Free Code Name: Johnny Walker: The Extraordinary Story of the Iraqi Who Risked Everything to Fight with the U.S. Navy SEALs by Jim DeFelice, Johnny Walker Page A
Authors: Jim DeFelice, Johnny Walker
choice of targets; its tactics often included hiding among civilians or even using them as shields. The conventional fighting was quick; gaining actual control of the urban areas was more difficult and time consuming.
Basra was not declared under control by the British until April 6, due largely to the allies’ attempts to limit civilian casualties and damage. It was the first major city declared completely under allied control.
By March 27, a week after the start of the war, U.S. forces had reached the area of Samawah, the city midway between Basra and Baghdad. In the days that followed, the Americans prepared for a drive on Baghdad itself. The assault on the capital began in the outskirts on April 2; the next day U.S. forces took the airport. A week later, on April 9, Baghdad was declared under U.S. control.
In Mosul, we waited for the inevitable arrival of the American army. A few people were optimistic that they would bring change for the better. My wife, Soheila, was one.
“Maybe we will have a democratic government,” said Soheila. “Maybe when it is all over, we will be better off.”
I kept my darker opinions about the future to myself.
“We have to change,” said Soheila. “Life has to change—we will go through this and things will be better.”
She had a few tangible things on her side of the argument—oil, the creativity of the Iraqi people. The country, after all, has the potential to do much that is very good. But even at that time, hoping for a better future could not erase the tension we all felt, nor the sense that we might die in the crossfire between the United States and the last defenders of the regime.
AND THEN SUDDENLY, the atmosphere changed. U.S. soldiers arrived in Mosul, and it was like a holiday. People were excited—and happy.
Kids swarmed around the procession of army vehicles, waving. Soldiers threw them candy and a few gave them toys. There was suddenly a feeling of celebration and liberation. People were overjoyed that Saddam was no longer in charge. The surge of relief made us dizzy.
I DON’T KNOW what we all expected to follow. I don’t know what I expected. Things were better in many ways. I no longer feared being bombed or getting caught in the crossfire between the Americans and Saddam’s troops. But conditions in the city did not miraculously improve. Work was still hard to come by. The store of food and other supplies Soheila and I had put away slowly but steadily dwindled.
Days passed. The electricity came back. But life was far from normal and in no way easy. Few businesses were functioning; there was no government to speak of. I divided my time between asking around for work and hanging out with friends trying to get an idea of what was going on and what would happen next.
One day some American soldiers pulled up in a Humvee on a street where I and a friend were standing. They got out and entered the nearby store. The men were wearing full combat gear, and they reminded me of the heroes I’d seen in American movies. I’d never been this close to Americans, and I wondered what they were like.
For whatever reason, I felt as if I had to talk to them. So I convinced my friend to come with me. We walked over to the men who were waiting outside the store. With not very good English, I asked them for some MREs—Meals Ready to Eat, the standard American military food ration, usually eaten when in the field.
One of the soldiers, who by that time had probably had enough MREs to last a lifetime, handed over a small box.
I took it back to our apartment as if it were a trophy.
“What is this?” asked my mother as I set it down on our kitchen table.
“American food.”
“Let me see.”
We opened the package. Even I was surprised by what we found—chicken, fruit, gum, napkins.
“You know what?” said my mother. “An army with food like this? They will never lose.”
The food was surprisingly good, and not just because we were skimping on our own.
Basra was not declared under control by the British until April 6, due largely to the allies’ attempts to limit civilian casualties and damage. It was the first major city declared completely under allied control.
By March 27, a week after the start of the war, U.S. forces had reached the area of Samawah, the city midway between Basra and Baghdad. In the days that followed, the Americans prepared for a drive on Baghdad itself. The assault on the capital began in the outskirts on April 2; the next day U.S. forces took the airport. A week later, on April 9, Baghdad was declared under U.S. control.
In Mosul, we waited for the inevitable arrival of the American army. A few people were optimistic that they would bring change for the better. My wife, Soheila, was one.
“Maybe we will have a democratic government,” said Soheila. “Maybe when it is all over, we will be better off.”
I kept my darker opinions about the future to myself.
“We have to change,” said Soheila. “Life has to change—we will go through this and things will be better.”
She had a few tangible things on her side of the argument—oil, the creativity of the Iraqi people. The country, after all, has the potential to do much that is very good. But even at that time, hoping for a better future could not erase the tension we all felt, nor the sense that we might die in the crossfire between the United States and the last defenders of the regime.
AND THEN SUDDENLY, the atmosphere changed. U.S. soldiers arrived in Mosul, and it was like a holiday. People were excited—and happy.
Kids swarmed around the procession of army vehicles, waving. Soldiers threw them candy and a few gave them toys. There was suddenly a feeling of celebration and liberation. People were overjoyed that Saddam was no longer in charge. The surge of relief made us dizzy.
I DON’T KNOW what we all expected to follow. I don’t know what I expected. Things were better in many ways. I no longer feared being bombed or getting caught in the crossfire between the Americans and Saddam’s troops. But conditions in the city did not miraculously improve. Work was still hard to come by. The store of food and other supplies Soheila and I had put away slowly but steadily dwindled.
Days passed. The electricity came back. But life was far from normal and in no way easy. Few businesses were functioning; there was no government to speak of. I divided my time between asking around for work and hanging out with friends trying to get an idea of what was going on and what would happen next.
One day some American soldiers pulled up in a Humvee on a street where I and a friend were standing. They got out and entered the nearby store. The men were wearing full combat gear, and they reminded me of the heroes I’d seen in American movies. I’d never been this close to Americans, and I wondered what they were like.
For whatever reason, I felt as if I had to talk to them. So I convinced my friend to come with me. We walked over to the men who were waiting outside the store. With not very good English, I asked them for some MREs—Meals Ready to Eat, the standard American military food ration, usually eaten when in the field.
One of the soldiers, who by that time had probably had enough MREs to last a lifetime, handed over a small box.
I took it back to our apartment as if it were a trophy.
“What is this?” asked my mother as I set it down on our kitchen table.
“American food.”
“Let me see.”
We opened the package. Even I was surprised by what we found—chicken, fruit, gum, napkins.
“You know what?” said my mother. “An army with food like this? They will never lose.”
The food was surprisingly good, and not just because we were skimping on our own.
Similar Books
Love Resisted (Entwined Hearts #2)
Maria Macdonald
Justice Healed
Olivia Jaymes
As the World Dies
Rhiannon Frater
A Lot to Tackle
Belle Payton
A Sprinkle of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 4)
Alaine Allister
Wolf Flow
K. W. Jeter
Triple Infinity
K. J. Jackson
Parasite Eve
Hideaki Sena
