Iraq Wins the Asian Cup

Today I watched Iraq defeat Saudi Arabia to take their first Asian Cup victory, and achieve thus far the greatest Sport milestone in the turbulent history of Iraq. It was a thrilling match, and it was easy to see the emotional edge in the Iraqis. After a nail-biting finish, in which the Saudis missed a tying header by inches in the last five seconds, I stepped outside and warned everyone to take cover. "What for?" they asked. While I don't condone it, there is just something undeniably thrilling about the way Iraqis celebrate: weapons waving, with reams of AK-47 fire streamed into the skies! Our local IPs likely expended all of their precious training rounds we issued them this past week, but I think it was for a good cause.

I was so happy with the win. There is something unifying and galvanizing about soccer that we Americans will simply never get. Having seen last summer in the World Cup how Germany's collective national fervor swelled with each unlikely upset their plucky team pulled off, ending with the consolation prize, I was really pulling for Iraq. The Asian Cup was just something the Iraqis needed more than any other country right now--especially their first in the history of the tournament. It was sad and humorous to witness the complete apathy and ignorance of the disinterested Americans: no one really had any idea of what was going on and the utter significance of the event to this country we're so wrapped up in. There was a big announcement on the base loudspeakers 10 minutes after gunfire erupted all over Ramadi informing everyone in a purposefully calming voice it was "celebratory fire, I repeat, celebratory fire." While walking to the DFAC for dinner tonight, I did feel in passing that I was doing something a bit dangerous, a suspicion confirmed later on with the news that a Marine on camp was injured in the shoulder by a falling bullet.

http://www.afcasiancup.com/en/tournament/mtindex.asp?aid=50768&cid=1377&mt=12049&sec=105&ssec=246

http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/1FABE009-E442-48E8-983F-FD9017BEC162.htm

(There is a wonderful anecdote about a very similar circumstance in the book The Imperial Life in the Emerald City, a fascinating account of the CPA in the Green Zone. I realized the connection after I wrote this, so maybe I was influenced by that. I don't know.)

Monument

“It was evident to him that the world composed and recomposed itself constantly in an endless process of dissatisfaction.” E.L. Doctorow, Ragtime


This past week, the powers that be on Camp Ramadi destroyed my favorite landmark. One day it was there, and the next large earth-movers were swarming over it bulldozing it apart and trucking it off. I was upset not so much that it was going away, but that I had not taken the time to properly document it. It was situated alongside a prominent footpath from the dining facility to our unit headquarters compound, and so was a source of daily joy to me for many months of the deployment. Its existence was at once improbable yet perfectly explainable, fantastic yet almost vulgar; it carried a depth of irony that was fresh and enjoyable: maintaining a lofty artistic stature in a low-brow location, and its general trashy untidiness held a rebellious, cocksure stance amid the dull efficiencies and proprieties of a military garrison. Nothing that cool, interesting, or ugly could long exist in proximity to a military compound.

The monument was a large dune of sand, rocks, trash, and dust--nearly six feet, with an enormous ball of barbed wire, concrete chunks, Hesco bastion remnants, torn sand bags, and all other manner of construction waste, junk, and detritus perched almost delicately atop it, towering fully over fourteen feet in height. Mangled metal rebar frizzled out of it like the extravagant blown-glass tentacles of Dale Chihuly; snagged plastic bags rattled in the wind like tawdry Tibetan prayer flags; a few tumbleweeds clung like briars: it was a masterpiece of aleatoric sculpture. A bastard hybrid of highbrow earthworks art and the rapid expediency of a constantly changing combat environment. I noticed a number of platoons taking their group photos in front of it before leaving, so I think it did elicit some popular appeal; it certainly was unavoidable, definitely not obscure. As time dragged on, my thoughts on the sculpture moved from a novelty interest to believe that it could symbolize the operation of Camp Ramadi as whole, and the impersonal nature of institutional change and form. It was a testament to the vagaries of military command policy just as an icicle sculpture by Andy Goldsworthy or sand drawing by Jim Denevan bears witness to the transient whims of Nature.


It goes something like this: a new unit rolls in, hard-charging: they conduct the battle hand-over and by golly they've got to change things. That previous unit got complacent in their last months, and we're going to improve their lazy position--we're not like them! Changing mission requirements, troop surges, reductions, and movements; expanding housing, remodeling facilities, destroying housing, changing units, and so on: the landmark became a repository of all the castaway jetsam of a myriad of plans and lack thereof, calculated "position improvements" and camp restructurings, and so on. At face value the chance sculpture was a pile of trash expediently, randomly formed into an interesting shape, but to me it was a monument to all the myriad rearrangings of Camp Ramadi and the fickle decisions that govern it. I suppose all of this is merely the normal progression of things, and perhaps specious to connect natural change to a perceived hubris in command, but the fact remains that someone finally deemed it necessary to allocate resources to rid the camp of the impertinent eyesore, when it didn't really seem to impede the "progress" or "development" of the camp. My new favorite landmark is not quite so compelling, but a bit more stark: it is the pristine concrete sidewalk constructed at great expense two months ago in front of the Post Exchange; two weeks ago it was barricaded by chain-link fencing in a rash of force protection upgrades.

Generals

The following link is to an article titled "A failure in generalship". The article is superb. Moreover, it articulates a general view held by myself and many of my peers in a serious, scholarly, well-thought way, with sound recommendations for improvement; whereas we typically resort first to satire, then frustration and resignation. Then back to satire. I'm sure this article is much more productive than our lunchtime caricatures.

http://www.armedforcesjournal.com/2007/05/2635198

I also believe strongly that the current overall commander in Iraq, General Petraeus, is an exception to the officers described in the article. Tragically, he may have taken charge too late, but I have hope for this war with him at the helm. Also tragically, they moved up his predecessor to Chief of Staff of the Army.