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October, 2004
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Attacks Disillusion Marines
By Mike Dorning
The Chicago Tribune
Sunday 19 September
2004
RAMADI, Iraq Marine Cpl. Travis Friedrichsen, a
sandy-haired 21-year-old from Denison, Iowa, used to take Tootsie Rolls and lollipops out of
care packages from home and give them to Iraqi children. Not anymore.
"My whole opinion of the people here has changed. There aren't any
good people," said Friedrichsen, who says his first instinct now is to
scan even youngsters' hands for weapons.
The subtle hostility extends to Iraqi adults, evidence some U.S. troops have second thoughts about their role here.
"We're out here giving our lives for these people," said Sgt.
Jesse Jordan, 25, of Grove
Hill, Ala. "You'd think they'd show some gratitude.
Instead, they don't seem to care."
When new troops rotated into Iraq
early in the spring, the military portrayed the second stage of the occupation
as a peacekeeping operation focused at least as much on reconstruction as on
mopping up rebel resistance.
Even in strongholds of the Sunni insurgency such as Ramadi, a restive
provincial capital west of Baghdad, the
Marine Corps sent in its units with a mission to win over the people as well as
smite the enemy. Commanders worked to instill sympathy for the local population
through sensitivity training and exhortations from higher officers.
Marines were ordered to show friendliness through "wave tactics,"
including waving at people on the street.
Few spend much time waving these days as the hard reality of frequent
hit-and-run attacks, roadside bombs and exploding mortars has left plenty of
Marines, particularly grunts on the ground, disillusioned and bitter.
Since the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, deployed in the area six
months ago, 34 of its members have died and more than a quarter of the
1,000-member unit has been wounded.
Along with the heavy toll, the Marines cite other sources of frustration.
High among them is the scarcity of tips from Iraqis on the locations of the
roadside bombs that kill and maim Marines, even though the explosives
frequently are placed in well-trafficked areas where bomb teams probably would
be observed.
Sgt. Curtis Neill remembers a rocket-propelled grenade attack on his
platoon as it passed some shops one hot August day. When the Marines responded,
the attacker fled, but they found that he had established a comfortable and
obvious position to lie in wait.
There, in an alleyway beside the shops, was a seat and ammunition for the
grenade launcher ‰Ű" along with a pitcher of water and a half-eaten bowl
of grapes, said Neill, who was so amazed that he took photos of the setup.
"You could tell the guy had been hanging out all day. It was out in
the open. Every single one of the guys in the shops could tell the guy was set
up to attack us," said Neill, 34, of Colrain, Mass. "That's the problem. That's
why I'm bitter toward the people."
Then there are the hostile glares that adults in the community give to
passing U.S. military patrols, and treachery
from high-profile allies, such as the provincial police chief who was arrested
last month amid strong suspicions that he was working with the insurgency.
"We're not taking any chances: Shoot first and ask questions
later," said Lance Cpl. David Goward, 26, a machine gunner from Cloquet,
Minn. "We're a lot more dangerous now. I'm not going home in a body bag,
and neither is the person next to me."
Some Marines say the sense that their presence is unappreciated calls into
question the entire mission in Iraq, which
they consider a liberation that should be welcomed. But other Marines said
their support for the intervention is undiminished, as direct contact with the
enemy strengthens their conviction that the United States faces threats that require decisive action.
Commanders acknowledge a shift in attitude toward Iraqis among troops but
insist it makes little difference in accomplishing their mission.
The Marines are a disciplined fighting force and under orders to treat
Iraqis "with dignity," said Maj. Mike Wylie, the battalion executive
officer.
The acts of friendship that Marines undertook when they arrived in Ramadi
now in some cases heighten their resentment toward the city's residents.
After a series of ambushes one April day that killed a dozen Marines, Cpl.
Jason Rodgers saw a familiar face among a group of slain attackers. The dead
Iraqi, who was lying inches from a grenade, was a shopkeeper Rodgers had called
on several times during foot patrols, he said.
"I felt like I'd been betrayed, personally," said Rodgers, 22, of
Susanville, Calif. "I'd stood there, talking to him, shaking his hand,
giving his kid candy. And he'd been studying our moves the whole time."