If a week is a long time in politics, it's a lifetime in Baghdad. After a nightmarish journey butressed by hell at one end and heaven at the other, I'm back. I'm home. I almost never made it. After my last entry on Thursday, the situation in Baghdad deteriorated rapidly. For those of us on the ground, the lockdown was extended making us virtual prisoners in a cell of our own making. For the first time since the end of the war last year, an order was issued forcing us to move into hard shelters; all areas of the green zone outside of certain specified locations were declared no-go areas and perhaps of more concern to those of us left, the bombardment increased considerably. The mortars, the rockets, the gunfire which had previously been a night time 'annoyance' became a 24-hour a day threat with real implications for us all. Friday was to be my final day in Baghdad - I'd managed to book a flight out via Kuwait with British Airways for Sunday morning but first, I had to get there and that meant an RAF Hercules out of Baghdad from what was once Saddam International Airport - and that lay way outside of the green zone in an area which was seeing intense activity from insurgents against coaltion forces. Friday didn't inspire me with confidence - all RAF flights out of Baghdad had been cancelled due to the security situation and the airport had come under intense mortar bombardment. The road from the capital into the airport itself had become a graveyard of vehicles attacked by insurgents, littered with the burnt-out hulls of fuel tankers, overturned cars and trucks. It was a danger zone. Still, I'm an optimist - I could but hope. Midnight on Friday, packed and ready to depart, I took a walk onto the roof of what had been my home for the past 48 hours - a reinforced concrete shelter complex - for a final look across the skyline of the city I had come to love. We'd been under bombardment most of the evening, a litany of incoming mortar rounds battling it out with the occasional rocket blast and incessant small arms fire getting increasingly near to our location. It had been quiet for an hour or so. It was a balmy, peaceful evening and I was in conversation with two US Army soldiers in the watchtower atop our accommodation. Out of nowhere, the peace was shattered by a 'whooooosh' overhead, the unmistakable sound of an incoming rocket. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, knowing only that the missile was destined to land close by. I had no idea that it would be as close as it was. Just a nanosecond after hearing the rocket's flight, there was a brief, immeasurable moment of nothingness - and then the sky was rent by a noise the like of which I have never heard before. The impact site was no more than 100 yards from where I stood, looking transfixed at the incredible destruction wrought by the 157mm missile. I felt the blast wave hit me, lifting me from my feet and moments later, the noise - the most incredible, all-enveloping sound reached outwards, consuming everything in its path. There was nothing else, just the sound of the explosion - a palpable thing which threatened to seemingly extinguish every aspect of life within a two mile radius. And as suddenly as it had appeared, there was nothing - just a crater and some fiercely-burning flames at the site of impact, and the night silence punctuated by countless car alarms in the car park past my right shoulder, set off by the blast wave. No injuries, no fatalities. They tried again. Just seconds after the arrival of the first, another whoosh, another rocket inbound. It lands even closer than the last one - I see it hit the ground and in that spilt second, I know I'm going to die - there is no shelter, just open ground between me and the warhead. I tense, waiting for the inevitable... And wait. Nothing. It's a dud - it fails to explode. I slept fitfully that night. Early on Saturday morning, my close protection team arrived to take me to the airport only in place of the usual two car escort, I was now in a four car convoy. The guys were jumpy on the run out, constanly fingering their automatic weapons, their eyes scanning for threats, steering a path along the highway between the skeletal remains of vehicles attacked by RPGs and small arms fire. We reached the airport without incident but almost immediately came under fire from mortar rounds. One, two, three, four...the unmistakable 'whoosh...crump' as the rounds landed, 'walking' forwards, each impact closer than the one before and all within the grounds of the airport. Ten minutes, another four. Then a rocket. I look up and I see a cloud of thick, black smoke a klick or so along the road I've just travelled. I grab my D1 and take the image above - that cloud is the burning remains of another fuel convoy, attacked by insurgents on the road to Baghdad, just another few names to add to the increasing number of dead from the Coalition forces. It's hot. 92 degrees and not even mid day yet and as well as no hard shelter from the threat of incoming rounds, there's no shelter from the fierce desert sun. Two litres of water pass my lips in two hours. I watch first one, then another RAF Hercules take flight in the by now familiar tactical climb - ultra-low level followed immediately by a 75 degree angle of bank first one way, then the other, climbing a steep, banking spiral directly over the airport site to the final flight level, out of range of any surface to air missile, out of harm's way. We're called for our flight and walk to the Herc on the pan just as another takes off ahead of us - and it comes under attack almost immediately. Mortars - another four, and this time, they really are too close for comfort. And they find their target - a group a little away from us, wreaking havoc, destroying the lives of others like ourselves, sparing us, but not them. We board the aircraft just as the airport tannoy makes an all-points call for assistance for all Emergency Room and trauma team personnel onfield to report immediately. Casualties. The take off is the most tense period of my life to date - escape is so close, safety nearby but still just out of reach. For ten minutes immediately after leaving the ground, we are still a target, still within range of anything the insurgents want to throw at us. I'm drenched in sweat, it feels like our collective futures sit atop a knife edge. And suddenly, we're safe. Still the same people, the same aircraft. But now we're out of range and the cloudless skies permit a view of the peaceful, flat, featureless terrain of Iraq's desert far below us. I imagine the missiles aimed, but falling short of their mark like spent arrows fired from below, and it feels for the life of me like I've been chased out of the country by a barrage of fire snapping at my heels. I sleep fitfully in Kuwait that night, every distant sound becoming mortar or rocket fire in my semi-conscious mind. Sunday morning arrives for me just after midnight with a 3 am departure from the US Army base which has accomodated me since landing. For the first time in three weeks, the military machine hands me over to the more familar and desirable elements of civillian life as I'm left with my luggage and two other people at the ultra modern, deserted Kuwait International Airport with the promise of home a few short hours away. 07:00 and I'm first in line for the Club World check in at the BA desk. Five minutes and boarding card in hand, I'm through to departures and the blissful oasis of the Club World lounge. It all feels so unreal. The flight into Heathrow was as idyllic as the RAF flight out of the UK some three weeks previously had been hellish. BA's business class product is one of the best on the market and the less than half full cabin meant the each 'cocoon' was next to another, empty one. I pressed the button to slide the seat into its flat, bed position and grabbed a power nap, a few hours to help me face the rest of the day. The flight was effortless, the luxury, the service so incongruous with that which had been the norm for the past few days. And seven and a half hours after taking off, I saw England's green and pleasant land a few hundred feet beneath the aircraft. Home. Back to safety. Back to a view of Iraq filtered and presented by the TV news as against the uncluttered clarity of vision presented by my own eyes. My mind's a whirl. A million thoughts, a thousand feelings and a changed perspective which I need to, and will, write about here. A huge thank you to everyone at 20six who has commented, sent me emails or generally wished me well whilst I was away - your thoughts, your comments reached through the distance and the fog of the conflict to present a link to normality. Thank you.
PARTING SHOT
13.4.04 12:38
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(13.4.04 13:55) Woah. Blackrat. Sounds like things over there are much worse than they are really letting on here. Glad that you got home safely, your a lucky guy... I really don't know what else to say after reading something like that, just good to see you back in mother england safe. Hope you sleep better now your home. |
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(13.4.04 14:01) Welcome home, Rats. |
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(13.4.04 14:11) Wow. I'm speechless, really, and I didn't imagine things were that bad there, at least the news here doesn't give that impression. Glad you are back and safe at home. Wonderful post. MJ |
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(13.4.04 15:20) Tch PJ - haven't you been watching the news? It's bloody awful out there. Glad you made it back without undue hassle, Rats ..... |
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(13.4.04 15:21) Pog, I have seen the news but so much has been focused on Falujah that baghdad hasnt been mentioned so much... |
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(13.4.04 15:25) Peter: Sleeping like a baby now :-) Heather: Cheers! MJinBaires: It's interesting to be back and seeing how events in Iraq are being portrayed here. I suspect on the face of it that coalition casualties are being under reported at the press conferences and there are an awful number of incidents occuring which aren't making the news at all. I guess there's a limit to both the space and time which can be devoted to the matter of Iraq by western news agencies rather than any specific plan by the Coalition commanders to obfuscate. Thanks for the kind comments, and the sweetie. Pog: LOL. Thanks for the kind words. |
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(13.4.04 15:26) Bloody hell I could hardly breath reading that!! Glad you made it home in one piece & that you are now safely back with your family. What's next on the agenda? |
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(13.4.04 16:15) Very riveting stuff, Blackrat. I really enjoyed following your experiences in Iraq and I thank you for providing an important (and underreported) context to the events there. Glad that you made it safely to England! |
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(13.4.04 17:51) Glad to see you came through alright! When do you plan on returning? Tom |
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(13.4.04 20:18) Thank The Lord that you made it Blackrat - Phew! It is really terrible what is going on over there that is not reported over here. Thankyou very much for your posts while you were over there mate, it was really eye-opening. Take Care, Mark  )
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(14.4.04 11:17) Hjordan: The horizon currently shows...nothing. A couple of weeks of normality and time to contemplate, perhaps look at a short break with my wife. After that? Whatever next presents itself. ponnyj: Thanks for the kind words. Tom: Thanks for the sweetie, fella. To be honest, I'm sorely tended to return under my own steam as a genuine freelance, reporting from the front line - that's where the real news is, not in the rarified, unreal existence that is the Green Zone. First though, I need time to consider. Mark: Thanks for all of your kind comments and the link to my coverage of Iraq whilst I was away - much appreciated. |
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(14.4.04 11:45) Glad you're back safe and sound. It must feel good to be home - and god, your family must be hugely relieved. |
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Daisy / Website (14.4.04 12:59) Welcome home BR... I bet its seems more than unreal. I'm so so glad that you made it back. Bless you. D x x |
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jodi / Website (14.4.04 14:27) I just have to comment that I noticed you labeled my link 'off with the fairies'. That made me laugh because i frigging HATE fairies, pixies, nymphs ... all those mythical little people. So, you can be sure that if I see any fairies, that I'm taking a rolled-up newspaper at them. (It's just ironic because the other day I wrote a post about how much I hate fairies, and it's one of the most common search words used to get to my site.) |
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(14.4.04 14:40) Luda: Thanks, hon - yeah, they're pretty pleased, although my teenage daughter's already fed up with me telling her to tidy her room! Daisy: Thank you so much. Yes, it does seem a little unreal and I'm already feeling a little restless. Time to kick back and relax for a bit, I think. x Jodi: Sorry, hon, couldn't resist it! I'll have to come up with something a little more aposite, I think. Any suggestions? ;-) |
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Loody / Website (14.4.04 15:03) Your pictures are all so stunning. It's good to read that you're home safe. |
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(14.4.04 15:19) Incredible. Sounds very scary mister Rat. Really feel for the Iraqi people who are living through it. You should not have gone on that damn roof though. Didn't we all tell you to be careful! Make sure you write, write, write and get all that emotion and info out before your brain wipes out the rawness of it all. I'm sure fireworks night will never be the same for you! |
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(14.4.04 16:19) So glad that you made it home safely, Rat. The vividness of your writing made me almost think I knew what it would be like to be in such circumstances. Only my logic reminds me of the gulf between my imagination and your reality. x |
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(14.4.04 17:15) Welcome home Blackrat!! I'm glad to hear you made it back safe and sound. Thanks for providing us with such a vivid, uncensored glimpse of life in Iraq. |
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(14.4.04 17:22) Loody: Thank you, hon. Nice to see you over here - I'll be back over to your blog now I'm home and I've got some time on my hands. Roach: Yes, you did. And yes, it was stupid! I intend to commit all my thoughts and raw emotion to this blog just as soon as time permits. Thank you for the generous donation, too - much appreciated. Kisa: Thanks for the sweetie - and the terribly kind and eloquent words, too. Harmony: Thank you, hon. And it was my pleasure but if you think that was uncensored, you ain't seen nothing yet! |
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(15.4.04 02:28) I'm so glad you made it back safe and sound. I really do think you need to be debriefed if only to get you back to the reality of life at home. I have been working long hours and haven't got on here in ages so thanks so much for letting me know you made it back alright. I was getting seriously worried by now. It was so good to talk to you. Excellent blog and pictures as always. I promise I'll blog more now. I have news myself. And if that was even slightly censored, I dread to think of the things you've seen. |
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(15.4.04 07:29) I'm so glad you're back RATs, safe and sound. |
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(15.4.04 13:41) phew-wee xx |
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Jon / Website (15.4.04 13:48) Hello from VD! Glad you're back dude |
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(15.4.04 14:46) Welcome back fella. Glad you're still alive. Quick question (or two). Have you changed? Do you see the world in a different way? Does everything taste better? I ask for a reason. |
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(15.4.04 16:49) Glad to hear all is well and you made it back. I have to say Ive been thinking of you every time I heard about hostages being taken and people misisng. Would be curious to see your repsonse to Selfish. I think any change to the 'norm' makes you think seriously about how you fit into this world. Even small things do it for me. Nice one matey Ref |
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(15.4.04 19:18) Gadget: Cheers, fella. Rose: Thank you for the well wishes. Becs: Thank you! x Jon: Hello yourself, dude! Nice to see you over here - don't be a stranger, eh? Selfish: Cheers mate. Yes, I think I have changed. Hard to put my finger on it, but I'm finding it hard to adjust to normal everyday life and I'm seeing everything through different eyes, especially the whole Iraq thing. It's wiered being back here - normality seems a little bizarre as my mind is still back in Baghdad wrestling with what I saw and experienced. I'm still trying to make sense of what I feel about certain things but it's all coming together and when I get the chance, I'll blog more fully about how and why I've changed my opinions - and how I feel the experience has coloured my vision of life. refblog: Thanks fella, the best wishes and thoughts of so many have made all the difference - thank you. |
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(15.4.04 23:41) Glad you back, now certain family members can come down from clinging to the ceiling with your trip out. Happy you made it back safely. Use some common sense, debrief big fella. No one person is an island, and a little help is never a bad thing. Waiting eagerly to hear of what opinions changed and why.... |
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(16.4.04 10:38) AA: Thanks, hon. And tell him to get down now - I thought he gave up living on the ceiling in 1985 when that record dropped out the top 40! And a debrief? That's what freinds are for! Had a refreshingly honest welcome back from my editor and news ed yesterday over a couple of pints near the office and my mates have all been brilliant at bringing me back down to earth. I'm back - it's my peers who are still in country, and those Iraqis for whom there is no alternative that I feel most for. |
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jodi / Website (16.4.04 17:45) Well, the name of that site is 'so NOT cool', so why not use that?!? 
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(16.4.04 17:55) Jodi: Well, it's...a little obvious, isn't it? I like titles which are a little more lateral. But I like Jodi, and it's cool so how about that? x |
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(17.4.04 15:40) Very glad that you are back safely, and I wish you all the best for whatever is in the future. You really gave us the facts, warts and all. I was in the FIRST Gulf War - ADEN. This is never ever mentioned, but people died, and were buried in Silent Valley, and it was an awfully sad place, far from home, and bloody well forgotten. I sometimes read reports in the papers about what was going on, and sometimes, I'm sorry to say, it bore no semblence to the reality. I do not watch the news much, mainly because I do not like seeing female correspondents. The BBC lead the way in this, I'm sure. I think it is a slap in the chops to the people of Iraq, as the women there simply aren't seen. I believe in equality, oh yes, but I think other considerations come into play. Plus, the correspondents need protecting, which must be using valuable human resources. There was a debate on BBC Radio 2 about whether correspondents should get campaign medals, for goodness sake! Sorry, I have rambled on a bit there, but I really am very glad that you are home.
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(17.4.04 21:43) Welcome back!! I had no idea that it was that bad there. Glad you made it home safely. |
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(19.4.04 08:50) Aaornette: Thanks for the best wishes and for taking the time to comment - and the old adage that the first casualty of war is truth is as valid today as it's ever been so I don't doubt what you say about Aden. Female correspondents though have as valuable a role to play in war reporting as do us men and have proved themselves equal to the task time and again throughout recent conflicts. Women in Iraq's secular society are not 'hidden', but play an active part in the country's rebuilding holding many key portfolios in some of the CPA's newly created ministries. And I missed the debate on BBC2 but what a ridiculous idea. No correspondent is deployed to a war zone forcibly, or without choice - we travel knowing the risks to report, not take up arms - to even consider giving correspondents campaign medals is to devalue their currency to the soldiers whose loyal service merits their award. Wordsfromtheheart: Thank you! |
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(19.4.04 10:08) welcome back blackrat x
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(19.4.04 11:26) Pu: Thank you, hon! x |
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