- I knew there was very little media coverage in Falluja,
and the entire city had been sealed and was suffering from collective punishment
in the form of no water or electricity for several days now. With only
two journalists there that I'd read and heard reports from, I felt pulled
to go and witness the atrocities that were surely being committed.
-
- With the help of some friends, we joined a small group
of internationals to ride a large bus there carrying a load of humanitarian
supplies, and with the hopes of bringing some of the wounded out prior
to the next American onslaught, which was due to kick off at any time now.
-
- Even leaving Baghdad now is dangerous. The military has
shut down the main highway between here and Jordan. The highway, even while
just outside Baghdad, is desolate and littered with destroyed fuel tanker
trucks -- their smoldering shells littered the highway. We rolled past
a large M-1 tank that was still burning under an overpass which had just
been hit by the resistance.
-
- At the first U.S. checkpoint the soldiers said they'd
been there for 30 hours straight. After being searched, we continued along
bumpy dirt roads, winding our way through parts of Abu Ghraib, steadily
but slowly making our way towards besieged Falluja. While we were passing
one of the small homes in Abu Ghraib, a small child yelled at the bus,
"We will be mujahedeen until we die!"
-
- We slowly worked our way back onto the highway. It was
strewn with smoking fuel tankers, destroyed military tanks and armored
personnel carriers, and a lorry that had been hit that was currently being
looted by a nearby village, people running to and from the highway carrying
away boxes. It was a scene of pure devastation, with barely any other cars
on the road.
-
- Once we turned off the highway, which the U.S. was perilously
holding onto, there was no U.S. military presence visible at all as we
were in mujahedeen-controlled territory. Our bus wound its way through
farm roads, and each time we passed someone they would yell, "God
bless you for going to Falluja!" Everyone we passed was flashing us
the victory sign, waving, and giving the thumbs-up.
-
- As we neared Falluja, there were groups of children on
the sides of the road handing out water and bread to people coming into
Falluja. They began literally throwing stacks of flat bread into the bus.
The fellowship and community spirit was unbelievable. Everyone was yelling
for us, cheering us on, groups speckled along the road.
-
- As we neared Falluja a huge mushroom caused by a large
U.S. bomb rose from the city. So much for the cease fire.
-
- The closer we got to the city, the more mujahedeen checkpoints
we passed
-
- -- at one, men with kefir around their faces holding
Kalashnikovs began shooting their guns in the air, showing their eagerness
to fight.
-
- The city itself was virtually empty, aside from groups
of mujahedeen standing on every other street corner. It was a city at war.
We rolled towards the one small clinic where we were to deliver our medical
supplies from INTERSOS, an Italian NGO. The small clinic is managed by
Mr. Maki Al-Nazzal, who was hired just 4 days ago to do so. He is not a
doctor.
-
- He hadn't slept much, along with all of the doctors at
the small clinic.
-
- It started with just three doctors, but since the Americans
bombed one of the hospitals, and were currently sniping people as they
attempted to enter/exit the main hospital, effectively there were only
2 small clinics treating all of Falluja. The other has been set up in a
car garage.
-
- As I was there, an endless stream of women and children
who'd been sniped by the Americans were being raced into the dirty clinic,
the cars speeding over the curb out front as their wailing family members
carried them in.
-
- One woman and small child had been shot through the neck
-- the woman was making breathy gurgling noises as the doctors frantically
worked on her amongst her muffled moaning.
-
- The small child, his eyes glazed and staring into space,
continually vomited as the doctors raced to save his life.
-
- After 30 minutes, it appeared as though neither of them
would survive.
-
- One victim of American aggression after another was brought
into the clinic, nearly all of them women and children.
-
- This scene continued, off and on, into the night as the
sniping continued.
-
- As evening approached the nearby mosque loudspeaker announced
that the mujahadeen had completely destroyed a U.S. convoy. Gunfire filled
the streets, along with jubilant yelling. As the mosque began blaring prayers,
the determination and confidence of the area was palpable.
-
- One small boy of 11, his face covered by a kefir and
toting around a Kalashnikov that was nearly as big as he was, patrolled
areas around the clinic, making sure they were secure. He was confident
and very eager for battle. I wondered how the U.S. soldiers would feel
about fighting an 11 year-old child? For the next day, on the way out of
Falluja, I saw several groups of children fighting as mujahedeen.
-
- After we delivered the aid, three of my friends agreed
to ride out on the one functioning ambulance for the clinic to retrieve
the wounded.
-
- Although the ambulance already had three bullet holes
from a U.S. sniper through the front windshield on the driver's side, having
westerners on board was the only hope that soldiers would allow them to
retrieve more wounded Iraqis.
-
- The previous driver was wounded when one of the sniper's
shots grazed his head.
-
- Bombs were heard sporadically exploding around the city,
along with random gunfire.
-
- It grew dark, so we ended up spending the night with
one of the local men who had filmed the atrocities. He showed us footage
of a dead baby who he claimed was torn from his mother's chest by Marines.
Other horrendous footage of slain Iraqis was shown to us as well.
-
- My entire time in Falluja there was the constant buzzing
of military drones.
-
- As we walked through the empty streets towards the house
where we would sleep, a plane flew over us and dropped several flares.
We ran for a nearby wall to hunker down, afraid it was dropping cluster
bombs. There had been reports of this, as two of the last victims that
arrived at the clinic were reported by the locals to have been hit by cluster
bombs -- they were horribly burned and their bodies shredded.
-
- It was a long night-between being sick from drinking
unfiltered water and the nagging concern of the full invasion beginning,
I didn't sleep.
-
- Each time I would begin to slip into sleep, a jet would
fly over and I wondered if the full scale bombing would commence. Meanwhile,
the drones continued to buzz throughout Falluja.
-
- The next morning we walked back to the clinic, and the
mujahedeen in the area were extremely edgy, expecting the invasion anytime.
They were taking up positions to fight. One of my friends who'd done another
ambulance run to collect two bodies said that a Marine she encountered
had told them to leave, because the military was about to use air support
to begin 'clearing the city.' One of the bodies they brought to the clinic
was that of an old man who was shot by a sniper outside of his home, while
his wife and children sat wailing inside.
-
- The family couldn't reach his body, for fear of being
sniped by the Americans themselves. His stiff body was carried into the
clinic with flies swarming above it.
-
- The already insane situation continued to degrade, and
by the time the wounded from the clinic were loaded onto our bus and we
prepared to leave, everyone felt the invasion was looming near. American
bombs continued to fall not far from us, and sporadic gunfire continued.
Jets were circling the outskirts of the city.
-
- We drove out, past loads of mujahedeen at their posts
along the streets.
-
- In a long line of vehicles loaded with families, we slowly
crept out of the embattled city, passing several military vehicles on the
outskirts town.
-
- When we took a wrong turn at one point and tried to go
down a road controlled by a different group of mujahedeen, we were promptly
surrounded by men cocking their weapons and aiming them at us. The doctors
and patients on board explained to them we were coming from Falluja and
on a humanitarian aid mission, so they let us go.
-
- The trip back to Baghdad was slow, but relatively uneventful.
We passed several more smoking shells of vehicles destroyed by the freedom
fighters; more fuel tankers, more military vehicles destroyed.
-
- What I can report from Falluja is that there is no ceasefire,
and apparently there never was. Iraqi women and children are being shot
by American snipers. Over 600 Iraqis have now been killed by American aggression,
and the residents have turned two football fields into graveyards. Ambulances
are being shot by the Americans. And now they are preparing to launch a
full-scale invasion of the city.
-
- All of which is occurring under the guise of catching
the people who killed the four Blackwater Security personnel and hung two
of their bodies from a bridge.
-
- April 13, 2004
-
-
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- Dahr Jamail is Baghdad correspondent for The NewStandard.
He is an Alaskan devoted to covering the untold stories from occupied Iraq.
You can help Dahr continue his crucial work in Iraq by making donations.
For more information or to donate to Dahr, visit http://newstandardnews.net/iraqdispatches.
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