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Embedded With The Marines In Iraq - Dead-Check In Falluja

Evan Wright

November 24, 2004 - In April 9, 2003, the day the statue of Saddam
Hussein was being toppled in Baghdad, symbolizing the promised
liberation of Iraq, I was embedded with a Marine unit engaged in
fierce combat about 30 miles north of the city, on the outskirts of
Baquba. Late that afternoon, the Humvee I was in was following about
50 feet behind a Marine Light Armored Vehicle when it pulled alongside
a Toyota pickup pushed to the side of the road, its doors riddled with
bullet holes. The head of at least one occupant was visible in the
truck, but I couldn't determine if he was moving or not. Nor did I see
any weapons. As our Humvee stopped behind the truck, a Marine in the
vehicle ahead of us leapt out, pointed his rifle into the window of
the pickup and sprayed it with gunfire. It was a cold-blooded
execution.

As we continued forward, passing the truck, I glimpsed at least two
corpses sprawled on the seats, the interior spattered with blood.
During the brief moment I looked, I was unable to determine whether
the dead men possessed weapons. None of the four Marines in our Humvee
said anything. We had been awake for more than 30 hours, much of that
time under steady mortar, rifle, machine-gun, and rocket-propelled
grenade fire from enemy combatants who dressed in civilian clothes and
moved around on the battlefield in Toyota pickups. (To make matters
even more confusing, during the height of combat farmers were racing
into the surrounding fields�where enemy soldiers were shooting at us
from dug-in, concealed positions�in order to rescue sheep from the
gunfire.)

In the previous few minutes we had already passed more than a dozen
corpses strewn by the side of the road. Some had the tops of their
heads missing, expertly hit by Marine riflemen. Others were
burned�still smoking, actually�having crawled out of other vehicles
set ablaze by rockets fired from Marine helicopters. The execution of
one or two more men wasn't worth commenting on.

I greeted the sight of dead Iraqis in the pickup with a sense of numb
relief. At least they would not be trying to kill us that day. In the
preceding two-and-a-half weeks, the unit I was embedded with had come
under frequent enemy attack, with three Marines wounded. There were 23
bullet holes in the Humvee I rode in�miraculously, none of the five of
us inside had been hit. I had developed a strange relationship with
the sight of dead Iraqis. I felt safer when I saw them.

I felt especially comforted when I saw dead men by the road still
clutching weapons in their hands, a common sight. Unfortunately, of
the hundreds of dead people I saw on the roads leading from the Kuwait
border to Baghdad, perhaps 20 percent or more were obviously
civilians. I will never forget the three or four women I saw fatally
shot and partially burned, still seated in a bus on the road north of
Nasiriyah. Or the little girl, about four, lying by the side of the
road in a pretty dress, her legs neatly and inexplicably chopped off
at the knees. Mercifully, I remember thinking at the time, she was
dead like all the others.

Since my return from Iraq, I have continued to watch the horror unfold
on television. It's different seeing the violence decontextualized
from the battlefield, now playing out in discrete video clips that run
between ads for Chevys and the Olive Garden. Videos of militants
staging beheadings against dungeon-like backdrops, with the
perpetrators wearing masks and the victims in colorful jumpsuits, seem
almost like grotesque TV shows.

One of the great ironies of the Bush administration, obsessed as it is
with Christian values and the attendant crusade to punish what it
deems obscene and lewd in the media (from Janet Jackson's breast to
Howard Stern's speech), is that it has given us a war in which the
airing of snuff films on national TV has become routine. The conflict
in Iraq, as seen through news coverage, has begun to resemble the
macabre underground 1980s video series Faces of Death. Throw in the
images produced by the U.S. Army at Abu Ghraib, and the administration
has put itself in the running to successfully compete with the BDSM
side of the porn industry.

Just as I thought I was adjusting to the video carnage, NBC
correspondent Kevin Sites, embedded with U.S. forces in Falluja, gave
us last week's shocker: the video of a Marine standing over a wounded,
apparently unarmed Arab sprawled on the floor of a mosque and
executing him with a gunshot to the head.

It brought back memories of the April 9 episode and others I witnessed
in Iraq. Yet, watching this on TV, I felt the same outrage many others
have expressed. American soldiers, we like to believe, don't shoot
unarmed people. Not only is this morally repugnant, but execution of
wounded, unarmed combatants violates Article Three of the Geneva
Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, which states
in part that "persons taking no active part in the hostilities,
including members of armed forces who have laid down their arms and
those placed hors de combat by sickness, wounds, detention, or any
other cause, shall in all circumstances be treated humanely."

Even to those unfamiliar with the Geneva Conventions, it seems obvious
from the mosque video that a war crime was committed. The response
from the administration and military officials has been unusually
swift. Ambassador to Iraq John Negroponte conveyed his regrets to
Prime Minister Ayad Allawi and vowed that "the individual in question
will be dealt with." The Marine in the video, whose name has been
withheld, was pulled from duty, and his commanders issued a statement
promising to investigate what they called "an allegation of the
unlawful use of force in the death of an enemy combatant." Lieutenant
General John F. Sattler, commander of the 1st Marine Expeditionary
Force in Iraq, added in an interview, "We follow the law of armed
conflict and hold ourselves to a high standard of accountability."

One thing military officials are not saying is that the behavior of
the Marine in the video closely conforms to training that is fairly
standard in some units. Marines call executing wounded combatants
"dead-checking."

"They teach us to do dead-checking when we're clearing rooms," an
enlisted Marine recently returned from Iraq told me. "You put two
bullets into the guy's chest and one in the brain. But when you enter
a room where guys are wounded you might not know if they're alive or
dead. So they teach us to dead-check them by pressing them in the eye
with your boot, because generally a person, even if he's faking being
dead, will flinch if you poke him there. If he moves, you put a bullet
in the brain. You do this to keep the momentum going when you're
flowing through a building. You don't want a guy popping up behind you
and shooting you."

What I'd seen on that road outside of Baquba on April 9 was a
dead-check. The Marine who fired into that Toyota with wounded men
inside didn't want anybody shooting at us as we went past. It may have
been a war crime, and had I possessed a video camera at the time and
filmed it, the Marine who fired into the truck might have faced
punishment. As it was, no one questioned the Marine's actions.

In fact, commanders in the Marine Corps during the period I was
embedded with them in the spring of 2003 repeatedly emphasized that
the men's actions would not be questioned. As one of the officers in
the unit I followed used to tell his men, "You will be held
accountable for the facts not as they are in hindsight but as they
appeared to you at the time. If, in your mind, you fire to protect
yourself or your men, you are doing the right thing. It doesn't matter
if later on we find out you wiped out a family of unarmed civilians."

Commanders didn't want their men to suffer casualties because they
were overly constrained by rules of engagement. At the same time,
Marines were constantly drilled in refraining from shooting their
weapons, even at certain times when they came under fire. On one
afternoon I recall in particular, the unit I was with was ordered to
hold a position on the outskirts of a hostile town. For six hours,
insurgents fired at the Marines from rooftops and from behind piles of
rubble they'd set up in streets as barricades. But the Marines I was
with, unable to pinpoint the exact locations of the enemy shooters,
refused to fire back for fear of hitting civilians. The 22-year-old
radio operator of the team I was with had it within his power to call
in an artillery strike on the corner of the town where most of the
enemy forces seemed concentrated. At one point, while I was crouched
in the dirt, taking cover behind the tire of the Humvee as enemy
sniper rounds popped into the dust nearby, I asked him why he didn't
call in a strike. He simply laughed at my display of fear.

There were other times when the enlisted men in the unit fell into
violent quarrels with others whom they felt were too aggressive and
risked civilian lives. In one instance, enlisted men nearly came to
blows with an officer whom they accused of firing a weapon into a
house that they believed contained civilians. Despite their concern,
terrible mistakes were made. I was standing next to a 22-year-old
Marine from the Humvee I rode in when he fired his machine gun
prematurely at a civilian car approaching a roadblock, striking the
driver, an unarmed man, in the eye. The unit was subsequently ordered
to drive past the car without rendering aid. I sat next to the gunner
as we crept past, listening to the dying man gasp for breath. The
gunner didn't talk for the next three days. A few days earlier, the
youngest Marine on the team had shot a 12-year-old boy four times in
the chest with his machine gun, mistakenly thinking a stick the boy
had been carrying was a weapon. When the mother and grandmother of the
boy later dragged him to the Marines' lines seeking medical aid, the
sergeant who led the team dropped down in front of the mother and
cried.

The Marines constantly debated the morality of what they were engaged
in. A sergeant in the platoon told me he had consulted with his priest
about killing. The priest had told him it was all right to kill for
his government so long as he didn't enjoy it. By the time the unit
reached the outskirts of Baghdad, this sergeant was certain he had
already killed at least four men. When his battalion commander praised
the unit for "slaying dragons" on the way to Baghdad, the sergeant
later told his men, "If we did half the shit back home we've done
here, we'd be in prison." By then, the sergeant told me, he'd
reconsidered what his priest had told him about killing. "Where the
fuck did Jesus say it's OK to kill people for your government? Any
priest who tells me that has got no credibility."

He and several other Marines recently returned from Iraq (many from
their second tours) whom I've talked to about the Falluja shooting say
they are not sure they would have dead-checked the wounded man in the
mosque had they been in the same position. Most say they probably
would have, even though the mosque had already been cleared once.
"What does the American public think happens when they tell us to
assault a city?" one of them said. "Marines don't shoot rainbows out
of our asses. We fucking kill people."

Another Marine in the unit I followed�a Democrat's dream, he returned
home from fighting in Falluja in time to vote for Kerry�added,
"Americans celebrate war in their movies. We like to see visions of
evil being defeated by good. When the people at home glimpse the
reality of war, that it's a bloodbath, they freak out. We are a
subculture they created and programmed to fight their wars. You have
to become a psycho to kill like we do. To most Marines that guy in the
mosque was just someone who didn't get hit in the right place the
first time we shot him. I probably would have put a bullet in his
brain if I'd been there. If the American public doesn't like the
violence of war, maybe before they start the next war they shouldn't
rush so much."

Evan Wright is the author of Generation Kill, about a Marine
reconnaissance unit in Iraq.




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