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Soldiers hope helping Iraqis will bear fruit on battleground

JORFA AL-MELLEB, Iraq — Sara Hussein looked at Capt. Alan Hicks with her left eye. The right is clouded by toffee-brown scar tissue the size of a marble.

Three years ago, Sara injured the cornea while playing ball with her brother. Now, because of the scar tissue that developed, when she looks through that right eye it is as if she is looking through a bowl of milk.

BITA HONARVAR/Cox News Service (enlarge photo) Capt. Alan Hicks (right) speaks through an interpreter to Saleema Majad (in yellow dress) about medical treatment for her daughter. Sara Hussein (in red scarf), in Jorfa al-Melieb, Iraq. Hicks says Iraqis' attitudes toward U.S. troops are changing.

Hicks, an Army reservist from Birmingham, had visited the 12-year-old girl before and promised medical treatment for the bad eye.

"I thought maybe you forgot," said Saleema Majad, Sara's mother.

"We would never forget you," said Hicks, who works at the Alabama Organ Center at home. He told Majad to get her daughter's medical records so that Sara could be taken about 20 miles south to Baghdad to see ophthalmologists.

Majad agreed. When Hicks turned to leave, she shouted: "Don't forget us! I trust my God."

The promise, said Hicks, is crucial. He is intent on making good on it.

In this central Iraqi farming village of dusty mud huts near the Tigris River, not all residents have complete trust in U.S. soldiers. The military knows it must earn the cooperation of the people if it is to snuff out insurgent activity in the area and advance sorely needed reconstruction projects.

In Vietnam, it was described as the battle for hearts and minds. Almost four decades later in Iraq, American soldiers are waging the same kind of war, and they hope this time it will pay off, and soon.

From Camp Taji, American soldiers from various units regularly travel narrow dirt roads that run alongside canals or the river to reach villages and small towns.

The Georgia Army National Guard's 48th Brigade Combat Team has roughly 600 soldiers from the 1st Battalion, 118th Field Artillery Regiment stationed at Taji who patrol neighborhoods and provide security for these potentially dangerous missions into the surrounding farmlands.

Alpha Battery, based in Springfield, Ga., near Savannah, helps guard the main gate at Taji, through which hundreds of Iraqi workers pass daily. Three Paladin 155 mm howitzers sit facing the main highway. Four to six soldiers work in 12-hour shifts, ready to fire in the event of an insurgent attack.

Alpha soldiers, trained to move and shoot the Army's biggest guns, are naturally disappointed they are not able to utilize their specially honed skills more often. But they knew from the start that Iraq would be an unconventional war.

When the battalion trained at Fort Stewart and in California's Mojave Desert, they practiced precisely for the kind of humanitarian work they are doing at Jorfa al-Melleb.

"The more we get to do things like this, the more the people will warm up to us. They will be more willing to cooperate," said Spc. Charles Thompson, who serves in Alpha Company, 490th Civil Affairs Battalion. Last week, Thompson went out on his first patrol with Hicks.

Sanctions, war, looting and now grinding guerrilla activity have left Iraq's infrastructure in ruins. Basics such as clean water and electricity are daily worries for Iraq's citizenry.

In 2003, after the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, it was estimated that it would cost $55 billion to repair or replace Iraq's crumbling infrastructure. More than two years later, insecurity has thwarted many projects and the United States has diverted some of its pledged money to address insecurity.

Around Baghdad, the electricity is on for an average of just eight hours a day. Unless Iraqis have their own generators, they must suffer through sweltering summer temperatures. Surveys have found that only half the population has access to clean drinking water.

Poor quality of life can add to the frustration of Iraqis and lead to discontent with U.S. forces here.

"I really hope the Americans can help my village," said Khalid, a resident of Al Muzorfa, a majority Sunni village where Hicks' team is attempting to generate enough power to run four water pumps. He did not want to be fully identified because of possible reprisals against him or his family.

Khalid said he wants the Americans to stay as long as they make life better for his family.

Capt. Jason Belknap of the 1st Armored Division's 4th Battalion, 1st Field Artillery Regiment said it has been difficult to lure contractors into dangerous areas to complete projects.

"This area has done a 180 turnaround lately," Belknap said, crediting the U.S. security patrols and civil affairs missions. "But I still have contractors asking for huge amounts of money because of the risk."

Reminders of that risk lurk everywhere.

Graffiti outside Camp Taji on the main highway refers to improvised explosive devices, one of the biggest killers of U.S. soldiers in Iraq. "IEDs-R-us," it reads.

As Hicks' convoy headed toward Jorfa al-Melleb, news crackled over the Humvee radio about another roadside bomb attack.

Hicks forged ahead with the task at hand. At every stop, Iraqi children swarmed the incoming Humvees. They surrounded the Georgia soldiers who stood guard, asking them for candy, toys or even the watches off their wrists and the pens in their pockets.

Thompson and his buddies handed out dolls and Beanie Babies. The wanting among children with dry, dirty faces and shoeless feet was incessant.

"The way I look at it, these kids are the ones who have to deal with my kids one day," Thompson said.

Cpl. Armando Villegas, a homicide investigator for the Savannah-Chatham County Police Department, said the children weren't always so receptive but that "giving out dolls and candy puts them more at ease."

Villegas said he understood the hostility — some Iraqis view the troops as occupiers of their land. When children rush to him, though, he often thinks of his own three sons.

"My kids are lucky to be where they're at," Villegas said. "There's a whole lot of work to be done here."

In Jorfa al-Melleb, the only source of water for many families is from a nearby canal where cows, goats, sheep and chickens drink from the same stagnant, algae-laden pool the color of antifreeze. To get the water from the canal to the houses, families dig a hole and insert a plastic pipe for use as a siphon. When the water level in the canal drops, farmers like Abdullah Ahmad have no water in their homes.

Of the several villages that Hicks' team visited on this day, Jorfa al-Melleb was the worst.

For Thompson, a student at Georgia Southern University, the poor living conditions of ordinary Iraqis has been eye-opening.

"People here look to us for help," he said. "There are a lot of things we can do for them."

As the four-Humvee convoy left the village of al-Muzorfa, a little boy ran in front of Hicks' vehicle. The captain with the piercing blue eyes stepped out in full body armor to see what the problem was. The boy handed him three roses.

"I know we can't help everybody," Hicks said, reflecting later on the day's work, especially on the plight of Sara Hussein.

But, he said, attitudes are changing.

Hicks used to leave Sara's family with a handshake. Now, he said, "I get the close hug."

Moni Basu writes for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. E-mail: mbasu@ajc.com