This Is Gonna Hurt A Little

Protective blast-wall covered in Arabic sits behind some plastic flowers at a check point. I'm sure it says something about "deadly force is authorized".

One of the many things that I bounce around with is the Japanese culture; at least what I envision it to be. I’m not sure what has attracted me to it for almost my entire life; maybe it’s the whole warrior-monk, search for spirituality, samurai thing. Who knows? Frankly I gave up trying to analyze the reasons for the affinity many years ago and am just going with it.

As part of this “interest” I’ve dabbled in such pursuits as Aikido, iaido (sword drawing, cutting, and return techniques), shodo (calligraphy), shakuhachi (bamboo flute) ikebana (flower arranging), haiku writing, sake (rice wine) appreciation, and the Japanese language as a whole. As you can imagine, this has been a great source of entertainment for my wife, only tempered by the fact that she is an aficionado of the culture as well.

I’ve played around with learning the language since I was in college in 1985 and it’s always been an uphill battle. During my military career The Army spent tons of money and time trying to force Spanish into my noggin, with limited success, so Japanese has been a bit of a challenge. I've never attempted formal classes as it's been hard to schedule them, so I've sort of gone about it on my own using books, CDs, and anything else I can get my hands on. My Japanese language library at home rivals anything that Barnes & Noble could offer.

Lately I’ve discovered several outstanding on-line language resources and have delved back into this painful practice once again. I’m finding that it’s a fairly productive way to spend my time while deployed; better than sitting around watching DVDs. Of course Arabic would be the obvious choice while plunked down in Iraq, but I find the language guttural and not very attractive, to say nothing of the culture.

I’m happy plodding away with Japanese. I’ll never be able to attain the heights that I have in Spanish, but it’s a good mental exercise and I enjoy the challenge. Again, I’m sure my wife will be looking on with great amusement as I continue to struggle.

One Tick Closer

A little Iraqi girl smiles for the camera

We spent yesterday at Camp Victory, a sprawling military outpost adjoining the Baghdad airport. The camp is one of the largest bases in Iraq and home to some thousands of soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, and contractors. While our media team went off with the military to cover a massive re-enlistment ceremony, my partner and I retreated to what is known as the Green Bean; the local coffee spot.

I passed most of the day sitting in the makeshift, air conditioned coffee shop that is ever so popular with Victory’s inhabitants. The structure is comprised of twin trailers joined together, air conditioners mounted every five feet on the white metal walls, and leather couches and tables surrounding the massive coffee bar. Over the hours I watched hundreds of military personnel and civilian contractors come and go; the very lifeblood of the reconstruction effort in Iraq. This was how they were spending their 4th of July as well. It seemed like any other day on Camp Victory.

Men and women dressed in dust covered uniforms with weapons slung over their shoulders sat around drinking iced drinks as fast as the Green Bean staff could turn them out. Some were sporting black Army PT shorts but still wore leather shoulder holsters or drop-leg rigs carrying sand-covered handguns. Contractors lounged about in their ever standard 5.11 pants and t-shirts; well-tanned arms often adorned with tattoos.

It was just another day here, the same ebb and flow of people working at their jobs, biding their time in Iraq until they’re able to return home. Some came to this country out of a sense of duty, others for the money, most simply because this is where the military sent them. Nonetheless, there we were, in a makeshift coffee trailer celebrating the 4th of July all together; everyone with a sense of it was yet another day in Iraq, just one more tick closer to being home.

Honor and Commitment In The Security Industry

Showing the neighborhood kids the magic of digital cameras

I don’t write much on the security industry as a whole, but I had a discussion with a fellow contractor the other day and thought that I would put a few words down for those that were not aware of how things worked.

My beef with many operators working in the industry is their propensity to “jump contracts”, in other words coming over to Iraq or Afghanistan on one contract and immediately start looking around for something better. Once they find a job that might be marginally better in terms of pay, living conditions, or mission, they immediate leave the original position and move to the later. Once there, the process starts all over again. At what point to they give their full measure to the task at hand? For lack of a better term, it’s very mercenary in nature, and it doesn’t bode well for the contractor’s sense of loyalty and commitment. If the individual operator cannot be loyal to his or her commitments what makes anyone believe that they will display any loyalty to their fellow teammates or the client?

To be fair, contracting security companies are often guilty of something similar, knows as “resume gathering”, sort of a form of bait and switch. In order for a security company to bid on a contract it will have to show that it can produce the required number of qualified personnel. As a result, companies make false representations to high-end contractors in order to secure their resumes. Once the contract is in-hand the company hires lower-skilled contractors instead in order to save money or increase its profit margin. Again, if a company shows no loyalty and respect to perspective operators why would anyone think that it will honor its commitments to the client?

Security contracting is a very competitive business. Margins have shrunk considerably over the past years and therefore some of the practices have become less than desirable. You live and die in this industry based on your reputation. If you treat your employer, the client, or your teammates with something other than complete up-right honesty and respect you will not be long in the security world.

A Day At The Airport... Or Four

Time stands still. The Arrivals board at Baghdad's airport that has not functioned since the first Gulf War.

Air travel in and out of Baghdad has always been tenuous, but lately it’s been particularly bad. Frequent biblical sandstorms and airline maintenance/crew issues have made traveling by plane to and from Iraq’s capital truly a hit or miss venture. It’s not uncommon for travelers to wait several days before they can complete their journeys. The lucky ones are able to stay in modern hotels in Amman or Dubai waiting flights into Iraq, the damned are stranded in the skeleton of Baghdad International Airport waiting.

This makes me laugh. The Information Desk can only tell you were the bathrooms are, which is pretty obvious if you simply just follow the smell.

Getting a traveler to the Baghdad airport requires a good bit of security and is often very expensive. Once you’ve been dropped off at the airport, the security team leaves, and you’re there to stay, all to often for a few days. In a large, modern international airport that’s no great pain as there are hotels, restaurants, VIP clubs, and other diversions to help pass he time. Baghdad has practically none of that, and the stranded are forced to sit and wait in a crowded, dingy, smoke-filled room with a few hundred other perspective passengers often reeking of the sweat of humanity. The chairs are mostly broken plastic, the carpet is beyond stained, and to add to the discomfort there is never any flight information. The airline employees have less information than you do, rumors are move around like the plague, and quite frankly no one even cares.

A fashionable Muslim woman waits. I wonder if she's been the the airport's Prayer Room yet?

Off to one side of the terminal “lounge” is a Muslim prayer room. Every time that I walk past I can’t help but wonder how many believers have gone in there and prayed to Allah to deliver them from the hell that is the Baghdad airport.

Blasphemous?

Iraqi boy sits in a dirt pile along the side of the road.

I remember some years ago a news story that reported, then First Lady, Hillary Clinton wanting to rid the White House of uniformed military. Back then I was a serving officer and thought the whole idea blasphemous. Today, I’m not so sure she didn’t have a point.

If you look at news footage of less-developed countries, uniformed personnel surround their heads of state. Some of the Latin American countries come to mind as they have a habit of placing a uniformed officer behind the president when he speaks in public. It’s as if the military is looking over the president’s shoulder making sure that he stays in-line. Personally, I find it a little creepy.

I believe that the United States, as well as other nations, should strive to be above that sort of image. The President doesn’t need a Marine standing there opening the door for him every time he leaves the office. I’m certain that the Corps could better utilize the young Marine in another capacity. Is the Corps so awash with highly trained Marines that it can afford to make them doormen? I don’t buy the security argument either as I believe that’s the Secret Service’s purview. I think the President can open his own doors as it’s not like his hands are full. Besides in makes the President appear less royal. You don’t see a Royal Marine opening the door at Number 10 do you?

Having been stationed in Washington DC I realize that the military does have a lot of legitimate ceremonial duties, but I contend that many of those associated with or around the White House are unnecessary and often send the wrong image to the world. Why must visiting heads of state be greeted by formations of flag-bearing soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines? I think that we’re past that now, and those guys and gals can be better used elsewhere. We are at war, aren't we? We spent a lot of time, energy and money training the finest uniformed men and women in the world, let’s allow them to do the job which they joined up for in the first place.

Executive Protection- The Low Profile Option

AK-47 magazines sit atop a wooden palette at a Baghdad neighborhood check point

In Executive or Close Protection there is a threat spectrum in which we operate. Low-threat jobs normally entail a single, unarmed agent who often spends more time facilitating than guarding. On the other end is the high-threat environment, which according to the American model, is normally the purview of the PSDs or Personal Security Detachments. Prevalent in Iraq and Afghanistan, PSDs operate with the philosophy that brute force and superior firepower will deter or defeat any attack on their client(s).

Aside from the threat spectrum, however, there is also a profile spectrum as well, one which many protection details fail to recognize or simply ignore. The profile spectrum is characterized by answering the question, how much or how little do you want the client and the protective detail to stand out and be recognized? Many American details lean toward the high-profile end of the continuum as exampled by US Secret Service operations, high-risk PSDs, the entertainment or sports industry where protection is a fashion accessory. When watching these operations its clear who the clients are or at least who the members of the detail are and what they are doing.

Now give some thought to the opposite end of the profile spectrum, low-profile or 'covert protection'. For me, this is where the art of close protection lies; in the game of deception, and subterfuge that securely moves the client around without ever giving anything away. Security comes from remaining hidden, obscured, not drawing attention to yourself or the client. There’s no need for flashy SUVs, sunglasses, or earpieces. It’s all done in plan sight and no one is ever the wiser for it.

The British teams are very good at low-profile operations, using tactics and techniques developed in Northern Ireland by their Special Forces during the “troubles”. I for one believe this explains why there are proportionally so many British protective details in the world compared to pure American teams. The Americans practice what they’re taught in the various executive protection schools. Very few, and I know of really none, have an emphasis on teaching low-profile or 'covert protection', as most of their classes are derived from official U.S. Government doctrine developed by the Secret Service, Diplomatic Security Service, the Department of Defense, etc…

Having said that, care must be given not to confuse the difference between low-risk and low-profile. Protective details can conduct low-profile operations across the entire risk spectrum as evidenced in Northern Ireland, some of the current British-based details, and very specialized American details in Iraq and Afghanistan. Similarly high-profile operations can be conducted in low-risk environments, which is often the biggest mistake made by new operators.

Finally, protection should either be one or the other; high-profile or low-profile. Do not try to meet in the middle somewhere. All that achieves is maximizing the weaknesses of both doctrines without ever achieving any of their strengths.

It's Not Just Sandwiches

Little Iraqi boy walks along a dirt street

My Scottish partner mistakenly left his sandwich and a bottled Starbucks iced-coffee in the car after returning from a task this afternoon. He went back a few minutes later to look for it and it was gone, obviously taken from the car by our Arab security drivers who are tasked with cleaning out the vehicles. Upon questioning the two drivers he got a resounding, “We haven’t seen your lunch nor the coffee”. A lecture ensued about the importance for westerners to be able to get the truth when asking questions. This certainly isn't the first time the drivers heard this.

Soon after, one of the drivers showed up with the missing the lunch and coffee stating that he found them in the Driver’s Room. “Dun’no how they it got there.”

The “take away” here is that two 40+ year old men have to play this little kindergarten game about telling the truth while at the same time saving face. My friend, who’s been kicking around the Arab world for years, is telling me that this happens on all levels, not just with sandwiches. Iran’s Ahmadinejad (technically not Arab) is doing it right now with the IAEA, Saddam Hussein did it with the United Nations, Hamas did it with Jimmy Carter. Lying to save face is endemic within the Arab culture. I realize that sounds terribly racist, but it's true and Arabs will be the first to tell you so. For my part, sadly I have to question everything that I’m being told by the guys whose hands I often have to put my life into. It makes for some very frustrating moments.

Fighting Through The Rough Patches

Iraqi boy heads his soccer ball down the street

I’ve learned that you need to struggle to make progress. I have several skills that I work hard at to become proficient, it’s just my competitive nature. Some days things come easy and effortless, other’s everything is a battle, and it seems as if I’m regressing instead of becoming more adept. You can apply this to almost everything that we strive to be better at, it’s part of the human endeavor.

I believe that it’s those times when we have to fight through the rough patches that we make the most progress. If, on the other hand, our practice is easy and effortless how are we really learning anything? Sure it feels good and marks the progress that we’ve made, but I question the value of effortless practice. I try to look at those days when it’s hard and takes effort as rare gifts, as those are the true opportunities for achievement and progress in whatever you strive to be better at. Having a bad day? Perfect!

What's Not To LIke?

Iraqi woman stares into the camera. She's not about to smile.

After banging around this country for over a year I’ve just now come to the conclusion that Iraqis do not like us, not at all. I know that it’s hard to fathom, what’s not to like? Westerners in general, and Americans specifically, are happy, jovial, albeit culturally insensitive people that are here to rebuild their country. Yes, all of that is true, but in the eyes of the average Iraqi we were the ones that broke it in the first place. In the words of retired General Colin Powell, “… you break it, you own it”. To be truthful, our “ownership” has not been all that good.

At best the Iraqis tolerate us simply because we’re slowly making infrastructure improvements, we’re the only game in town at the moment, we employ a lot of them, and not having us here right now would be exponentially worse. At worst, they want to blow us up, and speed off to paradise.

The Iraqi people that I come in daily contact with have worked for years alongside westerners, and still there’s an undercurrent of disdain, or maybe more accurately, disapproval. They don't understand the western culture and simply try to exist alongside it while maintaining some semblance of their own cultural and religious identity.

In the meantime we are working to make the best of the situation at hand because that’s really all we have. In the end we rely heavily on one another and working friendships are formed, but if conditions were better I believe they would just as soon see us off to the airport with a hardy “thank Allah those idiots are gone”.

N1452

Sitting on the BIAP tarmac, well off to the side is an all white Airbus A300 B4 with the letters 'DHL' hastily painted over yet still visible through the layers of dust. The only lettering untouched is the infamous tail number N1452, identifying this aircraft as the DHL Airbus that was struck by an insurgent surface to air missile shortly after taking off from the Baghdad Airport in November of 2003.


The Airbus sits in the baking sun and dust; it’s undercarriage home to dozens of pigeons as evidenced by the carpet of droppings covering the concrete below the wheel wells. Both engines have been removed and all signs of damage from the missile have been apparently repaired. The tires of the famous aircraft are well flat indicating that it has not moved for quite some time. The cockpit windows are caked with thick dust and offer no relief to the curious. Today the Airbus is little better than a huge shade tree for those that are out on the Baghdad tarmac for other reasons, trying to avoid the 130+ degree heat. It was fun, nonetheless to explore a piece of recent aviation history.

Half-Security

Shooting at the airport

We brought a news crew into the Baghdad International Airport (BIAP) this morning. After several days of securing permissions from the Transportation Minister, the Civil Aviation Administration, Iraqi Airways and the airport security contractor we were finally allowed to do the story on Iraqi Airways.

The entertaining part of this was just how many people came up to us and told us that we couldn’t film or take photos in the airport. We were surrounded by representatives of all of those organizations, and still the Iraqi Police, Iraqi Customs, KBR, and the security company still thought it necessary to inform us that we couldn’t take pictures. It seemed like the new national sport, telling the media it couldn’t film inside the airport.

One over-eager, low-level, security contractor informed our cameraman that he was going to have to review our tape for approval. You want to upset a cameraman? Tell him that you want to have his tape. A good cameraman is well-prepared for that eventuality.

This is a case of what I call “half-security”, in other words applying restrictive measures in the name of security because it seems like a good idea; security measures in the absence of common sense. What are we going to capture on film that everyone sitting around the terminal already cannot see for themselves? Are the fifty new KBR employees just in from the States, marching past the camera, somehow in disguise? Everyone knows who they are; they all have little red KBR ID card-holders around their neck so that they can identify themselves!

My other favorite is cell phones. Every security checkpoint that we pass through the “checkers” want us to remove the battery from your cell phone, lest we detonate a car bomb with it. Meanwhile they neglect to open the trunk of our car and search for the mystery explosives or completely overlook the Motorola radio hanging from our hips. It simply sounds like a good idea to remove the cell phone batteries but is devoid of any common sense or reason.

“Half security” is the case with almost every protective measure that you come across in Baghdad. Security is a sport here, played well by a few, but for the majority, they’re doing just that… playing.

Don't Give 'Em An Inch!

Writing on a concrete blast wall with plastic flowers in the foreground.

We dropped some of the media guys off at the Baghdad International Airport (BIAP) yesterday morning. As is normal with the airport there was a long line of people waiting to be screened by security just to get into the terminal building.

As we’re wrestling with the vast amount of bags that the media habitually travel with, loading them up onto the handcarts that are available, the line continues to grow behind us. In front of us are almost one hundred people destine to wait for an hour before they can get screened, and to our rear is a middle-aged lady with a handcart stacked with luggage. She pushes the cart right into the ankles of the westerner in front of her; hard and deliberate, as if she were trying to push her way through him.

I’ve seen this happen before in other Arab airports and just wrote it off to a mistake or not paying attention. That’s not the case, she did it again, this time harder, and I reached out and grabbed her cart and yanked it back towards her. The look she gave me was priceless, as if I had somehow committed some grievous sin against humanity.

Politeness and courtesy are seen as a weakness in the Arab culture, even among women and especially if there’s a westerner involved. For her to stand and wait for us to load our handcart was weakness to her, and she was having none of it. The same attitude manifests itself with drivers and pedestrians on the street as well. No one will yield an inch and you are forced to fight your way through lines and traffic jams to make any progress.

I’ve spent a great deal of my life assimilating into other cultures, and have made it a point to study them and achieve a better understanding. The Arab culture remains a complete enigma to me, and I don’t think that I will ever even begin to comprehend it.

More Cultural Tidbits

Young Iraqi soccer player

Here’s a little stumbling block westerners have when trying to work within the Arab culture; Arabs lie. At first I thought that was a terribly racist observation until someone pointed out that it’s in the Qur’an. Muslims, not only have permission, but rather have a duty to lie to non-believers; it’s called, “taqiyya”. Wrap your head around that little tidbit.

When talking to the throngs of Iraqis and other Arabs that we have working for us it’s all but impossible to get a straight, reliable answer to your question. At a minimum you will receive a gross exaggeration, but more likely you will be told a bold-faced lie with no remorse or compunction whatsoever. You will get whatever story, exaggeration, lie or fabrication which will save the most face and honor with the person you are speaking with.

Here’s another favorite of mine; "honor killing". True story as reported by a Jordanian newspaper (see above). Young Muslim wife is married to her husband who is “pimping her out” to his friends to perform sexual acts for them. The wife can’t take it anymore and runs home to her father. The father, injured by the insult that his daughter left her husband, is therefore forced to murder his own daughter to restore his honor. He does so by wrapping her in bare copper wire and plugging it into the household outlet and walking away for 15 minutes.

My final favorite, and another true story, "blood money". A man owns a motorcycle and sells it in good faith to his friend. The friend promptly goes out and kills himself on the motorcycle because he’s never even ridden one before, Inshala. The tribe of the dead motorcyclist then demands some thousands of dollars from the man who sold him the bike simply because if he never sold his friend the motorcycle the friend would still be alive. Failure to pay the blood money results in the tribe killing the man in order to restore its collective honor.

Rip Your Heart Out

A 10-year old boy pipes at his mother's grave. The tune he's playing is a piobaireachd known as Glengarry's Lament.

Maai

Old broom leans against a tree along a dusty Baghdad neighborhood street.

There’s a concept in Japanese martial arts called, “Maai”, and it has to do with the distance between yourself and your opponent, in other words, how far away can I be where I can attack him, but he can’t attack me? It’s much more complicated than simply distance; it takes into account the size of participants, length of weapons, the terrain, and even the mental state of the opponents. Complicated stuff, but then again it’s Japanese.

Standing in the Green Zone Post Exchange (PX) today I saw a young PSD that could use a little attention to maai. Keep in mind that the PX is considered to be very secure as it’s located behind several layers of security, safe to the point where I would have no problem letting my 4-year old son run around. The three-man PSD was looking after two junior diplomats from one of the western embassies as they attempted to do their shopping. All “kitted out” with radios, ballistic vests, ear pieces, knives, pistols, sun glasses, 5.11 pants and matching polo shirts the team remained within feet of it’s client as they walked up and down the isles.

This is the one huge mistake that young protectors always make. I know, because I used to do it myself, and it’s so obvious to those that have experience working close protection. Give your client some space!! You’re in the PX, there is no threat, give them some distance and privacy to do what they need to do, know your maai.

I’ve never had a client tell me to get closer to him or her, but I’ve heard hundreds of clients complain that their detail is “all over them”. It's the #1 client criticism. If you’re working close protection you have to be realistic about the threat and balance that with your client’s needs. Pay attention to maai, how close do you really need to be given the realistic threat to your client?

Live Well

A rose prospers in the Baghdad rain.

I’ve always strived to lead a remarkable life, one that when I look back on several years from now, bed-ridden in a nursing home, that I will be proud of. My greatest fear has always been reaching that point in my life and suddenly realizing that I did nothing; that I wasted my time given to me on this earth.

The challenge for me has always been leaping from the open ramp of the C-130, standing on the start line of an Ironman triathlon, or taking that first step on a long and epic journey. It’s hard to break out of the comfort and safety of ‘normalcy’ and throw yourself into the void. In the end, however, I've always looked back with pride knowing that I did the right thing and accomplished the ‘remarkable’, one step further away from the dreaded mundane and boring.

Of course everything is not without consequences. Epic journeys take me away from my family, and being a good father and husband. Spending forever in a pool, on a bike, or in some sort of course is one more moment that I can’t be with my sons, teaching them how to lead their own remarkable lives.

The ‘remarkable’ is not how many races we’ve run, mountains we’ve climbed, or continents we’ve trekked across. It’s how we choose to live each and every moment of our lives. To live and love with honor and compassion is every bit as remarkable as climbing the highest peak. Again, in the end, it’s just you in the rocking chair, and it’s only you who will be able to look back and judge your life’s accomplishments. Live well.

Quick Cultural Rant

We spent the better part of the day today driving around the city of Baghdad on various tasks. My Scottish partner was commenting that the nature of the Arab culture is so terribly fatalist. You can see this simply by they way that they drive; blasting through intersections, cutting off everyone else on the road, no regard what so ever for traffic laws or even norms. It’s as if no one else exists but them, as if they don't care what happens to them or anybody else.

We remarked that courtesy and politeness in this culture are seen as weakness, and that if given the slightest opportunity an Arab driver will put his and your life in danger just to pull his car in front of yours. It’s simply amazing to watch, and you can almost count on an Arab driver doing something absolutely ludicrous, it’s inevitable. All of that just makes our job all the more difficult as we spend a lot of time wondering. "what's the stupidest thing that driver in front of us could do right now?"

Finally it was one of those moments that I wish I had my camera. We came up behind a BMW on the highway leaving the Baghdad airport heading for the city. Across the two bucket seats in the front were four Iraqi men, in the back were crammed another four, and to cap it off there were four sitting in the trunk facing rearward with their feet dangling off the bumper. A Kodak moment for sure, but I make it a habit not to carry my camera while working. I’ve got other things I need to be looking at aside from photo opportunities.

Eat A Raisin

Trees bend along a windy highway on the way to Amman

My wife is the master of multi-tasking. She can bath our four-year old son, check email, chat with her grandparents on the phone, and clean up after dinner all without a second thought. Me, on the other hand, my quest is in the other direction. I’d like to be able to do one thing at a time.

How much of our lives are spent doing several things at once, our bodies are doing two things while our minds are working on two or three other separate challenges? I struggle to do just one thing. When it’s time to brush my teeth, I’m only brushing my teeth. When it’s time to prepare dinner, I want to do just that, nothing else. I am working to focus on the task at hand, no matter how small or mundane.

Here’s an exercise. Eat a single raisin. The catch is that you must take 15 minutes to do so, and that’s all you get to do for the entire time period. Experience the raisin; let it settle in your mouth. Feel the texture of the dry skin with your tongue, taste the initial subtle flavor. For 15 minutes let the raisin dissolve away until there is no hint of it’s flavor in your mouth, notice the subtle changes in flavor, smell, and texture as the raisin transforms and eventually disappears.

Once the 15 minutes are up, you will see how much if life really just passes us by without ever tasting it.

Primordial Spacemen

I watched a CNN story this morning about the beginning of life being reported as originating from “space” and not “Earth”. Aren’t they one in the same? Isn’t Earth and “space” part of the whole? How can they be separate?

The reporter mentioned that life could have originated in primordial ooze rather than coming from “space”. OK, where did the primordial ooze come from? Everything comes from space, how can it be any other way? In addition, everything returns to space as well. “Space” is a modern day term for what some people refer to as the Great Void. You, me, the Big Mac that you just ate, your shinny new car, they all come from the same place, and in the end they return there just as quickly. It is all just “stuff”; stuff without an identity that we humans need to place on it. It takes a form, we define it based on our misguided understanding of the universe, and then the stuff changes once again. It’s not hard to understand we see it every day, in everything that we do. My favorite example is the water flowing from your kitchen faucet. One moment its clear, pure, and refreshing, and 10 inches later when it hits the drain its now sewage; vile, diseased, and toxic. It makes me laugh how the human mind works.

PSDs Behaving Badly

My disdain for many of the Western Personal Security Detachments (PSDs) is well-documented in this blog. While I understand their job is difficult and infinitely dangerous I believe that their ranks, the guys behind the automatic weapons, are swollen with Walter Middy types, e.g., way under-qualified, under-trained, scared to death, pretending to be someone that they're not, and praying that they don't get killed in the process.

As I stated above, PSD work is dangerous, but in all honesty they bring most of that danger on themselves by the way they drive and comport themselves. The above now-infamous video is from one PSD company, and will give a viewer a good sense as to what I'm talking about. The footage is shot from the rear vehicles of the convoys, who's job it is to protect the leading vehicles from a rearward attack or at least to provide early warning.

In almost every example it's obvious that the roads are crowded as is the norm on most Iraqi highways. The approaching vehicles are hundreds of meters away from the rear of the convoy and pose no overt threat but are engaged nonetheless by the rear gunner. While I can't say for certain, I'm fairly sure that people died or were severely injured as a result of these actions. The people responsible for this should be in an Iraqi jail right now. There's absolutely no excuse for this; it's murder plain and simple.