X-treme Proofreading

Well, there's "X-treme cooking," "X-treme Makeovers," and now I just discovered an example of "X-treme Proofreading." I am reading FIASCO: the American Military Adventure in Iraq by Thomas Ricks. It's a devastating potrayal of the lack of planning, mostly by civilians in the Department of Defense for post-invasion Iraq. My blood pressure hasn't been normal for a week.
Anyway, in the book, Ricks writes about Rumsfeld's Under Secretary for Defense for Policy, Douglas J. Feith, who is/was the darling of the department--at least for Rumsfeld and Deputy Secretary Paul Wolfowitz--and who could not even manage his own office personnel let alone policy concerning troops and Iraq, and post-invasion Iraq.

Ricks writes, and I'm paraphrasing here, that Feith once kept a plane full of American soldiers on the runway for hours while he demanded that the comma-usage in their orders be corrected.

Heads up, kids! If you want to work for the DoD, make sure that you have learned comma usage to a T.

Ricks also notes that the civilians, such as Feith, Wolfowitz and Rumsfeld, refused to issue orders in the normal written protocol. They issued them as PowerPoint slides, which was a mess since the slide files were huge and could not easily be copied for those in the field. It drove the military crazy.

Heads up again! If you want to work for the DoD, make sure you know how to use PowerPoint as well!

To quote Paul Newman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, "Who ARE these guys?"

The following post is from "Ahmed," Treasure of Baghdad's friend, who is still in Iraq. This is a personal account of what happens on a day-to-day basis in Baghdad. Read and learn.

It has been almost two weeks since I talked to Ahmed, one of my best friends, who lives in my neighborhood. I received an email from him. To be honest, I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad after reading this email. On one hand I am happy because he is alive and on the other I am sad because of the content of this email that broke my heart.

His email was all about what he went through for the last week. He is left alone with no friends around him. All of us left and now he is just so miserable living in the most dangerous spot on earth. His words broke my heart especially the part where he said he had to sit in the garden by himself where we all used to gather.

The situation in my neighborhood is deteriorating, he said. The Mahdi army and the armed men are the only controlling power there. Iraqi Police and army are just names they hear about and have never seen there to protect the neighborhood and its people.

Here is the translation of his email.

Hi ****,
How is it going? I hope everything is going well in your
school and work. I miss you a lot and I don’t know what to do without you,
Safaa, Ahmed, Sameem and the others. I miss you so much but at the same time I feel you did the best thing by leaving Iraq.

I am sorry that I
feel so creepy in this email but I really wanted to share what I saw and what I
see everyday with you as we used to do before. I can’t keep it inside me. I am
afraid I could kill myself one day if I keep them inside.

Day one:

I was going back home one day when clashes between US forces and armed men erupted in front of us. The bus didn’t go further, so I decided to walk through one of the shortcuts to our house. The clashes were near the gas station [which is a little bit far from the shortcut]. Suddenly an American soldier showed up pointing his gun at me. He asked me and the six other people to stop and so we did. He looked so nervous. He was shouting in English and all I could understand was the word “fuck” coming out his mouth. He was followed by three other soldiers who were looking around. It seems they were expecting bullets from snipers who might have been hiding in the houses.

The nervous soldier asked us to turn our backs. The man next to me told me not to say a word because [the soldiers] may do something stupid and kill us. They were so nervous that they could kill anyone in front of them.

One of the three soldiers searched my pockets as he asked me to raise my hands up. He pulled my wallet from my back pocket, saw what was inside and then threw it on the floor. It was windy and I was afraid that some of the identification might be lost. I wanted to lift them up but couldn’t do it as it might cause my life.

Then the same soldier came and took me near his humvee hummer. He asked me several questions and looked at my ID. He and the other soldiers interrogated all of us for two and a half hours. After that they let us go

.

Day two:

I was in the garden alone. As usual, shootings and explosion rocked the neighborhood next to ours. But there was something weird. The sound of the shootings was coming closer. I didn’t really care that much because it is not something new. So I stayed there but the shooting started coming closer. Suddenly, armed groups took positions in the neighborhood. Then the a convoy of about ten pickups loaded with the Mahdi Army broke into the neighborhood and started shooting randomly. I couldn’t feel but the bullets at my house’s front door. So I ran inside the house away from the clashes. My neighbor said bullets broke his window but he was unhurt.

Day three:

Almost the same thing happened today but it was by armed men wearing army uniform in white pickups. They were shooting randomly at the houses in my neighborhood. We didn’t know whether these were army or interior ministry forces or men disguising in their uniform. In all cases, the front fence and door were riddled with bullets again. This time I was inside the house. I ran to warn my brothers and parents and we all gathered in the house corridor away form the windows. We found out later that two old men were killed as they were chatting in one of their gardens.

Day four:

Fourteen young men were kidnapped by the [interior ministry] commandos from the neighborhood. They young men were in a KIA minibus and were going to different areas. Their bodies were found dead, tortured and thrown under the highway bridge.

Day five:

I was helpless. I needed to smoke hookah as we used to when you and the guys were here. I set it up and started smoking in the garden where we used to hang out remembering you and Safaa and how we had fun together in spite of our shitty life. I sat alone. I waited for someone I know to pass by that I could talk to but no one did. No one dares to leave his house anymore. I was so desperate that I fell into tears. But I am really happy that you are not here. At least you could be able to get the hell out of hell. I am sure one day we would see each other again.

Day Six:

I was in the market buying some stuff for my mother when the Mahdi army broke into the neighborhood again. The armed men in our neighborhood took up arms and clashed with the Mahdi army. I was really scared at that day. People started running, I left everything and ran, and the shop owners closed their shops and ran. It was nasty and scary. Finally I could reach my house but the clashes continued and reached our street. Eight bullets broke the windows of our kitchen this time.

The clashes remained for about an hour until the Americans came. The Mahdi army and the armed men disappeared in minutes as if they were ghosts. However, we couldn’t sleep that night. I expected someone would break into my house and kidnap me and my other brothers.

Day Seven:

By that time, the Americans had left. The neighborhood was left loose again. The Mahdi army came back again. In the middle of the day in the shopping area, they kidnapped two young men and started beating them in front of the people who could not do anything because the Mahdi army fighters were carrying weapons and anyone came near them could have been shot immediately. As they were beating the young men, a woman pleaded them from a distance to leave these boys alone. The fighters yelled at the women and said, “Shut up you bitch. We’ll clean this neighborhood from you. The young men were strong enough to resist. They ran away from the Mahdi army. The fighters started shooting but the men ran fast and entered a nearby mosque. Then the Mahdi army shot some bullets around the mosque and drove out of the neighborhood.

Saddam’s trial verdict day:

I was at home at that day because curfew was imposed. The moment Saddam was sentenced to death, mortars started falling randomly on our neighborhood, Suleikh, and center Adhamiya. Explosions rocked the neighborhood. I said that’s it. There must be a mortar that is going to kill us this time. It is unbelievable how we survive every time such things happen.

Finally, our neighborhood and center Adhamiya is not the same neighborhood you used to see before you left. It’s worse. It’s a neighborhood of ghosts. Sometimes I walk by myself, or with one or two people. It is really scary to walk by yourself in the streets. They are empty and horrifying.

End of e-mail.

This is just an account of one week of one person in one area in Baghdad. So what about the other days and other places?

Finally, my neighbor, who was kidnapped few weeks ago, was found shot dead. His family found his body at the Baghdad Morgue. He was tortured to death. His entire family sold their house and left the country for no intention to come back even in the far future.

Treasure of Baghdad

I have been a bit remiss in my posting: ahhhh, the joys of grading. Well, Rumsfeld is gone. Just like that: Poof! Many military analysts thought he was still fighting the Vietnam war, since he had been in the Defense Department during this war and was livid over the way we packed it in and left. Well, he got his "Vietnam," only worse and with more dire consequences, and he was dismissed a week after the president stated that Rumsfeld would serve out the next two years. Ah yes, the fickle hand of fate in American politics. "Doing a hecka'va job Rummy!"


So do you see anything changing since he has left? Do you think things will get better or worse? This question is open to anyone--students, non-students, Iraqis, Amerians, Svensk, etc.

Iraq:The hidden story

I got this from Treasure of Baghdad's site: this is from the BBC. It is very graphic and is 48 minutes long. I would suggest that any of my students who are writing papers on Iraq (paper 3) watch this: in fact, although I won't make it mandatory, I really think that not watching this would be a shame.

THE WAR DEAD AND COLLEGE MATH IV

In the month of October, 103 American soliders died, and an unknown about were injured (the ratio has been about 1:10, so we can estimate around 1000 have been injured).
This means, if these soliders were my students, that

•All my students are casualties with the exception of one lucky soul, and the chance that he or she would be injured is very high.

•In a mere thirty days, all four of my classes would be gone.

•This number of students would occupy 26 dormrooms.

In the month of October approximately 2170 Iraqis died (and this is a low estimate). If these Iraqis were students,

•Only 1679 would have been my students during my entire 7.5 year teaching career at this university.

•The other 491 would fill all my classes over the next 2.5 years. In other words, it would take me a decade to teach all of these students.

•The 2170 students would constitute at least 1/2 the freshman class

•This number of students would occupy 543 dormrooms.

The soldiers and Iraqis had hopes, dreams and families. They looked forward to Eid and Thanksgiving and Christmas. They were loved and they loved, and they were all dead in 31 short days.