Looking For Trouble

March 31

(Published April 1) WHEN they awoke, it was everywhere, the oily cinders coating every surface, falling like tiny flakes of black snow. It was in their sleeping bags, on their skin, in their hair, melting into diesel-dark streaks and seeping into their pores. Overnight, the wind had changed, and the black clouds from the burning oil pipelines and the fire pits lit by the Iraqis, which had darkened the skyline to the north and east for days, had drifted over the camp, leaving a trail of ash and soot in its wake. Now the cloud had passed, but the black dust continued to fall, creeping into the vehicles, into the food and into early -morning cups of tea and coffee brewed on the stoves dug into little pits outside every clump of tents. Everything it touched turned black. Hands washed moments earlier were now flecked with oily spots like some strange skin condition. Some older hands who remembered the first Gulf war recalled how the ash had coated their lungs and how the doctors had told them later of the damage it had done; but most took it with the usual resigned dismay, another inconvenience in a country full of little inconveniences. It seemed a small thing compared to the artillery that had opened up in the middle of the night, rocking the camp. The Black Watch's own guns pounded away at an enemy somewhere in the distance, shells soaring overhead, burning red in the night sky. Even as their tents were buffeted by the blast from the firing, they thanked whoever they prayed to that they were not the ones beneath that onslaught. In their tents or in their sleeping bags, perched on the back of trailers or in the back of trucks, they lay awake feeling the blast wave roll through them, the whistling scream of the shell soaring far overhead, a dull thud as it broke the sound barrier, then, a few seconds later, the rumble of the air disturbed by its passage. Another explosion, another shell, each one sending shock waves through the camp. It was claustrophobic in the darkness and the sound seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes they could hear the distant sound of the explosion, sometimes just see the flash away to the north or east. If it sounded like that from here, they wondered, how must it be on the receiving end? Last night, there was a rumour they would be home in six weeks, taken out of the line, away before the heat of the Iraqi summer brought more flies and drove them out of their baking tents in search of the non-existent shade. The rumour swept the camp, but no-one really believed it. Last week, the rumour was that Saddam was dead, or that his family had been buying jewels in some Middle Eastern country, and no-one really believed that either. From the captains who had been to the O-groups - the Orders groups - with all the other officers to hear what was really happening, came word that the Americans had decided to take a break for ten days to rethink and regroup. Ten days in and they were planning to rest up already, and the soldiers wondered what had happened to all their talk of shock and awe. It could be longer, the captains said, maybe two weeks. The man at the top was pleased with what they had done so far, the men were told. Brigadier Graham Binns, commander of 7th Armoured Brigade, had sent words of praise for the way they had set the pace. Baghdad first, they said, then Basra. Cut off the head and hope the body stops twitching soon. This scrap in the south could be home for weeks. Basra showed no signs of falling, they said, but the outlying towns seemed to be falling into line. In Az Zubayr - AZ, as they had come to call it - there were signs that some people were beginning to trust the strangers who had turned up uninvited and taken over their town. A family had arrived in one of the compounds, asking for help for their children, injured by mines laid to stop the soldiers' advance. They treated the children; the family were full of thanks. Not every day can be wham-bang action. Yesterday, it was someone else's turn to do the fighting, to get shot at and shelled. The snipers are still out there, playing cat-and-mouse with the men with the RPGs. The Warriors are preparing to go out on patrol in Az Zubayr, rekindling memories of their days in Northern Ireland and Bosnia.

(Original copy) WHEN they awoke it was everywhere, the oily cinders coating every surface, falling like tiny flakes of black snow. On their sleeping bags, on their skin, in their hair, breathing it in, impossible to brush off, melting into diesel-dark streaks, seeping into their pores. Overnight the wind had changed and the black clouds from the burning oil pipelines and the fire pits lit by the Iraqis which had darkened the skyline to the north and east for days had drifted over the camp, leaving a trail of ash and soot in its wake. Now the cloud had passed, but the black dust continued to fall, creeping into the vehicles, into the food, into the early morning cups of tea and coffee freshly brewed on the stoves dug into little pits outside every clump of tents. Everything it touched turned black, hands washed moments earlier now flecked with oily spots like some strange skin condition, the clothes already smeared with grime where the soldiers had tried to knock it off destined to bear the marks until they were finally discarded, a little souvenir of Iraq no-one had planned to take home. Some older hands who remembered the first Gulf War recalled how the ash had coated their lungs and how the doctors had told them later of the damage it had done, but most took it with the usual resigned dismay, another inconvenience to make life a little more uncomfortable in a country full of little inconveniences. And anyway, it was a small thing compared to the broken sleep, the artillery that had opened up in the middle of the night, rocking the camp, their own guns pounding away at an enemy somewhere in the distance, the shells soaring overhead, burning red in the night sky. Even as their tents were buffeted by the blast from the firing, they thanked whoever they prayed to that they were not the ones underneath that onslaught. The gun line, somewhere to the rear but close enough to sound as if it was sitting outside their tents, had been firing for days, their AS 90 self-propelled howitzers hurling the 90 pound, 155mm shells, 25km forward onto the Iraqi positions, the roar of the guns deafening, shaking everyone from their sleep. In their tents or in their sleeping bags perched on the back of trailers or in the back of trucks they lay awake, feeling the blast wave roll through them, the whistling scream of the shell soaring far overhead, a dull thud as it broke the sound barrier, then a few seconds later the rumble of the air disturbed by its passage. Another explosion, another shell, each one sending shock waves through the camp.  Those who had gone through the mortar attacks of the last few days jumpy, not sure whether each blast signalled the start of a new raid to send them scurrying for shelter. Shell after shell, disorientating, disconcerting. Claustrophobic in the darkness, the sound seeming to come from all directions at once. Sometimes they could hear the distant sound of the explosion, sometimes just see the flash away to the north or east. If it sounded like that from here, they wondered, how must it be to be on the receiving end, sitting trembling in the dark, waiting for the next shell to fall? Last night there was a rumour they would be home in six weeks, taken out of the line, away before the heat of the Iraqi summer brought more flies and drove them out of their baking tents and in search of the non-existent shade. The rumour swept the camp, but no-one really believed it. Last week the rumour was that Saddam was dead, or that his family had been buying jewels in some Middle Eastern country or other, and no-one really believed that either. From the captains who had been to the O-groups, the Orders Groups, with all the other officers to hear what was really happening, came word that the Americans had decided to take a break for 10 days to rethink and regroup. Ten days in, and they were planning to rest up already, and the soldiers wondered what had happened to all their talk of shock and awe? It could be longer, the captains said, maybe two weeks. An army which had arrived to fight had already moved into counter-insurgency mode, they said, and now came the peace-keeping, but everyone knew that they would have to fight again some time. A difficult time, they said, something new to get used to, going against the received wisdom that a fighting force should not be used to keep the peace. But the man at the top was pleased with what they had done so far, the men were told. Brigadier Graham Binns, commander of 7th Armoured Brigade, had sent words of praise for the way they had set the pace. Around the camp, word spread that the plans had changed, or that they had always been that way. Baghdad first, they said, then Basra. Cut off the head and hope the body stops twitching soon. This scrap of the south could be home for weeks. Basra showed no signs of falling, they said, but the outlying towns seemed to be falling into line. Why risk more lives, the soldiers reasoned, just to make life easier for a few discredited politicians whose predictions had already proved to be so wrong? And yet they still had to face the daily fear of attack, the men with the RPGs and maybe suicide bombers too. The Israelis had learnt to live with it on the West Bank, and maybe they would too. After all, in AZ, as they had come to call it, there were signs that some people were begining to trust the strangers who had turned up uninvited and taken over their town. A family had arrived in one of the compounds, asking for help for their children, injured by mines laid to stop the soldiers' advance. They treated the children, and the family were full of thanks. And there were still some reasons to be cheerful. British Forces Broadcasting Service was back on their radios, and with it word from home. The BBC World Service depressed them, describing a war they did not recognise, a war of American advances and political squabbling and people they thought of as their enemies complaining about everything they were doing, accusing them of waging war against innocents, never mentioning the constant fear of the rocket from the darkness or the sudden mortar rounds exploding around their tents. People in countries they had never visited hating them, telling them they should go home. They would go home if they could, they said, but what choice did they have? They didn't really want to be here, in a country that didn't seem to want them. They had been told they would be welcomed as liberators, but whenever they ventured out, people tried to kill them. But BFBS was a voice they recognised, feel-good radio that didn't hate them. It brought them messages from home, music they knew, news about the places they were fighting. All around the camp, radios were being tuned in to the FM band and those without radios were on the hunt. There were stocks of wind-up radios sitting in a truck somewhere in the camp, the word went out, but they were not being issued. They did not know why, but were not surprised. Around the camp, people washing clothes, shaving, trying to make themselves feel a little more human. Mail arrived and they pounced on it eagerly, desperate for news from home, ripping open the envelopes as they walked away to sit alone and read about how their sons and daughters were getting on at school or how the garden was growing or whether the new sofa had arrived. I'm going to be a father, one said, and tried hard to smile, not cry. Some newspapers arrived but they were old and spoke of the days before this all started. WAR, shouted the front page of one, but they knew that already. More papers arrived, with talk of early victories. Basra was about to fall, the MoD had said, but that was when they were still sitting on the border waiting for orders to cross, and it had not been true then, and was not true now. On the radio, 3 Commando had taken a town to the south of Basra but one soldier was dead in an ambush. They were storming into the suburbs, said the voice from a long way away, but those streaming out of the city did not seem pleased to see the British army. Those inside the city were attacking them with mortars and machine guns and RPGs mounted on the back of pick-up trucks, but they had been doing that to the Black Watch for days. The Commandos would soon get used to it. The Americans, the radio said, were worried about suicide bombers, but who wasn't? An angry Iraqi woman on the World Service said she would fight to her last drop of blood to keep the invaders out of her country, but she was in Cairo. Jordanians said they thought that war was a bad thing, and wanted it to stop, and they were not alone. And that's the just the way it is today. Not every day can be wham-bang action. Today it is someone else's turn to do the fighting, to get shot at and shelled. The snipers are still out there, playing cat and mouse with the men with the RPGs. The Warriors are preparing to go out on patrol in Az Zubayr, rekindling memories of their days in Northern Ireland and Bosnia. The war goes on. Donald Rumsfeld is on the radio, assuring anyone who will listen that the campaign is going to plan, but among the British troops they wonder: if someone, somewhere, sat down and planned to invade a country this way, what in God's name were they thinking of?

(News copy published April 1) TWO Kenyan lorry drivers captured ten days ago outside the town of Az Zubayr, in southern Iraq, were rescued yesterday after British troops burst into the school where they were being held. David Shira Mukaria and Jakubu Maina Kamau were kept blindfolded, with their hands and feet bound together, and denied food and water by the Iraqi militia who had seized them. They were rescued by members of the Black Watch, the Scottish regiment which is now in control of Az Zubayr, near Basra, after a tip-off from locals. When the soldiers arrived in two Warrior armoured vehicles, they burst in to find the men cowering in one of the school's classrooms. Their captors had fled. The two men told The Scotsman they had spent their time as hostages praying for rescue or death, and listening to the Iraqis discussing whether or not to kill them. They were abducted after becoming separated from a food convoy heading for the southern Iraqi port of Umm Qasr. British military officials initially described them as aid convoy drivers, but the men said they were lorry drivers returning after delivering food supplies to the United States military. They had got lost near Az Zubayr when other vehicles in the convoy switched off their lights and accelerated away about 11pm. A man on the roadside flagged them down with a torch and then about 20 armed men appeared and dragged them from the cab. They were beaten, tied up and taken to the school, which was being used by the Iraqis as a weapons dump and military base. The two men, looking anxious and confused, were paraded on the al-Jazeera television network. Mr Mukaria, 53, said they had been in a convoy of 18 lorries which had taken food to a US camp and were heading back to Camp Rhino in Kuwait. He explained: "The other trucks finished unloading before us. On the way back we lost the way. The convoy switched off the lights and they were driving too fast." He added: "They kept us there for ten days. We had no food or water, nothing. We decided, because we are Christians, that we would ask God to save us or take our souls to heaven. We prayed to God every day. "We could not see them but we heard them talking. Some of them were speaking in English. Some of them said, 'Kill them', some of them said, 'No'. We just prayed and prayed." Mr Kamau, 37, who had rope burns on his wrists, said: "I was sure we were going to die. I remember seeing a man with his finger on the pin of a grenade as they argued about whether they would kill us or not. "David and I are both Christians, and this morning I said, 'We must pray together for a miracle'. So we prayed, and 30 minutes later the door swung open and there were two British soldiers standing there. God must have given them the power to save us. It really was a miracle that they came." Corporal Stewart Robson, 38, of Newcastleton, Roxburghshire, and Lance-Corporal Gavin Dodd, 23, of Newcastle upon Tyne, were first into the building. Cpl Robson said: "When we found them they were in darkness in a room which had all its windows blacked out. They said they'd been beaten and showed us the marks on their wrists where their hands had been tied." L-Cpl Dodd said: "We've seen so much death and suffering out here; it was good to be involved in a story with a happy ending. The two men were overjoyed to see us." Sergeant Bob Barnet, of the Black Watch, said: "We got a signal that two guys were being held in a building and had been kidnapped. We went to the place and searched the building." Sgt Barnet, originally from Annan, in Dumfriesshire, said soldiers pulled up outside the school in Warrior armoured vehicles and ran into the building, kicking down doors, but found the men had been abandoned, along with a stockpile of weapons. "When we found the men, they were happy to see the boys because they had had a stressful couple of days." The two drivers worked for the Springfood company in Saudi Arabia, contracted to carry water and food supplies for the US military. They were hoping to get back their lorry and their passports - and said they would return to Iraq if they could be guaranteed a better escort. "We are not afraid. We ask God to bless the people who took us," said Mr Mukaria. Other British forces in southern Iraq were completing the encirclement of Basra yesterday. Troops and tanks of the Queen's Dragoon Guards advanced to take control of a motorway leading north out of the city of 1.3 million people. South-east of the city, a force of 1,000 Royal Marines from 40 Commando fought a 15-hour battle against Iraqi troops. Hundreds of Iraqi soldiers were taken prisoner, including five senior officers. Before yesterday, British troops had secured only the western and south-western approaches to Basra, but the new advances mean that the city is almost completely surrounded.

(Original news copy) TWO Kenyan truck drivers kidnapped 10 days ago outside the town of Az Zubayr in southern Iraq were rescued yesterday (MON) when British troops burst into the school in which they had been held. David Shira Mukaria and Jakubu Maina Kamau were kept blindfolded, with their hands and feet bound together and without food and water. They said they spent their time in captivity praying for rescue or death, listening to their captors deciding whetheror not to kill them. The men were kidnapped by Iraqi miitia men after becoming separated from a food convoy heading for the southern seaport of Umm Qasr. British military officials said they believed the men were aid convoy drivers but the pair said they had been delivering food supplies to the US military. They said they became lost near Az Zubayr, outside Basra, when the other vehicles in the convoy switched off their lights and the convoy accelerated away. A man approached them at the roadside and flagged them down wth a torch, before about 20 armed men appeared and dragged them from the cab. They said they were beaten, tied up and taken to the school which, like many other civilian buildings in the town, had been taken over by the militia and used as a weapons dump and military base. They were rescued yesterday morning when British troops from the Black Watch, which is in control of the town, were tipped off by local people. Troops were sent to check out the reports and entered the school, expecting to be met by armed resistance. Instead, they found the building had been abandoned by the militia and the two men were found in one of the classrooms. Yesterday the men said they were relieved to have been rescued, but criticised the security around the convoy which had allowed them to become separated and lost. Mr Mukaria, 53, said they were in a convoy of 18 trucks which had taken food to the US camp and had been heading back to Camp Rhino in Kuwait when they became separated from the convoy. "The other trucks finished unloading before us. On the way back we lost the way. The convoy switched off the lights and they were driving too fast," he said. He said they were outside Basra at about 11pm when a man appeared in the road with a torch. "He shone a torch at us and asked us where we were going. We said Kuwait and after that 20 people came to us with their guns. They beat us, tied us up, tied our hands and feet and coverered our eyes and they took everything we had," he said. "They kept us there for 10 days, we had no food or water, nothing. We decided because we are Christians we would ask God to save us or take our souls to heaven. We prayed to God every day. "We could not see tem but we heard them talking. Some of them were speaking in English. Some of them said 'Kill them', some of them said 'No'. We just prayed and prayed." Mr Kamau, who had rope burns on his wrists when he was eventually rescued, said that yesterday morning he believed his prayers had been answered. "I told them God will open this door and let us out," he said. "Half an hour later someone opened the door and ran away. When they opened the door we did not go out because we did not kow if they were still there but two hours later the army came. They came in and found us in the room." British military officials in Az Zubayr said they were tipped off to the presence of the men, who they initially believed to have been aid workers, yesterday morning. Sergeant Bob Barnet, of the Black Watch, said they were told that two men had been kidnapped and were being held in a school on the east side of the town, which has been the centre of intense militia activity in recent days. "We got a signal that two guys were being held in a building and had been kidnapped," he said. "We went to the place where they wre being held and searhed the building." Sgt Barnet, originally from Annan in Dumfrieshire, said they believed that the pair were being held by militia men. They pulled up outside the school in two Warrior armoured vehicles and the soldiers ran into the building, kicking down doors, but found it - and a stockpile of weapons - had been abandoned. "We covered the front and rear of the building, identified an entry point and did a systematic search of the building, but whoever was there had gone," he said. "When we found the men they were happy to see the boys because they had had a stressful couple of days." Guardsman Mark Gray, from Reading said the rescue team was told that there were two hostages inside the school. "The Warrior stopped and we dismounted and moved along a wall, then went in and went through the school kicking in doors and checking the rooms were clear," he said. "We found munitions and Iraqi uniforms, Duschkas [heavy machine guns] and some petrol bombs." The two drivers said they worked for the Springfood company in Saudi Arabia which had been contracted to carry water and food supplies for the US military. They said that they were hoping to get back their truck and their passports and were prepared to return to Iraq if they could be guranteed a better escort next time. "We are not afraid. We ask God to bless the people who took us," said Mr Mukaria.

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