Reflections on Fallujah

April 03, 2004

From Amman, on Falluja

Amman, Jordan - By now I imagine everyone has been properly inundated with the images of the scorched bodies of the 'American Civilians' (as properly parroted by the corporate media) in Falluja. In case I missed it before departing, I had one last chance to catch it on the countless televisions in JFK airport, then on the front page of the NY Times on the plane.

I thought it was interesting, because what accompanied this story was a strange little phenomenon I've seen many times in Iraq. The first bit of news released on the attack referred to the men killed as 'contractors', and even showed an Iraqi man handling the dog tags of one of them, and another man was holding a Department of Defense badge from another of the U.S. fighters the Iraqis had killed. The same report mentioned that a collection of weapons was in one of the vehicles as well.

Of course that was the last of that footage I saw. From then on, it was 'Americans killed by Iraqis!', or 'Contractors Killed', over and over ad nauseum.

Well, it turns out these 'Americans killed by Iraqis' just happened to be four mercenaries working for a N.C. Security Firm called Blackwater Security Consulting.

This subcontractor, along with countless others, is working to provide 'security' in Iraq. Check out their website: because they even provide training for SWAT teams and former special operations personnel.

I've been in Falluja when the entire city has been under collective punishment, which occurs nearly everytime someone attacks a U.S. patrol there. People are enraged, and rightly so. So when one of those white, shiny SUV's with the big black antenna drives by with guys with crew cuts in them wearing body armor holding guns (yes, it is THAT obvious and easy to see), what do you think might happen to them?

The other reason I bring this up is because of this: Last night I'm going through customs at the airport in Amman, and I find myself standing in line behind five men with crewcuts and their 'handler', a little bit older fellow from Turkey (I saw his passport). The men were all in their late 20's, to late 30's I'd say, and from their discussion had all been in Iraq before.

They wouldn't tell me who they were working for, but when they were lugging huge plastic boxes with locks on them off the baggage belt, then went and hopped into their nice, white SUV, it was pretty much a no-brainer.

Blackwater Security Consulting won a $35.7 million contract to train over 10,000 soldiers from several states in the U.S. in the art of 'force protection,' according to Mother Jones magazine. They also hire mercenaries from South Africa and other countries as well, and the pay in Iraq is $1,000 per day. Wonder how that makes our soldiers feel, who make barely over that each month?

So the residents of Falluja are about to be 'pacified' because some of the resistance fighters there killed what were most likely mercenaries who regularly attack and detain residents of Falluja. The fog of war grows thicker in Iraq, as the privatization contracts continue to be signed.

April 11, 2004

Slaughtering Civilians in Falluja

The scene in Falluja was so horrendous, that if I hadn’t seen it myself it would have been difficult to comprehend. It still is-I’m having to force myself to write about it while the details are still fresh in my mind.

We knew there was very little media coverage in Falluja, and the entire city had been sealed and suffering from collective punishment via no water nor electricity for several days now. With only two journalists there that I’d read reports from, I felt pulled to go and witness the atrocities which were sure to be occurring.

With the help of some friends, we joined a small group of internationals to ride a large bus there carrying a good load of humanitarian supplies, and with the hopes of bringing some of the wounded out prior to the next American onslaught, which was due to kick off at any time now.

Even leaving Baghdad now is dangerous. The military continues to have Falluja sealed off, and this includes shutting down the main highway between here and Jordan. The highway, even while still leaving Baghdad, is desolate and littered with destroyed fuel tanker trucks-their smoldering carcuses littering the highway. We rolled past a large M-1 Tank that was still burning under an overpass-which had just been hit by the resistance.

At the first U.S. checkpoint the soldiers said they’d been there for 30 hours straight. After being searched, we continued along bumpy dirt roads, winding our way through parts of Abu Ghraib, steadily but slowly making our way towards besieged Falluja. While passing one of the small homes in Abu Ghraib a small child yelled at the bus, “We will be mujahedeen until we die!”

We slowly worked our way back onto the highway, which was littered with smoking fuel tankers, destroyed military tanks and Amored Personnel Carriers, and a lorry that had been hit that was currently being looted by a nearby village, people running to and from the highway carrying away boxes. It was a scene of pure devastation, and barely any other cars on the road.

We were absolutely the only bus on the highway, which of course made us more of a target. There was a report of an Iraqi man who’d gone to the huge prison of Abu Ghraib to visit his brother, and said there were clashes both in and outside the prison.

Once we turned off the highway, which the U.S. was perilously holding onto, there was no U.S. military visible at all as we were in mujahedeen territory. Our bus wound its way through farm roads, and each time we passed someone they would yell, “God bless you for going to Falluja!” Everyone we passed was giving us the peace sign, waving, and giving the thumbs up.

As we neared Falluja, there were groups of children on the sides of the road handing out water and bread to people coming into Falluja. They began literally throwing stacks of flat bread into the bus. The fellowship and community spirit was unbelievable. Everyone yelling for us, cheering us on, groups speckled along the road.

As we neared Falluja a huge mushroom caused by a large U.S. bomb rose from the city. So much for the cease fire.

The closer we got to the city the more mujahedeen checkpoints we passed-at one, men with kefir around their faces holding Kalashnikovs began shooting their guns in the air, showing their eagerness to fight.

The city itself was virtually empty, aside from groups of mujahedeen standing on every other street corner. It was a city at war. We rolled towards the one small clinic where we were to deliver our medical supplies from INTERSOS, an Italian NGO. The small clinic is managed by Mr. Maki Al-Nazzal, who was hired just 4 days ago to do so. He is not a doctor.

He hadn’t slept much, along with all of the doctors at the small clinic. It started with just three doctors, but since the American’s bombed one of the hospitals, and were currently sniping people as they attempted to enter/exit the main hospital, effectively there were only 2 small clinics treating all of Falluja.

As I was there, an endless stream of women and children who’d been sniped by the Americans were being raced into the dirty clinic, their cars speeding over the curb out front as their wailing family members carried them in.

One woman and small child had been shot through the neck-the woman was making breathy gurgling noises as the doctors frantically worked on her amongst her muffled moaning.

The small child, his eyes glazed and staring into space, continually vomited as the doctors raced to save his small life.

After 30 minutes, it appeared as though neither of them would survive.

One victim of American aggression after another was brought into the clinic, nearly all of them women and children.

This scene continued, off and on, into the night as the sniping continued. As evening approached the nearby mosque loudspeaker announced that the mujehadeen had completely destroyed a U.S. convoy. Gunfire filled the streets, along with jubilant yelling. As the mosque began blaring prayers, the determination and confidence of the area was palpable.

One small boy of 11, his face covered by a kefir and toting around a Kalashnikov that was nearly as big as he was, patrolled areas around the clinic-making sure they were secure. He was confident and very eager for battle.

After we delivered the aid, three of my friends agreed to ride out on the one functioning ambulance for the clinic to retrieve the wounded. Although the ambulance already had three bullet holes from a U.S. sniper through the front windshield on the drivers side, the fact that two of them are westerners was the only hope that soldiers would allow them to retrieve more wounded Iraqis. The previous driver was wounded when one of the snipers shots grazed his head.

Bombs were heard sporadically exploding around the city, along with sporadic gunfire.

It grew dark, so we ended up spending the night with one of the local men who had filmed the atrocities. He showed us footage of a dead baby who he claimed was torn from his mothers chest by marines. Other footage of slain Iraqis.

The entire time in Falluja there was the constant buzzing of military drones. As we walked through the empty streets towards the house we would sleep, a plane flew over us and dropped several flares. We ran for a nearby wall to hunker down, afraid it was dropping cluster bombs. There had been reports of this, as two of the last victims that arrived at the clinic were reported by the locals to have been hit by cluster bombs-they were horribly burned and their bodies were shredded.

It was a long night-between being sick from drinking unfiltered water and the nagging concern of the full invasion beginning, I didn’t sleep. Each time I would begin to slip into sleep, a jet would fly over and I wondered if the full scale bombing would commence. Meanwhile, the drones continued to buzz throughout Falluja.

The next morning we walked back to the clinic, and the mujahedeen in the area were extremely edgy, expecting the invasion anytime. They were taking up positions to fight. One of my friends who’d done another ambulance run to collect two bodies said that a marine she encountered had told them to leave, because the military was about to use air support to begin ‘clearing the city.’ One of the bodies they brought to the clinic was that of an old man who was shot by a sniper outside of his home, while his wife and children sat wailing inside.

The family couldn’t reach his body, for fear of being sniped by the Americans themselves. His stiff body was carried into the clinic with flies swarming above it.

The already insane situation continued to degrade, and by the time the wounded from the clinic were loaded onto our bus and we prepared to leave, everyone felt the invasion was looming near. American bombs continued to fall not far from us, and sporadic gunfire continued.

We drove out, past loads of mujahedeen at their posts along the streets. In a long line of vehicles loaded with families, we slowly crept out of the embattled city, passing several military vehicles on the outskirts of the city. When we took a wrong turn at one point and tried to go down a road controlled by a different group of mujeheen, we were promptly surrounded by men cocking their weapons and aiming them at us. The doctors and patients on board explained to them we were from Falluja and on a humanitarian aid mission, so they let us go.

The trip back to Baghdad was slow, but relatively uneventful. We passed several more smoking carcuses of vehicles destroyed by the freedom fighters-more fuel tankers, more military vehicles destroyed.

What I can report from Falluja is that there is no cease fire, and apparently never was. Iraqi women and children are being shot by American snipers. Over 600 Iraqis have been killed by American aggression, and the residents have turned two football fields into graveyards. Ambulances are being shot by the Americans. And now they are preparing to launch a full scale invasion of the city.

All of which is occurring under the guise of catching the people who killed the four Blackwater Security personnel and hung two of their bodies from a bridge.

April 19, 2004

Cluster Bombs in Falluja, Harrassment of Patients by Soldiers

The word on the street now about why the suicide car bombings have ceased, is that more and more Iraqis are taking this as proof that the CIA were behind them. Why? Because as one man states, “They are too busy fighting now, and the unrest they wanted to cause by the bombings is now upon them.” True or not, it certainly doesn’t bode well for how so many Iraqis are viewing their occupiers nowadays.

Last night I was awakened in the middle of the night by a very large explosion in central Baghdad, followed promptly by three other smaller explosions.

With so many of the press leaving Iraq, and the majority of those remaining staying close to their hotels, information about what is truly occurring on the ground here is becoming harder to come by.

For those of us here, it has, needless to say, become increasing difficult to travel around because of the deteriorating security situation.

Aside from the usual bombs and sporadic gunfire that typifies daily (and nightly) life in the capital of Iraq today, it continues to be relatively (relative to Baghdad) quiet here. The feeling I get is that most Iraqis here (aside from those directly fighting the military) are in wait and see mode, their eyes on Najaf and Falluja.

But this belies the true story, that despite the lack of overt fighting in central Baghdad, the violence and tension is boiling beneath the surface. On a recent visit to the Arabic Children’s Hospital, Dr. Waad Edan Louis, who is the Chief Visiting Doctor at the hospital, stated, “Before the invasion, we had 300 patients per night. Now, we have 100 because the security is so bad.”

Meanwhile, at the Noman Hospital in Al-Adhamiya, a doctor I spoke with there (who asked to remain nameless) stated, “We are treating an average of one gunshot wound per day, which is something we never saw before the occupation. This is due to the absence of law in Baghdad. The Iraqi Police have weak weapons and nobody respects their authority.”

He also stated that U.S. soldiers have come to the hospital asking for information about resistance fighters. He said, “My policy is not to give my patients to the Americnans, or to provide them any information. I deny information to the Americans for the sake of the patient. I don’t care what my patients have done outside the walls of the hospital. I do my job, then let the patient go.”

“Ten days ago this happened-this occurred after people began to come in from Falluja, even though most of them were children, women and elderly.”

When asked if the U.S. military were bombing civilians in Falluja, he stated, “Of course the Americans are bombing civilians, along with the revolutionaries. One year ago there was no revolution in Falluja. But they began searching homes and humiliating people, and this annoyed the people. The people became angry and demonstrated, then the Americans shot the demonstrators, and this started the revolution in Falluja. It is the same in Sadr City.”

He continues angrily, “Aggression against civilians has caused all of this. Nothing happened for the first two months of the occupation. People were happy to have Saddam gone. And now, we hope for the mercy of God if the Americans invade Najaf.”

Cluster bombs have reported to have been used commonly in Iraq both during the invasion, as well as the occupation.

Another doctor at Noman Hospital who asked to remain anonymous stated that he saw the U.S. military dropping cluster bombs on the Al-Dora area last December, “I’ve seen it all with my own eyes. The U.S. later removed the unexploded bombs by soldiers picking up the bomblets and putting them in their helmets.”

He also believes that cluster bombs are currently being used in Falluja, based on reports from field doctors presently working there, as well as statements taken from wounded civilians of Falluja.

He also claimed that many of the Falluja victims he had treated had been shot with ‘dumb dumb bullets’, which are hollow point bullets that are designed to inflict maximum internal damage. These are also referred to as ‘expanding bullets.’

Nearing the end of the discussion, the first doctor stated, “The U.S. induces aggression. If you don’t attack me, I will never attack you. The U.S. is stimulating the aggression of the Iraqi people!”

A doctor who asked to remain nameless at Al-Karam Hospital in Baghdad reported that one of the doctors from his hospital had just returned from the Al-Sadr Teaching Hospital in Najaf because she was unable to work there. She reported to her hospital that Spanish military forces are currently occupying the hospital in Najaf because it is close to their base. The roof of the hospital overlooks their base, so soldiers have taken it over for strategic purposes.

The doctor at Al-Karam Hospital stated, “The Americans don’t care what happens to Iraqis.”

At Al-Kerh Hospital in Baghdad there is a similar story. One of the managers at the hospital, speaking on condition of anonymity, stated, “U.S. soldiers are always coming here asking us for information about our wounded, but we don’t give them any information.”

At Yarmouk Hospital, a lead doctor discussed the situation in Falluja.

He said that during the first days of the U.S. siege of Falluja, many of the wounded were brought to his hospital. He continues, “The Americans came here to question my patients, even though we tried to refer the soldiers to a different hospital.”

He is outraged by the situation in Falluja, which he calls a massacre, “The Americans shot at some of our doctors who were traveling to Falluja to provide aid. One of our doctors was injured when a missile struck his vehicle. I have also been told by my doctors in Falluja that the Americans are shooting ambulances there, as well as at the main hospital there.”

He continued on, stating, “My doctors in Falluja have reported to me that the Americans are using cluster bombs. Patients we’ve treated from there are reporting the same.”

It is argued that the use of cluster bombs is a war crime, contravening the Hague law in that they leave unexploded ordnance where they are dropped, which then effectively turn into land mines, which aren’t covered by the land mine treaty.

He continued, “One of my doctors in Falluja asked the Americans there if he could remove a wounded patient from the city. The soldier wouldn’t let him move the victim, and said, ‘We have dead soldiers here too. This is a war zone.’ The doctor wasn’t allowed to remove the wounded man, and he died. So many doctors and ambulances have been turned back from checkpoints there.”

This same doctor reported that he saw American soldiers killing women and children, as well as shooting ambulances in Falluja.

The doctor I spoke with expressed his outrage, “What freedom did America bring us? Freedom of the machine gun? So I am free to take my gun and shoot you?”

May 07, 2004

“We will fight them again!”

An older Iraqi man is wailing near the grave of a loved one in the dusty heat of a converted football stadium. Between wails he raises his fist and yells, “Allahu Akbar!”

We wait outside until he slowly exits the new cemetery with his brothers holding him.

Rows and rows of fresh graves fill the football stadium in Falluja. Many of them are smaller than others. My translator Nermim reads the gravestones to me:

“This one is a little girl,” we take another step, “And this one is her sister. Next to them is their mother.”

We walk slowly under the scorching sun along dusty rows of humble headstones. She continues reading them aloud to me, “Old man wearing jacked with black dishdasha, near industrial center. He has a key in his hand.” Many of the bodies were buried before they could be identified. Tears are welling up in my eyes as she quietly reads, “Man wearing red track suit.” She points to another row, “Three women killed in car leaving city by American missile.”

One of the football stadiums in Falluja has become a Martyr Cemetery due to the hundreds of deaths caused by the fighting throughout April. U.S. marines eventually surrounded the main cemetery, so the residents of Falluja had to bury their dead here. Iraqi doctors estimate that over half of the dead Iraqis are women, children and elderly, and the graves I view seem to confirm this. There are nearly 500 graves here today, and counting…

As we walk back to the car the loudspeaker of a nearby mosque is blaring the words of an Imam, “We have two reasons to be happy this month. One is the birthday of our prophet. The second is our victory over the Americans!”

I weep at the cost.

Over at another mosque a little earlier, under the constant buzzing of unmanned military surveillance drones, the mood was more defiant. The rumor is going around that the marines will resume patrolling the streets of Falluja this coming Monday, along with Iraqi Police (IP) and the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps (ICDC). Yet this rumor is being widely circulated by both the IP and ICDC.

Abdul Muhammed tells me, “When the Americans start patrolling on Monday, even more people will fight them this time because so many people need revenge now.”

Another man angrily states, “They try to cover their failure by these patrols. We will fight them again!” He continues sternly, “We don’t want them in our city! Nobody in Falluja wants to see them in our streets! Everyone who lost family to them will revenge them!”

This discussion takes place standing in the rubble beneath a minaret that has been blasted by either a missile or tank-the gaping hole just below the top. After climbing up the spiral stairs as high as possible, two men join me to look out over the city that resembles more of a ghost town. There is so much more destruction than the last time I was here a few weeks ago.

One of the men, who speaks English, says, “I saw American snipers shoot a woman on her roof while she was hanging her clothes. This was during their cease fire.”

I hear more horrible stories of snipers killing civilians today than I can keep track of. After carefully making my way back down the rubble covered steps, we drive to the Julan area of Falluja, which was very heavily bombed during the fighting in April.

The tight streets and numerous alleys of Julan are mostly empty after we pass through two mujahedeen checkpoints. So many homes are bombed, others riddled with bullets, date palms are torn down, and the stench of rotting bodies hangs in the air.

There is a huge crater, at least 8 feet deep and three times that at its width, just in front of a small mosque. The hole is partially filled with water from a leaking pipe below. People sit inside the mosque listening to their Imam. As I take photos several men gather around.

One of them states, “I hope the Americans come back on Monday. They killed my cousin and burned my house. God gave us the victory, and He will give us another when they come back!”

Another man points to the mosque and says, “Marines entered this mosque before they bombed it and slit the throats of refugees. This is their democracy? This is their freedom?”

One of the other stories going around Falluja is that of marines using mosque minarets to shoot at people. Every group of people I speak with at each location is stating this. True or not, it is what people here believe. The damage is done. These beliefs, cemented by the recent photos coming out of Abu Ghraib, have melded distrust and hatred into a long sword which is now held against the occupiers.

Driving a little further into Julan we pass a scorched ambulance on the side of the road.

At yet another mosque I am show a copy of the Holy Koran which has two bullet holes through it. Another man, walking from a minaret that has been completely demolished, shows me casings from a tank shell.

Aziz Hussein, who was in Falluja for much of the fighting, tells me of the horrible bombings by U.S. war planes, but that all of Falluja was together in supporting the mujahedeen. He says, “When someone lost one of their family or their home, they didn’t blame the mujahedeen. Most of the people killed by bombings were civilians. Americans said the civilians were killed by mujahedeen, but this is just not true.”

He too tells the story of marines shooting people from minarets, “When we tried to go to our mosque, the snipers shot at us.”

June 02, 2004

Continuing Violence in Baghdad, Word Play in Fallujah

A rumbling explosion just let off near my hotel. This, not too long after getting back from Adhamiya where I was talking to witnesses at the scene of yet another car bomb; the third in as many days here in Baghdad.

At the scene in Adhamiya the scorched, crumpled shell of the car was pushed off to the side of the road. A brick wall nearby bore the pockmark scars from the shrapnel. Store windows 50 meters away were shattered. I passed a dried pool of blood on the sidewalk near the small bomb crater while walking slowly to a nearby shop where I met Abdel Halik Al-Samarri, a real estate broker who witnessed the attack.

“Two armored vehicles passed up and down the street four times, then two Land Cruisers of the Americans passed by the parked car,” said Abdel, still shaky hours after the bombing, “Just as they passed the car it exploded.”

Ismail Obeidy, a lawyer who works at the real estate office with Abdel, ran towards the burning car to assist a woman who had had pieces of shrapnel lodged in her legs. “I carried her across the street, and put her in a car which took her to the hospital.” He said just three minutes after the first blast as scores of people had congregated around the burning car to survey the damage, a second, much larger explosion erupted which killed several people and injured many more.

“If the Americans will stop invading our streets, no explosions will happen,” cried Ismail in frustration and anger. He went on to say that a small crowd gathered and began yelling anti-American slogans at US troops when they cordoned off the area. Car bombs are becoming a daily occurrence in Baghdad, and there is nothing the Iraqis can do about it.

Both men told me that Abu Hanifa mosque had immediately issued a plea for donations of blood, and was promptly besieged with donors.

Hopefully the dual explosions were a bomb malfunction, and not intentional. I keep dreading the horrific strategy used in Beirut, where a second car bomb would arrive to the scene of the first after the ambulances showed up.

Just prior to my visit to the scene of the car bomb, seven mortar blasts shook the US base in Adhamiya. Also this afternoon three mortars landed near a US base near Palestine Street, wounding at least one Iraqi.

Baghdad is a war zone, and the stress in the air is palpable. The randomness of the attacks is the worst part. Nobody is safe here.

Earlier this morning I ventured out to Fallujah. While driving west out of Baghdad with my trusty fixer Abut Talat I noticed an overpass which had graffiti sloppily written which read, “Come back to your home,” and, “You’re just monkeys,” and a telling line which read, “We will ****love you.” I had read it before when going to Fallujah during the siege in April…the scratched out word had said ‘kill,’ before.

According to members of the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps (ICDC) at their headquarters in Fallujah, U.S. Marines who are at the main checkpoint will be withdrawing this week. Several of the ICDC I spoke with were exceedingly pleased with the fact that there were only two token US patrols into their city per month. These, according the ICDC, resembled the symbolic first patrol after the siege of April had come to a close, when several armored vehicles with ICDC and police protection rumbled a little over a mile down the main street to the mayor’s office for a 30 minute pause behind the concrete barriers which surround the building, then exited in similar fashion.

Ali Abed, a 25 year-old member of the ICDC, says, “We are happy now because it is so much better than before; Fallujah is secure now and you can stay out late because it is safe.”

He and several of other ICDC sit relaxed inside their headquarters, drinking soda and laughing from time to time. Ali turns to me and adds, “As long as the Americans stay out, it is calm here.”

Things have certainly changed in Fallujah. Journalists are now required to go to the Al-Hadrah Al-Mohamudia mosque in the city in order to obtain a press pass. Even with that, all of the ICDC who drove me and Abu Talat to the mosque in their GMC were worried for me. “My cousin works for Al-Arabiya television, and his camera was smashed just yesterday,” said an ICDC member, “And yesterday two German journalists were beaten because the people here are very angry with foreigners.”

Inside the mosque, with two armed ICDC on either side of me, Khassem Mohammed Abdel Satar, the Vice Chairman for the chamber of the city, told me the anger is because nearly every family in Fallujah had someone killed during April. “In some cases, entire families were killed,” he said somberly.

He issued me a press pass, but told me I would conduct my interviews with the ICDC in his office then I should go. All of them repeated that they were worried for my safety.

Mr. Satar referred to the US soldiers as “invasion troops” and told me that Fallujah is so much better off without them in the city. “We have Fallujah completely under control now with the Iraqi Police and the ICDC,” he said, “The security in Fallujah hasn’t been this good since the dawn of Baghdad.”

He stated that he was proud that Fallujah is the first city in Iraq where the US military has left because of the fighting, rather than through negotiations. “We hope all cities in Iraq are liberated as Fallujah is,” he said.

According to Mr. Satar, the new clamp down on the press in Fallujah was for our own security, and they were hard at work on a system which will allow better access for the media inside of the city. It was obvious to me that this hadn’t quite been sorted out. I certainly didn’t see any other reporters traveling inside GMC’s with 5 armed ICDC accompanying them.

“We have clear information that the Americans are sending spies in to cause problems between groups in Fallujah,” added Mr. Satar, “but we have this under good control.”

Dhasin Jassim Hamadi, a major in the ICDC, told me that inside the city they are fully independent and have no relations with the US military now. “During April the Americans bombed our headquarters and killed three men,” he said angrily, “But now we work under the supervision of the mayor and conduct joint patrols with the police.”

“We demanded independence from the Americans,” he added with a large smile, “And we got it.”

Another ICDC member smugly told me that the last US patrol to the mayors office only stayed for 20 of the 30 allotted minutes.

All of them claimed they have more respect from the people of Fallujah now that the US military are gone from the city. “It is obviously better here without them, so of course the people respect us more,” said Amin, a 28 year-old member of the ICDC.

He went on to say that after June 30th, if the US military is still in Iraq, nothing will change as far as the ongoing fighting outside of Fallujah.

The subject of terrorism was breached, and Amin grew quickly frustrated. He felt the US was being hypocritical in calling Arabs who fight against them terrorists. “They are fighting to protect their city…why don’t the Americans call soldiers from Honduras here terrorists?” He continued, “They are fighting Iraqis…but they are not called terrorists? What is the difference?”

The difference continues to be in the choice of words. Even today the AP referred to the city as “the guerilla stronghold of Fallujah,” while the CPA continues to go to great lengths to show that the US military are working in conjunction with the ICDC and mayor of Fallujah to insure security.

But then, the military operations in Fallujah during April were said to be carried out with the goal of “pacifying” the city…a city today where the mayor and ICDC claim it is the calmest and most secure it has ever been.

I hear more horrendous stories-marines occupying peoples’ homes and looting them of money and gold, leaving feces

Reflections on Fallujah.

I Am Fallujah