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Today, I sat with a group of Iraqi Soldiers and had a conversation, while the television played music videos.  I had no idea that within the hours, I would be witness to the disciplary system for Iraqi Soldiers.

I understand that most Americans see Arabs as one in the same, but believe me, it is not so hard to decipher Egyptians from Iraqis and Saudis from Lebanese.  So as I caught up with the Soldiers’ personal lives, I noticed a young lady dancing in a music video.  Puzzled, I asked, “What country is she from?”

“Syrian,” one Soldier responded.

Another interjected, “No, no, his neighborhood,” pointing at the first Soldier, “from his same street.”

The first Soldier pushed the second in jest, as the first continued to laugh.

“I don’t understand.  Is she from Syria or Baghdad,” I asked.

The second Soldier laughing much harder now, a third interjected, “In America, you would probably point at her and say, ‘Yeah, she’s from my street!” proudly.”

“Of course, I would.  Why would acknowledge, if she came from my street.  Good for her.”

“No,” explained the third Soldier, “that girl brings shame to her entire neighborhood for dancing on television like that.”

I was about to ask if it was not shameful to watch the music videos with that logic, but then another video came on.  The first Soldier became wildly excited, “Now she is from my neighborhood on my street.”  All the Soldiers laughed and exchanged hi-fives.

Again, puzzled, I asked, “So she is Iraqi?  Wait, but why do you claim the girl that is dancing and singing in this video but not the dancing girl from the other video?  I do not understand at all.”

“Exactly,” explained the third Soldier, “the girl in the last video was just dancing, she is a gypsy.  This girl is from Baghdad, and her name is Dalli Hadad.  She sings and dances and she is very famous.”

“So she is not shameful because she not only dances, but also she sings and is popular.”

“Exactly,” the third Soldier responded with a smile and a high five.

“I really do not understand how that makes sense, but I do see how she is clearly an Iraqi, and the last girl was Syrian.”

Attention drew back to the videos, and I continued small talk with the Soldiers.  Another Soldier of the eight present picked up a rifle that looked like something out of a Hollywood sniper movie.  He moved toward me, as if he was going to show me the scope or another device on it, when suddenly, with a great smile and flickering eyes, he brought it to the ready position, aiming directly at my head.

Sitting on cot, enclosed in a room full of Iraqi Soldiers, with the barrel of a rifle perhaps a foot from me, I considered my options.  I elected to ignore the Soldier.

All the other Iraqi Soldiers in the room scolded the young Soldier, all of whom appeared to be between 18 and 20 years of age.  “What is wrong with you?”  “Put that rifle down!”  “That is not funny.”  “This is not game.”  “That is an American captain!”

After a lengthy 10 seconds or so, the Soldier brought the rifle down and attempted to show me his scope.  Again, I ignored the Soldier and continued with the small talk for about 40 minutes.

Departing from the room, my interpreter looked like a teapot ready to blow.  “Why did you let that Soldier point his weapon at you like that?”

“How much of a choice do you think that I had?”  As I walked to the Soldiers’ captain’s office, I continued, “It was a bad joke, and none of my options were good.”

I explained to the Iraqi officer what happened, requesting that he talk with the Soldier about safety and muzzle discipline.  The Iraqi captain immediately sent for the Soldier, who name I did not know and to whom I had not said one word.  The Soldier nervously arrived, conjuring memories of when my mother would say, “Come here.  Now turn around.”

Without looking up from his papers, the Iraqi officer calmly asked, “Did you point your weapon at this American captain?”

“There was no bullet in the chamber,” came the shaky reply.

The Iraqi officer put down his papers and leisurely walked toward the Soldier.  As the captain approached, he unleashed a storm of fury.  I felt ashamed for watching.  I adverted my eyes just as the Soldier looked over at me, his eyes saying, “I am so sorry.  I didn’t mean it.” 

After a few moments, I got up and left the room.  I returned after a short while, after the Soldier had been taken to jail with his uniform torn.  “I gave that Soldier the beating of his life, and he is fired after he has done his time in jail.  He is not a good Soldier, and I have had numerous problems with him in his short time here.  Thank you for bringing this problem to my attention.  I am sorry that it happened.”

We talked for a time about operations and about situations in the area.  All the while, I could not help but consider how differently captains of our two Armies operate.

The scene. Left to right: the third Soldier (black shirt), silent Soldier omitted in the story (white shirt), the second Soldier (orange shirt), the first Soldier (blue shirt), old Soldier on the bottom bunk.

Dalli Hadad, the popular Iraqi singer from Baghdad. She released this image for unlimited public use.