U.S. Marines in Iraq's Sunni Heartland Prepare to Pull Back From Once-Violent Cities
RAMADI, IRAQ—The squad of Marines from the 2/9 Weapons Company is understandably nervous about moving through the market district in downtown Ramadi. Most are on their first tour here, but they well know that these were once some of the bloodiest streets for American troops in a city at one time the heart of a Sunni insurgency that harbored Al Qaeda in Iraq. So when a truck driver slams the gate of his vehicle, the marines briefly flick their rifles up, eyes alert and scanning rooftops.
But the streets are crowded and calm. Many residents, in fact, are surprised to see the six Americans on a joint patrol with the Iraqi police. "What are you doing here?" a carpet store owner asks casually. "We thought you'd stopped patrolling."
In the coming months, the marines will leave the cities in Anbar province, including Ramadi and Fallujah, and pull back to the large bases outside of urban centers. For the Americans, it's a race to shore up the Iraqi police and government so that they will have to leave those bases as infrequently as possible. "We're in the last 10 yards of this mission," says Maj. Gen. John Kelly, who leads coalition forces in western Iraq, including Anbar.
But make no mistake, he adds, serious challenges remain, including infighting between tribes, an ongoing flood of released prisoners, and the failure of the Shiite-dominated central government to provide resources to the province. Then, of course, there are the coming provincial elections, which are needed to shift power away from unpopular and recalcitrant former exiles elected after most Sunnis boycotted the previous vote. It's this convergence of events, each of which alone could plunge the region back into chaos, that has prompted Gen. David Petraeus to repeatedly describe the remarkable decline in violence in Iraq as "fragile" and "still reversible."
Certainly, the decline in carnage has been stunning. Two years ago, internal Marine intelligence officers had all but written off Anbar province, concluding that the fight had been lost both socially and politically. There were dozens of roadside bombings, shootings, and spasms of chaotic violence every week just in the 2/9 Weapons Company's area of east Ramadi. Today, there are fewer than a dozen violent incidents a week in the entire province. Most of them are intertribal in nature and tend to be settled privately, usually at gunpoint.
The marines won't be decreasing their numbers when they consolidate forces to larger camps, at least not right away. And few are predicting an immediate spike in violence when U.S. troops retreat to their bases. After all, the increase in American forces never was the main reason for the sharp decline in violence. Instead, by 2005— long before the surge—the numerous Sunni tribes in Anbar were already considering an alliance with U.S. forces, whom they viewed as the only counterweight to ascendant Shiites in Iraq, says Joost Hiltermann, deputy Middle East program director for the Brussels-based International Crisis Group. The particularly barbaric violence at the hands of AQI later became a rallying cry, one touted by the U.S. military. But it was the tribal calculations that made and have kept the peace in a region long fearful of the government in Baghdad.
Even today, there's little presence here of Iraq's national army, comprised mostly of Shiites and Kurds. When a local Iraqi Army unit moved from outside Ramadi to Diyala recently to aid in security, the people of the city didn't even notice. What they do notice are the Iraqi police, local Sunnis who patrol and man checkpoints in their distinctive bright blue uniforms.
Former foes. Many of the police are new hires, former insurgents who have renounced violence at the behest of tribal leaders. They came from groups like the so-called Sons of Iraq, militia units that incorporated many former insurgents into local security forces. But the central government agreed to integrate only about 40 percent of the SOI into the police, leaving the rest without stable work and fueling concern that many will return to violence.
For these men, "carrying a weapon in some capacity is very much a mark of honor," says Wayne White, formerly the State Department's top intelligence expert on Iraq and now with the Middle East Institute. If offered government jobs, many would be unlikely to accept, he adds. "And who knows what those turned away would do with themselves in that scenario?" Indeed, some former SOI members have been arrested by police or coalition forces in recent weeks on fears they would return to their insurgent pasts.
The existing Iraqi police units have managed to keep a lid on the violence in Ramadi. But keeping the peace in these neighborhoods often means relying on men who earned their chops serving Saddam Hussein. One commander, known only as Colonel Hassan, heads the Ramadi police force after spending more than 25 years in military intelligence under the former regime. Dressed in a crisp blue uniform, he keeps a machine gun and a white-handled machete behind his desk. During a recent meeting, Capt. Dallas Shaw, commander of the 2/9 Weapons Company, inquired about an insurgent rumored to have been released. "Don't listen to rumors," Hassan said with a chuckle. "I decide what goes on in my area and who gets released." Hassan has proved to be one of the more dependable and trustworthy chiefs in town. One of his fellow police commanders wears a hatchet on his belt. He became a local legend when he used it in the middle of the street to kill several captured AQI members.
Despite Hassan's bravado, there are some 3,000 prisoners returning to Ramadi as part of a national prisoner release. "It's a concern and one of the first challenges for the Iraqi security forces that we've worked to bolster," says Shaw. "If they are able to monitor these men and keep them out of trouble, it will be a major success."
Reconstruction of cities and infrastructure—sorely needed in Anbar—is also being transitioned to the Iraqis. The marines in Anbar now tell Iraqi leaders to ask Baghdad, instead of them, for funding for things like trash collection and fuel. "It's not a lack of money. It's that we are slowly going away, and you'll need to do this for yourselves," Shaw tells a group of city counselors.
Since 2005, the United States has pumped some $1.2 billion into the province, according to military estimates. But the Shiite-dominated central government has never been keen on sending money to the Sunnis in Anbar. "Baghdad likes to throw monkey wrenches into things for this province," says Lt. Col. Grady Belyeu, who works on reconstruction budgeting for Marine units.
"It's too soon." Tribal leaders in Anbar want the marines to leave, but not quite yet. These leaders have enjoyed lucrative reconstruction projects and fear a resurgence of Iranian influence. "We want the Americans to stay here and continue funding projects in the city," says Kaleef Mohammad Rahim, deputy chief of the North Ramadi Council. "We know Americans want us to be independent and stand on our own two feet, but it's too soon."
A major step toward independence is coming with the elections scheduled at the end of the year. The first provincial vote was boycotted by most Sunnis, a move that has dramatically hampered the functioning of local government. The coming election's aftermath, however, is uncertain. Sunnis in Anbar will likely side with their tribes, many agree, placing them in power and perhaps fueling internecine strife. The tribes are far from united, and it has recently become clear that many leaders who were first to fight against AQI and side with the Americans are not as adept at campaigning. Many of those who were late to shift have done better at winning over potential voters, a split that is at the heart of the sporadic unrest.
The marines' task is to keep a lid on things until the newly elected government can assert authority over the province or they are called back to their bases, whichever comes first. For now, they are backing those in charge of security. Shaw and his marines recently brought a live sheep to a funeral for one of Colonel Hassan's relatives, a 5-year-old who was hit by a car this month. Such a gift is a sign of respect among the tribes, and one that the marines hope will ingratiate them with those who are, soon, supposed to be taking control.
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