To U.S. forces, Saddam's hometown is Dodge City
By Gregg Zoroya, USA TODAY
TIKRIT, Iraq — Standing sentry at a bank, Army Staff Sgt. Jason Shields talks about his three kids and a wife back home who worries about him serving here in the hometown of Saddam Hussein.
As he chats, his eyes dart nervously from one passing vehicle to the next. "You never know when someone could start firing from one of those vehicles," Shields, 32, says. (Related gallery: Violence takes centerstage in Tikrit)
For U.S. soldiers posted here, these dusty streets are like Dodge City. Citizens rarely smile at them. Children throw stones and make obscene gestures. Guerrillas here have proved adept at using rocket-propelled grenades to down a helicopter and to kill a GI in a Bradley Fighting Vehicle; then they steal away without getting caught. Gunfights, rocket attacks and bombs have killed 10 Americans since early June.
Tikrit, a town of 30,000, was the soul of Saddam's regime. Today it is among the most anti-American of cities within the Sunni Triangle, a volatile region north of Baghdad where U.S. forces have come under punishing attacks. The deadliest was Sunday when a helicopter was shot down near Fallujah, killing 15 soldiers.
The violence in Tikrit can be traced directly to the hatred for all things American — and to the loyalty Tikritis feel toward Saddam. There have been reports of Saddam himself hiding in the area. Straddling a gentle bend in the Tigris River, the city is home to many former high-ranking officials, the aristocracy of Iraq. For Tikritis, the U.S.-led coalition's victory over Saddam was a fall from grace.
The elite of Saddam's intelligence and military forces was drawn from among Saddam's tribal and family brethren here. These people were, in turn, bestowed with gifts, privilege, prestige and generous incomes. Tikritis were guests at the sprawling presidential palace that still dominates the city center and now houses the 4th Infantry Division's headquarters. Any Mercedes or BMW bearing the white license plate of Salah ad Din, Tikrit's province, was once granted deference on Iraqi highways: no speeding tickets, no waiting in traffic.
The fruits of this favoritism are evident throughout Tikrit today in the lavishly appointed brick mansions. Homes with sweeping verandas, high-columned walkways and soaring Arab arches are offset by walled courtyards lush with date palms and olive trees.
"They were very generous because they were very rich," says Faleh Abdel Adim, referring to the Tikriti upper crust. He is one of many Egyptians who emigrated here for the work and money to be had under the regime. Adim, 45, now operates the Arab Leader Cafe. He jokes that he may soon change its name: "I'm calling it the Coalition Troops Cafe."
The city is awash in former members of Iraq's Republican Guard and security forces, most of them jobless now or underemployed and bitter.
Col. Jassim Hussein, a spokesman for the U.S.-appointed governor here, says 10,000 former military and security officers are in Tikrit and are a major security concern. "They can offer nothing to the city or the people," he says. "They just keep complaining."
Maj. Troy Smith, 39, executive officer of the 1st Brigade of the 4th Infantry Division, which patrols this region, estimates that 5% of the province's 230,000 people are Saddam loyalists.
'This is the liberation'
At the Arab Leader Cafe, former Army and intelligence officers wearing Arab headdresses and long shirts known as dishdashas gather to sip 7Up or tea from small glasses with cartoon images of Mickey and Minnie Mouse.
"This is the liberation; now we are playing cards," says former security officer Saad Naif Ali, 52, with a sly grin.
"They (Americans) have been very helpful in the rehabilitation of some of the schools," says Hakem Ali, another player at the table and a former major in Saddam's intelligence service. "The problem is that when they are attacked, they turn and fire everywhere, being very wild just like a wild tiger."
But Tikrit is a dangerous place for U.S. troops. One of the latest ambush victims — Army Spc. Donald Wheeler, 22, of Concord, Mich. — was killed Oct. 13 by a rocket-propelled grenade while standing in the hatch of a Bradley Fighting Vehicle down the street.
Adim says that he knows Tikritis are angry, but that attacking U.S. troops makes matters worse. "Why was he killed?" Adim says of Wheeler. "He was only a soldier, and he was just following orders."
Americans are planning to reduce U.S. troop levels in the northern city of Mosul. In much of southern Iraq, security responsibilities have been turned over to multinational forces. But there are no plans now to withdraw the roughly 4,000 troops in the Tikrit area. The volatility of Tikrit and central Iraq still tie down large numbers of U.S. troops.
American forces are using a carrot-and-stick approach here. The coalition has sunk $2 million into public works here and in the surrounding province to foster goodwill.
Nevertheless, guerrilla fighting has persisted, winning grudging respect from Americans, who point out that insurgents are launching coordinated attacks using small arms and rocket-propelled grenades. Their mortar fire has been effective, Americans say. And the insurgents have a rudimentary means of communicating with and commanding their forces.
"The enemy is not defeated," declared a recent 1st Brigade military briefing update in Tikrit. The American response has been a harsh crackdown using nighttime raids, searches and arrests that officers admit are heavy-handed.
Smith, the brigade executive officer, makes plain that although building ties with the people of Tikrit is good, defeating the guerrillas would be better.
"Do we want to win the hearts and the minds of the people?" he asks. "We want a secure environment. That's what we want."
'Easy ... to create enemies'
The result is a little like throwing kerosene on a fire. "It's an easy task to create enemies. The Americans are creating enemies in the thousands and free of charge," says Sheik Khalid Amin, 42, a former member of the Iraqi National Assembly and a tribal leader.
It is no surprise that Saddam might find sanctuary here. "He will find a welcome for one simple fact," Amin says. "He is an Iraqi, and because of tribal tradition, if he asks, he will find a shelter."
Hatim Amin, 45, Khalid's half brother, holds his hand over his chest and glares. "He is in our hearts," he says of Saddam.
Saddam was born in the small village of Owja, just south of Tikrit, on April 28, 1937. He grew up in the city, selling watermelons to train passengers, much as vendors today market the region's famously luscious melons along the highway.
Tikrit was traditionally viewed as Iraq's gateway to the north — to Kirkuk, Mosul and the Turkish border. But today it is better known as the northern tip of the Sunni Triangle. The Sunnis, an Islamic sect of which Saddam was a member, dominated Iraq, though the majority of Iraqis are Shiite Muslims.
Complaining about Americans
In the meeting hall of the Amin family mansion, where passages from the Koran and outsized photos of family patriarchs hang on the walls, Khalid Amin and clan members stab with forks at dripping hunks of cantaloupe piled high on silver platters. They complain bitterly about the Americans.
"This is my home. This is my great room. Look how big it is," he says. "But I don't know when I might be humiliated by the Americans here. You are in your bed with your wife, (and) they open the door and they just rush in."
He has other grievances. The curfew in town is too restrictive. Coalition efforts to rid the new authorities of members of Saddam's Baath Party have drained schools of teachers; many had belonged to the party, as had a disproportionate number of Tikritis.
The demolition of captured munitions regularly shatters windows, shakes walls and brings debris raining from the sky, Amin says. He wags his head. "The Americans always want to achieve chaos in this country."
The tribal leader's views are echoed across the city. At the perfume store downtown, sellers complain that business has dropped off because many wealthy clients have lost sources of income. Business is booming at the Happy Panda ice cream shop, where American troops came in the steaming summer for a twirled scoop. But the owner, who declined to give his name, says he hasn't seen Americans for a week — and it's good riddance.
And at Tikrit University, renowned for its engineering and science curriculum, well-heeled children of the city's elite long for the days of Saddam. "I don't see anything better," says sophomore Mais Kamal, 19, her tone clipped and impatient. "So I would go with the past regime."
"The Iraqi temperament is hot-tempered," says classmate Khalid Walid al-Tikriti, 22, a mechanical engineering student. "It will not tolerate too much humiliation or provocation."
Americans are sensitive to criticism. The 10 p.m. curfew was recently moved to 11 p.m. and was relaxed further last week to allow Iraqis to celebrate the Islamic holy month of Ramadan..
The de-Baathification program will be modified under a plan administered by the Iraqi Governing Council. Review boards would allow rehiring of many teachers.
Throughout the province, the list of civic improvement projects funded by American taxpayers keeps growing. More than $1.1 million has been spent in Tikrit to improve schools, renovate police stations, repair sewage and water-treatment facilities and build a tuberculosis clinic. Plans are underway for a job center.
"It's baby steps," says Army Maj. Derek Jordan, 41, a reservist who otherwise works as a high school principal in Kansas City, Mo. Establishing close ties to the Tikrit community will take time, he says.
Recently, his soldiers tried to set up a neighborhood cleanup program at local schools. But almost no one showed up. He says he thinks resistance would be dampened if Americans killed or captured Saddam, removing any hope of turning back the clock.
"I thought the sons' deaths would have a major impact," Jordan says. "I think the daddy would be the coup de grâce."
Saddam's sons Uday and Qusay were killed by U.S. forces in July.
Since early June, American forces here have arrested nearly 1,400 people. In clashes, they have killed 28. Smith believes that while the number of Saddam loyalists in the area might be in the thousands, actual fighters are far fewer. Success in capturing or killing them may be having an effect.
Recently, rebels have relied less on direct attacks with small arms and more on roadside bombs detonated from a distance. Such a bomb claimed the latest casualty, an American GI killed on Monday.
"That suggests to us that there are less of them out there and they are less willing to get into a direct conflict," Smith says. "They can't afford to lose any more people."
But he is quick to qualify that hope. "Now, I could be proven wrong next week."
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