Hillah, Iraq.

We mostly went out for something to do. We decided to go out on a recon mission to positively identify a target we wanted to hit. Towards sunset, we briefed, then put on our war gear and mounted up. The house looked pretty easy to find on the map and the photos, but the informant got a bit disoriented, and the next thing I knew, we were out in the middle of nowhere, driving around on the edge of canals, which nobody is fond of these days. We finally managed to get our bearings, but we had to plod along narrow canal tops and bridges towards the target house. A column of half a dozen humvees is not inconspicuous. We finally managed to find the house, but there is no point paying the inhabitants a visit any time in the next week. They probably figured out something was up.Since we were out, we decided to visit the SWAT guys in the hospital. While at the hospital, the Staff Sergeant wanted some tea to stay awake, and offered to buy me one, too, but I declined as I think that water out of the Hillah River is somewhat suspect, despite boiling. Iraqi tea is very strong, and served in small glass tea cups not unlike shot glasses. The tea is heavily sugared. And, based on SSGT’s behavior the rest of the evening, highly caffeinated.After the hospital visit, we went over to visit the SWAT commander. He ended up calling in many of the Green Berets and the Marine Warrant Officer, but I hid until the meeting was underway.Iraqi politics are ‘complicated’ the way brain surgery is ‘hard’. Iraqis love politics, and are well stocked with radically different ideologies and philosophies, amply seasoned with Arab zeal. Political lines are drawn across parties, domiciles, and families, and really it is anyone’s guess where loyalties lie. This doesn’t bother Iraqis as they often change their stance anyway.The local SWAT commander is in a tough position. There are two factions of bad guys. One is primarily Iraqi, and the other is heavily influenced by foreign interests. Both hate the concept of democracy and American influence in Iraq. The SWAT commander, a genuine friend of democracy and America, has decided that he might work with one to defeat the other, in an “enemy of my enemy” scheme. Either way, it is dicey business for him.During the hour and a half that it took to relay all this information, I was happily outside, please by not in a meeting. We had the humvees parked for defense and quick pursuit if required.

I practiced one of my more useful skills, pulling security:

Things were pretty calm in front of the SWAT commander’s house,

so Staff Sergeant went to the store across the street to purchase a sack of hadji bread and half a dozen watermelons. He thinks he overpaid with $5. The watermelon was actually really, really good.We went back to Camp Charlie after that. It was good to be out again, after so many days of not working. SSGT didn’t get to sleep until 4AM.