Posted on 03/22/2003 5:53:32 PM PST by knak
Olga Craig watches Iraqis surrender after a fierce battle to secure Umm Qasr
They came staggering and stumbling across the desert - a bedraggled band of shoeless soldiers from Saddam Hussein's 51st Mechanical Infantry Division, waving any piece of white clothing they could find.
The night before, they had fought a fierce battle with United States marines for the deep-water port of Umm Qasr in southern Iraq.
Now, ravenous, begging for water and terrified, they were ready to surrender - to anyone they thought could feed and clothe them.
Only a mile away in the desert, a few miles outside town, 400 of their comrades and officers who had been captured in battle were already receiving medical treatment at a makeshift PoW camp set up by Colonel Gil Baldwin's men from the Queen's Dragoon Guards.
"We never wanted to fight - only the diehards did," said one Iraqi, as they grabbed at water bottles and clasped their palms as if in prayer, begging for food. Battle had raged the previous day as the marines struggled to hold and secure the town. Even now, Apache helicopters circled overhead, firing missiles into the hills above, where bands of Iraqi soldiers were holed up.
As the missiles struck, sending up plumes of black smoke and filling the air with acrid fumes, the surrendering Iraqis did not flinch. All they wanted now was food and respite from the barrage.
"We hate Saddam, but we are scared," said one. They begged not to be photographed: "We will be seen giving in."
One man pulled up his shirt sleeve and held up his right hand. Two fingers had been hacked off and his upper arm was criss-crossed with scars.
"This is the price of defiance - of trying to run away," he said, his eyes beseeching. He held up a torn gas mask that had no air canister. "We have one. We draw straws for it. We know if the British and American soldiers leave as they did before, and Saddam survives, he will gas the town." To make sure we understood, he drew his finger swiftly across his throat.
Leaving them behind, we drove towards the PoW camp. A sudden burst of automatic fire erupted. Down a narrow track, six American marines were firing on a low brick bunker.
As we took cover, they ran inside. Moments later they forced several Iraqis out at gunpoint. A search of the bunker turned up 22 boxes of anti-personnel mines and seven of anti-tank mines. Hidden nearby were a pile of Kalashnikovs tucked under boxes of dates.
The marines ordered the Iraqis to clasp their hands behind their heads and drop to their knees. Sullenly, the men obeyed, slumping to the ground. Only one raised his face: eyes narrowed, he spat at the marine above him. Silently, the American wiped his flak jacket and pushed the Iraqi's head down with his gun. The battle for Umm Qasr had been surprisingly fierce. "The resistance was much stronger than we expected," admitted Col Baldwin. "Last time round they had no stomach for a fight. Most of them didn't understand what they were doing in Kuwait. This is very different.
"Who knows? Maybe it is because it is their homeland. But mostly, we think, they are fighting from fear." Many of the prisoners had been told to turn themselves into human bombs if they were about to be taken - warned that they would face certain death when the British and Americans left.
On Friday night the Iraqis had taken up positions to fight from an old oil store that now houses them as PoWs. It has become their prison. In a crimson container, 37 officers squatted in rows, clutching bottles of mineral water. These men, unlike the soldiers, wore olive-green uniforms. Some had mismatching boots - some none at all. Only one would speak, and that was to say: "We will say nothing until the Red Cross arrives."
Their faces, covered in dust and grime, were etched with exhaustion. "They have all been fed and given water, and each has been logged," said Col Baldwin. "Tents are being erected to hold them. Apart from these 500, we have 2,000 more on the way and we will be able to accommodate 12,000. We have laid carpet in the tents and tonight they will sleep in blankets.
"Tomorrow, we'll be getting them camp beds and the Red Cross will arrive with 'safe and well' cards on which we will record their name, their father's name, their mother's maiden name and their tribe. It will be sent to their relatives. This is the first time we've done this. It means they won't become part of the 'disappeared'. Their fate is known."
Iraqi citizens of Umm Qasr waved and shouted, "We love you, Mr Bush," at anyone who was American or British. The poverty and decay in which they lived was heartbreaking. Goats meandered down the streets, pushing into courtyards and through broken doors.
"Come and see inside," said one man, Gia, 51. In his arms he held Ali, 15 months, a beautiful olive-skinned child with round, brown eyes. "I have 15 children," he said proudly. "Come and see. We have nothing under Saddam. I cannot even work. Will he go now? Have they got him yet?"
Inside, his wife and three more of his children offered water. In the two-room house there was only one chair, two tables and a small stove with broken saucepans.
"That is all we have," said Gia, embarrassed. His wife lowered her eyes but did not speak. "No one here eats, not unless the government men in the big palace said." His wife wrung her hands and tried to stop him talking. "Leave me," he told her. "Saddam is over - fear is over."
A mile away, at the now-abandoned United Nations building, starving Iraqis were looting anything they could find. Children struggled to drag away refrigerators and heaters; women loaded clothing and food pulled from cupboards, and piled them on their heads.
"We won't stop them," said Lt Col Steve Holmes, whose marines had fought for Umm Qasr the night before.
As we toured the blasted streets of caved-in houses, ragged children were gathering beneath a recently painted picture of a standing Saddam - proud and garlanded with flowers. "It is the only thing that is maintained, that is painted afresh, by his government henchmen," said one man, pausing to spit.
Farther along the road, by the entrance of the port, soldiers from the 15th Military Expeditionary Unit had already made their mark. Beneath another portrait of Saddam - in pompous pose with his hands clasped - they had spray-painted: "Fox Raiders."
"Just to let him know the foxes are here, ma'am," one soldier explained.
As we left Umm Qasr, locals took us to the headquarters of the Ba'ath Party. Sculptures lined manicured gardens, and interior floors and walls were decorated in marble. "This is what they have," said one man bitterly, "not what we get." As he spoke, others dragged off flushing lavatories and pine tables and chairs. They took down woven curtains and pulled out cookers. "Now," said the man, "we'll live like Saddam's men. We'll have what they had."
Why were these people starving and cold, while the U.N. cupboards were loaded with food and clothing? WHY WAS THE U.N. EVEN THERE????
I look forward to seeing a similar scene unfold in New York.
He's lucky there was a reporter there or the Marine probably would have kicked his teeth in.
Aaaaah. Yes. Me too.
Can any one dare say that this war is not one of liberation?
This old man has fifteen kids? Guess there's nothing else to do.
Finally, something useful comes from the U.N.
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