Sitting ducks for snipers' bullets, far from home and unable to contact their
families, US troops in Iraq are finding their morale slipping away. Lee Gordon
talks to servicemen and women for whom victory in the Gulf now has a hollow
ring
13 July 2003


'We didn't win this war, not at all," said reserve infantryman Eric Holt, on
guard outside the Republican Palace in Baghdad. "I don't know what I'm doing
here and I don't like what's happening in this city," continued the
28-year-old
from New York State. "It ain't right for the folks here. You know, there are a
whole lot of our girls getting pregnant just so they can go home quick."

Morale among troops in the Iraqi capital has plunged, not least because of new
orders that could see them there for a year instead of six months. Four
soldiers
have been shot by snipers or at close range near Baghdad University in the
last
seven days, in apparently random killings similar to that of the British
journalist Richard Wild last weekend. The 24-year-old former British army
officer was killed by a single shot to the back of his head after leaving the
university, where he had been meeting Islamic groups.

The investigation into Mr Wild's death has been hampered by the decision of
the
military police to withdraw from the campus, where religious edicts have
appeared on the walls ordering females to cover their heads. Only one company
of
about 100 former New York and LA army policemen is responsible for
investigating
crimes, and the order to stay away from the university means it has not been
able to interview witnesses or find forensic evidence such as the spent
bullet.
Meanwhile Mr Wild's body is understood to be at the airport waiting transfer
to
Britain. The British embassy has declined to say more.

Violence is commonplace in Baghdad. On Monday a soldier was killed and three
others injured when a home-made bomb was tossed on to a military convoy as it
emerged from an underpass. The explosion ripped into a Humvee military car,
tossing it across the road.

A crowd gathered to watch as the three injured soldiers were loaded into
another
Humvee. Sergeant Patrick Compton, who bore the brunt of the explosion, lay
across the front seat of the damaged vehicle holding his torn and badly burnt
arm, screaming for help. He was helped into the rescue vehicle but later died
of
his injuries. Asked about the incident, a sergeant in the military police
smiled
and lifted his helmet to wipe the sweat that was running down his face. "We're
going to help clean up this mess and move out of here. Quickly. There is no
damn
chance of us catching anyone." Pointing to his men, who were trying to hold
back
a crowd of around 100 pushing towards the debris, he said: "There is nothing
more we can do."

Outside Baghdad the situation is also difficult. Border guards, far away from
internet cafés and international telephones, find contacting their families
particularly problematic. Forbidden from using military satellite
communications, they often stop passing Iraqi traders and ask to use their
telephones. A 22-year-old guard, part of a tank unit at the border, said he
had
not spoken to his wife for three months. It takes at least two months to
receive
a reply to a letter.

Perhaps not surprisingly, anecdotal evidence points to a growing number of
breaches of military discipline. A spokesman said any soldier who fell
pregnant
would almost certainly be dishonourably discharged from the army and might
even
face a court martial, unless she was pregnant by her husband.

Prostitutes have now appeared. Rana, a 21-year-old Iraqi woman from Saddam's
home town of Tikrit, said she had been working as a prostitute for a month
near
the army barracks in Abu Nawaz Street, central Baghdad. Most of her clients
are
US soldiers. She charges $50 for a night, including a room in a hotel in
nearby
Saddoon Street.

A receptionist at the hotel, where rooms are $30 for a twin, said there was no
prostitution before the invasion. "We don't want our women to do these
things,"
he said, adding that soldiers also try to sell handguns to make money. "They
come in here and ask if I want to buy small guns a few times a week but we
don't
need any, we have a Kalashnikov."

The 11pm curfew means prostitutes and the brothels conduct their business
early
in the day. "Commanders turn a blind eye to soldiers who consort with
prostitutes," a tank soldier said. "They understand the pressure on their
troops."

"We're working 14 hours a day guarding and on patrol," a 21-year-old female
reservist from Oklahoma said. "I finish and go straight to sleep then wake up
an
hour before duty, shower and start again. I don't think I can take an extra
six
months. I was looking forward to going home in October. But we're lucky in our
squad because we drew down some cops from New York. The sergeant is from the
Bronx. They're real tough and they're holding us together."

She spoke on the condition that she remain anonymous after her commander
ordered
troops not to give media interviews. Her colleague, a 26-year-old reservist
from
Houston who was studying to become a police officer, said she planned to quit
the army as soon as she got home. "I've been in the army eight years and I
can't
do it any more, not after this. We're sitting here like targets and the Iraqis
are getting bolder. They're taking a pop in broad daylight." One of the
military
policemen from her squad had cracked up and been sent home this week after a
skirmish with Iraqi attackers, she said. "When I heard we might get another six
months I wanted to cry."