in with occupation troops tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred. Any opposition and Damascus and two and a half million people get vaporized.” Major Nabil chuckled. “What a weapon that is! So damned destructive. No defense. Defy us and you die. Quick, simple.”
“But then would the West threaten us with a nuclear drop if we invaded another country using nuclear blackmail?” the captain asked.
“Probably.” He shook his head. “It’s all political now. Not just military thinking. It has to be a political cause and a political stance that is backed up with the military. We couldbe in a hot spot here for years, and that should mean promotions.”
“Yes, Colonel, I’d like your oak leaves.” They both laughed. “I hope the top brass doesn’t keep those bombs here in Baghdad. Just one little mistake by somebody and boom, we’re all atomic dust.”
“Oh, no,
President Kamil was trying to buy the contentment of the people, and so far it was working. Salah knew from his own observation that things were much better for the middle-class people in Baghdad than they were four years ago. The roads were much improved; the telephone system, in total disarray after the Gulf War bombings, was now back in operation and worked well enough so anyone could dial direct anywhere in the world.
Even a year ago the Saddam International Airport had been dark. Today the brightly lit terminal was buzzing with flights and passengers from Jordan, Syria, and Russia. The roads in town were jammed with cars and trucks, among them Mercedes-Benz and Peugeot models. Many of these were imported by the Iraqi Trade Ministry and sold to residents at cut-rate prices.
Salah had been to one middle-class neighborhood recently where a jazz trio serenaded diners in an Italian restaurant with Beatles and Frank Sinatra tunes. Shoppers bought computers from Dubai and grabbed bootleg videodiscs for their new DVD players.
Still, with all the improvements, Iraq remained a dictator-run country with harsh laws and customs.
Salah rode his bicycle to work at the War Ministry. It was only four miles, but traffic was heavy. At his office he carried his bike up two flights and parked it inside so it wouldn’t bestolen. Even locked bicycles left on the street were disassembled, and every part not locked down was taken. The parts were put together with parts from other bikes.
Captain Rahmani sat at his desk and worked over a plan for integrating the senior cadets at the military academy into the army at once in case of an attack. He had most of the details worked out and had devised a plan to mobilize them into a self-contained infantry company. There were a few over four hundred seniors at the academy. They would be organized into four platoons, with a regular army company commander, four academy lieutenants, and six sergeants in each platoon.
He printed out the plan and took it to his superior, Major Nabil.
“It’s a little rough, sir, but the basic plan is there. All we’d need to do would be grab an infantry captain from the army to be the company commander and draw the cadre from the top students from the academy.”
Nabil briefed the plan and nodded. “You have it set up well, Captain. Finish it and we’ll submit it with the rest of our emergency contingency plans in case of an invasion.” He moved his chair closer to Salah and his voice dropped to a near whisper.
“Did you hear about the four babies we have in the nursery? Looks like they are operational. Half the general staff is sweating bullets trying to figure out how best to utilize them. Do you threaten with them? Drop one in the desert as a demonstration and then say, ‘Okay, Syria, we’re moving in with occupation troops tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred. Any opposition and Damascus and two and a half million people get vaporized.” Major Nabil chuckled. “What a weapon that is! So damned destructive. No defense. Defy us and you die. Quick, simple.”
“But then would the West threaten us with a nuclear drop if we invaded another country using nuclear blackmail?” the captain asked.
“Probably.” He shook his head. “It’s all political now. Not just military thinking. It has to be a political cause and a political stance that is backed up with the military. We couldbe in a hot spot here for years, and that should mean promotions.”
“Yes, Colonel, I’d like your oak leaves.” They both laughed. “I hope the top brass doesn’t keep those bombs here in Baghdad. Just one little mistake by somebody and boom, we’re all atomic dust.”
“Oh, no,
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