Saturday, 08 November 2003

08:30 – Baghdad. The Gurka’s have been reassigned, it seems. As I left the palace this morning en route to the shower trailer, the exterior door was guarded by two well-armed Marines. When I returned, they scrutinized my identification to a degree long disregarded by the Nepalese soldiers they replaced. I missed their entrance, but those who did likened it to an attack on the palace as they secured their position.

The Gurkas generally dressed only in their BDU’s (Basic Duty Uniforms), and were armed with M-16’s and long curved knives. These Marines are clad in their DCU’s (Desert Camouflage Uniforms), but also have rifles, pistols, knives, throat mounted radio, plastic handcuffs, flak vests and helmets. Apparently, they are specially trained in anti-terrorist/anti-insurgency techniques and will repel or destroy any anti-coalition forces that should breech the palace compound.

It would appear then, that Bremer and Kennedy have developed a plan for the defense of the Palace. Good. Elite fighting men have been placed on our perimeter. Good. The Gurkas have been tasked to patrol the “man camps” (trailer parks) around the palace, where there were no patrols before. Good. But can they defend against Igor Klic’s forehand? I don’t think so.

I played a few sets of tennis one recent Friday afternoon with Igor “Doktor Pumps” Klic and Peter “the Wolf” Petrovski, part of the Czech contingent here. Both work for the CPA, Igor in the shadow Ministry of Water Resources, and Peter in the shadow Ministry of Defense. If I could keep Peter running cross court, I had a chance at a point or two. With Igor though, only luck kept me from getting blanked,... and maybe the fact that I was using a poorly strung and small headed racket (it must have been the equipment).

Ultimately, they both ran me ragged.

Strange event, though. The courts are on the grounds of the Al Rashid, west of the hotel. If we were playing in the morning, I could have said that I “played in the shadow of the missile riddled hotel”, but I’m not into that Fox News kind of reporting. There were no hotel shadows on the west lawn in the afternoon. Actually, there were very few shadows at all. It was very sunny and very hot and very dry and each time the ball hit the paved court, puffs of dust would be dislodged. More dust to be re-lodged in the back of my throat.

The court fence has been incorporated into the defensive perimeter and has been topped with concertina wire. The adjacent pool has been drained since before the war and unused and dusty deck chairs are randomly scattered about it. The hotel is essentially deserted while it undergoes repairs, so there were no guests strolling the lawn. The building itself still shows the damage from each impact; blown out windows, shattered concrete, ash and residue from the explosions pepper the facade of the middle floors.

And we’re the only ones around, and we’re playing a few friendly sets of tennis.