WAR STORIES

Crisis, The, Mar/Apr 2004 by Labbe, Theola

BLACK SOLDIERS IN THEIR OWN WORDS

A year has passed since the United States invaded Iraq. The war lasted only a few weeks before President Bush eventually announced on May 1 that combat operations had ended. In the period since, winning the peace has been more challenging than winning the war. While occupying Iraq, American soldiers have endured 100-plus degree heat and daily resistance from insurgents. At press time, the U.S. had suffered a total of 547 military deaths since the war began - 378 of them categorized as "hostile," the others, accidents, friendly-fire incidents or suicides. The number wounded in hostile encounters has reached 2,709. Although deposed Iraqi president Saddam Hussein was captured on Dec. 13, the brave men and women of the U.S. Armed Forces in Iraq continue to face guerilla attacks up to two dozen times a day.

There are more than 130,000 U.S. troops in Iraq. The Army is carrying out the majority of operations in the country. According to the Army, about 28 percent of Army enlisted personnel (36,272) in Iraq are Black; About 13.2 percent of Army officers in Iraq (2,553) are Black.

African Americans have a long history of military service that dates back to fighting against the British in the Revolutionary War. That service continues today. The Crisis asked several Black U.S. Army soldiers serving in Iraq to share their war stories, in their own words.

SERGEANT JAMEAIL R. ARE, 24, HOUSTON, TEXAS

President Bush told the nation in 2003 to prepare for war and thousands of reservists like Sgt. Are, whose unit is based in Montgomery, Ala., got the call and had to leave their old lives behind:

On Valentine's Day last year, I was told to report for duly as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom. 1 was a senior at Tuskegee University studying occupational therapy.

I moved to Fort Stewart, Ga. For two months my mind and spirit were in shock. I cried every time I thought of school because that's where my heart was - not on a base in a military uniform having to follow orders. My mom and I tried to talk every day. She stayed a nervous wreck, thinking about me being gone, and hearing how sad I was because I couldn't graduate with my class.

Soon I was on a flight to Kuwait. It would get up to 130 degrees daily and I would count the hours until sundown. The convoy north to Mosul, where 1 live now, was a three-day trip. When we passed through Baghdad, I felt culture shock from seeing the women covered from head to toe, some of them with children and begging for food, and men with shacks on the street selling all types of things from Pepsi to knives. Each time we stopped, we had to guard the perimeter around our vehicles to prevent attacks.

The next stop was Camp Anaconda, one of Saddam Hussein's air force bases. It was huge, like the ones in the United States, but sandier. We slept under the stars. The next morning we left for Mosul.

I live in a tent right down from one of Hussein's palaces. My sleeping quarters are across from where I work in one of his guesthouses. I am the secretary of the message center. Even though the palace was looted after the war, I ean still see its beauty.

The Army band practices alongside my tent, and they play everything from Bob Marlcy to rock singer Chad Kroeger. I can appreciate that. I also take time for myself in the early morning. The quiet has helped me regain my sanity and peace. My new challenge is not constantly worrying about when I will return home - I've heard so many rumors. Only God knows. I just try to be content and have a good attitude.

SPECIALIST

NICOLE THOMPSON 26

COLUMBIA, S.C.

The majority of the U.S. troops stationed in Iraq are in Baghdad, the capital city whose population numbers 5 million. The heavily guarded U.S.-led. administration has its headquarters there in Saddam Hussein 's former presidential palaces. But Spc. Thompson still finds there is no respite from enemy attacks:

I live inside the U.S.-led administration headquarters in Baghdad, where explosions are frequent. The first time the AlRashid hotel was attacked, in September 2003,1 didn't wake up until the final explosion. There was a light knock at our door and a guard told us to evacuate. After that, I was pretty much unfazed and ready for anything.

Nearly one month later, at about 6 a.m. on Oct. 26, a volley of rockets hit the hotel. I don't know what floor the first rocket hit, but it must have been very close to me. I jumped right up and told my roommate to get some clothes on. It felt like an eternity for us to scramble into some pants and shoes.

The explosions would not stop. I could feel the building tremble over and over again with each blast; some were closer to me, others on floors farther away. During the few minutes of the attacks, survival thoughts raced through my head. Shorts are faster to put on, but pants have pockets for ammunition and provide protection for knees. Identification: Is it important or not? Should I lie down and take cover or move out as quickly as possible?

My roommate and I stepped into the hallway. From the floor to the ceiling, the corridor was filled with thick gray smoke, and there was the faint blast of an emergency air horn. At that moment, fear crept inside me. We grabbed our plastic smoke hoods and began our escape. I heard my roommate calling out that she could not see. I don't remember if she was saying my name or calling for me, but I recognized the fright in her voice. I turned around, and went back to find her. She was near a pile of rubble and struggling to find the emergency staircase without the aid of glasses and her vision more impaired by the smoke and the hood.