Sunday, October 26, 2003

05:30 – Baghdad. My new temporary work space is a vast improvement over the old, primarily because it gives me more space – the room is twice as large, and there is one third the bodies. It’s on the second floor, so it’s only fourteen feet high. The width is the standard sixteen feet, and it’s probably thirty-two feet deep.

It’s also very nice in that it is along way from the Al Rasheed, which was hit by numerous rockets early on the 26th, killing at least one American, amputating a couple of limbs, injuring a dozen more, and (as one witness explained) causing a lot of blood. The attack could have been aimed at Assistant Secretary of Defense Wolfowitz, who was housed at the hotel at the time (and missed by less than 20 meters). The attack was timed to coincide with the lifting of the seven month curfew at the first dawn of Ramadan, the Muslim holy month.

Just the night before, I was thinking, “Tet Offensive”, as I was inspecting a Russian AK-47 offered to me by a soldier bunked nearby. This morning’s attack was hardly a massed campaign, but it certainly was offensive. Maybe I’ll try to find a pistol, just in case.

Notification of attacks in greater Baghdad, and the Green Zone especially, travels at light speed. From word of mouth in the offices and cafeteria, as well as through a daisy chain of telephone calls, to make sure that everyone is accounted for. Immediately thereafter is a rush of electro-mail stateside, to remind families not to worry.

The attacks this morning were launched from a private vehicle outside of the secure area (a series of rockets in tubes mounted on a truck rigged to look like a generator). As is usually the case, the attackers were long gone by the time the rapid response team arrived. Helicopters were everywhere for a time; flying the injured to the hospital, surveilling, and searching for targets. I had seen a number of Chinooks in days past, but I saw my first helicopter gunship this morning.

The sound of helicopters used to give me the willies, but I think I’m getting used to it now. Or benumbed. Or whatever.

Security has been tightened to the point that there is no entrance to the palace grounds except by special permission. As such, there is no one here to meet with, as scheduled yesterday, and I’ll get little done today, besides going through the motions. “Spinning wheels got to go round.” Right, Ike?

Maybe take an early lunch.

An “All Hands” electromail came ‘round this afternoon explaining that al residents of the Al Rasheed would be relocated to the palace compound over the next eight to fourteen hours. This explains why I saw soldiers setting up even more cots in the interim space that I share with the snorers. There will be no sleep tonight, I’m sure, as the newbies will be tossing and turning, beds squeaking and creaking.

Craig called an impromptu meeting after lunch. This was to remind us that, “this is a dangerous place,… he had a gun in his hand” and that we could bail at any time. As of yet, no one has taken him up on his offer. The work still offers enough potential to outweigh the risks of living here.