A few good men
U.S. special operations forces are turning Iraqi soldiers into well-trained commandos
The Americans start out leading, then guiding, then backing up the Iraqis. At the commando training school, where a third class of aspirants is now grunting through the grueling obstacle course and classwork, they get tips in jumping high walls, conquering fear of heights and tunnels, and how to crawl along a rope, with one leg dangling for balance.
The training is dramatically different from the old Iraqi model in one key way. Even though about half of the counterterrorist unit members served in Iraq's military, they were not prepared for the commando structure, where each man must think for himself. An Iraqi captain, who fought the marines outside Kut, says, "We have learned to work as brothers and not call each other by ranks."
Raining mortars. At the urban base where the 36th Commando Battalion lives, Americans and Iraqis weather the weekly rain of mortars together. The 36th is the oldest component of the ISOF. Like the counterterrorist unit, its members are roughly the same ethnic and religious makeup of the population, and its company commanders are both Kurd and Arab.
On the Eid al Adha holiday, the 36th was hard at work. The special forces set up moving shooting drills and mock assaults in bombed-out buildings and their own barracks. In these close-quarter battle drills, the trainers form part of the "stack," shoulder to shoulder, just as they are in battle. As they broke for lunch, an easy camaraderie ensued, one born of experience; these Americans fought beside Iraqi militias in the north and spent years amid the ethnic stew of the Balkans. When it was time for tea with the Kurdish commander, they took bets on how many gifts he will hand out.
Still, life in the 36th is no picnic. Although it is part of the elite brigade, the 36th still lacks critical gear, such as radios, sights for the AK-47s, and enough night-vision goggles. Their trucks have no armor--eight soldiers were killed by a roadside bomb in December as they headed for a training exercise--and death threats, known as "night letters," plague their unit. Indeed, the plan is to move all the ISOF, with their families, into a base now under construction. Still, by July, the U.S. special operations commander hopes to see the brigade on a par with his own men, in both equipment and skill. A tall order perhaps, but a special forces captain who has worked with the ISOF for nine months marvels at the progress the Iraqi charges have made. "This war is important, and it is winnable," he says. "If I get killed, I don't want anyone telling my family that it was in vain."
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