.................................................................
.................................................................
Fallujah and the Reality of War
The assault on Fallujah has started. It is being sold as
liberation of the people of Fallujah; it is being sold as a
necessary step to implementing “democracy” in Iraq. These are
lies.
I was in Fallujah during the siege in April, and I want to paint
for you a word picture of what such an assault means.
Fallujah is dry and hot; like Southern California, it has been
made an agricultural area only by virtue of extensive irrigation.
It has been known for years as a particularly devout city; people
call it the City of a Thousand Mosques. In the mid-90’s, when
Saddam wanted his name to be added to the call to prayer, the
imams of Fallujah refused.
U.S. forces bombed the power plant at the beginning of the
assault; for the next several weeks, Fallujah was a blacked-out
town, with light provided by generators only in critical places
like mosques and clinics. The town was placed under siege; the
ban on bringing in food, medicine, and other basic items was
broken only when Iraqis en masse challenged the roadblocks. The
atmosphere was one of pervasive fear, from bombing and the threat
of more bombing. Noncombatants and families with sick people, the
elderly, and children were leaving in droves. After initial
instances in which people were prevented from leaving, U.S.
forces beegan allowing everyone to leave – except for what they
called “military age males,” men usually between 15 and 60.
Keeping noncombatants from leaving a place under bombardment is a
violation of the laws of war. Of course, if you assume that every
military age male is an enemy, there can be no better sign that
you are in the wrong country, and that, in fact, your war is on
the people, not on their oppressors,, not a war of liberation.
The main hospital in Fallujah is across the Euphrates from the
bulk of the town. Right at the beginning, the Americans shut down
the main bridge, cutting off the hospital from the town. Doctors
who wanted to treat patients had to leave the hospital, with only
the equipment they could carry, and set up in makeshift clinics
all over the city; the one I stayed at had been a neighborhood
clinic with one room that had four beds, and no operating
theater; doctors refrigerated blood in a soft-drink vending
machine. Another clinic, I’m told, had been an auto repair shop.
This hospital closing (not the only such that I documented in
Iraq) also violates the Geneva Convention.
In Fallujah, you were rarely free of the sound of artillery
booming in the background, punctuated by the smaller,
higher-pitched note of the mujaheddin’s hand-held mortars. After
even a few minutes of it, you have to stop paying attention to it
– and yet, of course, you never quite stop. Even today, when I
hear the roar of thunder, I’m often transported instantly to
April 10 and the dusty streets of Fallujah.
In addition to the artillery and the warplanes dropping 500,
1000, and 2000-pound bombs, and the murderous AC-130 Spectre
gunships that can demolish a whole city block in less than a
minute, the Marines had snipers criss-crossing the whole town.
For weeks, Fallujah was a series of sometimes mutually
inaccessible pockets, divided by the no-man’s-lands of sniper
fire paths. Snipers fired indiscriminately, usually at whatever
moved. Of 20 people I saw come into the clinic I observed in a
few hours, only five were “military-age males.” I saw old women,
old men, a child of 10 shot through the head; terminal, the
doctors told me, although in Baghdad they might have been able to
save him.
One thing that snipers were very discriminating about – every
single ambulance I saw had bullet holes in it. Two I inspected
bore clear evidence of specific, deliberate sniping. Friends of
mine who went out to gather in wounded people were shot at. When
we first reported this fact, we came in for near-universal
execration. Many just refused to believe it. Some asked me how I
knew that it wasn’t the mujaheddin. Interesting question. Had,
say, Brownsville, Texas, been encircled by the Vietnamese and
bombarded (which, of course, Mr. Bush courageously protected us
from during the Vietnam war era) and Brownsville ambulances been
shot up, the question of whether the residents were shooting at
their own ambulances, I somehow guess, would not have come up.
Later, our reports were confirmed by the Iraqi Ministry of Health
and even by the U.S. military.
The best estimates are that roughly 900-1000 people were killed
directly, blown up, burnt, or shot. Of them, my guess, based on
news reports and personal observation, is that 2/3 to ¾ were
noncombatants.
But the damage goes far beyond that. You can read whenever you
like about the bombing of so-called Zarqawi safe houses in
residential areas in Fallujah, but the reports don’t tell you
what that means. You read about precision strikes, and it’s true
that America’s GPS-guided bombs are very accurate – when they’re
not malfunctioning, the 80 or 85% of the time that they work,
their targeting radius is 10 meters, i.e., they hit within 10
meters of the target. Even the smallest of them, however, the
500-pound bomb, has a blast radius of 400 meters; every single
bomb shakes the whole neighborhood, breaking windows and smashing
crockery. A town under bombardment is a town in constant fear.
You read the reports about X killed and Y wounded. And you should
remember those numbers; those numbers are important. But equally
important is to remember that those numbers lie – in a war zone,
everyone is wounded.
The first assault on Fallujah was a military failure. This time,
the resistance is stronger, better-armed, and better-organized;
to "win," the U.S. military will have to pull out all the stops.
Even within horror and terror, there are degrees, and we – and
the people of Fallujah – ain’t seen nothin’ yet. George W. Bush
has just claimed a new mandate – the world has been delivered
into his hands.
There will be international condemnation, as there was the first
time; but our government won’t listen to it; aside from the
resistance, all the people of Fallujah will be able to depend on
to try to mitigate the horror will be us, the antiwar movement.
We have a responsibility, that we didn’t meet in April and we
didn’t meet in August when Najaf was similarly attacked; will we
meet it this time?
.................................................................
.................................................................
Rahul Mahajan is publisher of
the weblog
Empire Notes
http://www.empirenotes.org
with regularly updated
commentary on U.S. foreign
policy, the occupation of
Iraq, and the state of the
American Empire. He has been
to occupied Iraq twice, and
was in Fallujah during the
siege in April.
His most recent book is
Full Spectrum Dominance:
U.S. Power in Iraq and Beyond