-Caveat Lector-

From

This article was printed from the News&features

section of the Reno News & Review.

This article may be read online at:


http://www.newsreview.com/issues/reno/2002-10-10/news.asp


Copyright ©2002 Chico Community Publishing, Inc.


Printed on 10/22/2002 11:15:59 PM.



News story

Clean lies, dirty wars
As the United States continues to ponder war with Iraq, a military scientist and 
writer now
living in Reno recalls the truths she learned during a trip to post-Desert Storm Iraq.

By Patricia Axelrod


Courtesy Of The Desert Storm Think Tank
Civilian cars, trucks and buses--the vehicles used by those
fleeing Kuwait--were bombed by U.S. military forces on the Highway of Death.

Twenty-two months after Desert Storm, I was
finally on my way to Amman, Jordan, the gateway to Iraq. Somewhere over Europe, I
caught a glimpse of the Kafkaland to come when I heard that 50 black-market merchants
had been hanged there before cheering crowds of Iraqis. My introduction to the hell of 
Iraq
was complete when I learned that their bodies had been left hanging for the birds to 
peck
eyes from, rotting reminders of what happens to traitors who price necessities out of 
the
affordable range.It was October 1992. The first George Bush was in his second bid for 
the
presidency. Central to his campaign was the glorious Desert Storm victory. Desert 
Storm,
said the president, was a model war. A hundred thousand tons of explosive power had
been dropped on a nation one-third smaller than the state of Texas, from which Bush
hailed. The official line was only good news. America's new wonder weapons--depleted-
uranium-tipped munitions and precision-guided missiles--had destroyed the Iraqi army 
but
spared Iraqi civilians. The media in their enthusiasm had labeled Desert Storm a "clean
war."

The years I've spent as a weapons system analyst told me otherwise, as did Desert Storm
veterans I'd interviewed, who spoke of civilian slaughter and brought home photographs 
of
blackened corpses melted by depleted uranium--bodies nicknamed "crispy critters" by
soldiers. And so I set out to uncover the dirty lie.

After months of negotiation with the Iraqi government, I traveled to Iraq with a plan 
in
place to investigate Desert Storm bomb sites, interview survivors and review mortuary
records.

A decade has passed since my journey. Today, as I sit listening to President George W.
Bush speak of what he says is America's need to finish off what his father started, my
memories take shape and I find myself revisiting Iraq.

The Destruction

A few days after arriving in Iraq--and assuring officials that I was not an American 
spy--I
became a Desert Storm sightseer, complete with a botched guidebook entitled The
Destruction, courtesy of Takliff, the head of the Iraqi Press Center. Its ink wet from 
the
propaganda mill, The Destruction related the tale of Desert Storm according to Saddam
Hussein. One chapter enumerated thousands of civilian structures destroyed, while 
another
touted miraculously low civilian casualties. These numbers tallied so that two and two 
made
three. Defying basic arithmetic, The Destruction claimed "8,243 civilian martyrs and
injured."

Remembering the U.S. estimate of about 13,000 Iraqi civilians killed, this was a find 
that
prompted a series of questions: Why not inflate rather than deflate that total? Why 
not use
a natural propaganda tool and make the Allies look worse rather than better? How could 
it
be that the only thing Saddam Hussein and George Bush agreed upon was that so few had
died, when more than 10,000 tons of mostly U.S. explosive power had bombarded Iraq
non-stop for 43 days?

Hoping to gain Takliff's confidence, I held my silence. Assigned a car and Walid, a
driver/guard, I went along for the ride to the Desert Storm War Museum, where the 
curator
showed me The Destruction exhibited in pictures pasted next to missile shrapnel. Then, 
like
a warhorse with blinders, I was driven through the city, allowed to see only what Walid
permitted. Civilian bombing damage was strictly off limits. Barreling through Baghdad,
Walid pointed to bombed but reconstructed government factories and ministries as well 
as
restored power and water plants. Along the route I glimpsed flattened houses and
apartment buildings and asked Walid if this was bomb damage. "Yes," he answered, "but
nobody dies."

Finally, I was taken to the death-scented altar of the Ameriyya air raid shelter, 
where about
300 people, mostly women and children, had died. Hit head-on with a bunker-busting
bomb, the ruin was preserved as a shrine and tended by a grieving, black-haired, black-
dressed woman, her young face ravaged by the loss of her children. Accompanying her was
her only surviving child, a shell-shocked 10-year-old--old before his time.

Descending into the shelter, I picked my way through the rubble along haphazardly lit,
makeshift wooden planks until we came to a trail of burning candles that illuminated 
the
photographed faces of the killed. The woman paused to show me her children's pictures. 
At
the bottom, tears streaming, she peeled a darkened film from the wall. "Skin," she 
said,
gently cupping it in her hand. Taking my hand, she placed the morsel in my palm. I 
realized
she was right. Looking like skin peeled from a bad sunburn, distinguished by its 
swirls, it
was human skin that I held.

Above ground, we smoked together, and I felt that I'd failed to convey my sympathies 
for
her losses in her language until I slipped a ring from my finger onto hers. We bid 
tearful
goodbyes to each other approvingly noted by Walid, who clumsily patted my shoulder with
the comment that he "would tell Takliff that I had cried at Ameriyya."

In Baghdad

Left alone that night, I slipped out of my hotel and came to know Baghdad as an armed
funeral parlor where everyone was afraid, most of all Saddam Hussein. Fearing
assassination, the Iraqi president would send look-a-like stand-ins of the same age,
coloring and stature into crowds. They would stop bullets and knives meant for him. 
This is
the secret of his life as a despot.

Like Big Brother, he believes his own press, securing his omnipotence by order that 
every
home and business display his picture. No one speaks ill of him. Any dissenter risks 
death
or imprisonment, and his or her cellmates will be family and friends. Phones are 
tapped,
and Hussein's spies are well treated with payment of food and money.

The next day, Takliff set me free to roam the streets of Baghdad. Joining me to 
translate
was a young Iraqi reporter assigned to write the story of an American researcher
investigating the Iraqi death toll of Desert Storm. Walid sped around Baghdad until I 
told
him to stop at a teeming city block. Getting out, I posed questions to randomly 
selected
passersby, many of whom had come to their capital city from other parts of the country:
Where were you during the bombing of Desert Storm? Did family or friends die? How many
people do you think died? Do you think more or less than 9,000 civilians perished?

It was like opening a floodgate.

"Do you think we are the Roadrunner cartoon--you bomb us and we don't die?"

"There is no house safe from the bombs."

"Every night and day, the planes brought death."

"Even in a picture, the children scream when they see an airplane."

"Every person lost at least one from their family."

"More houses than I can count exploded."

All day long, in varying degrees of outrage and sadness, from neighborhood to
neighborhood, these were the answers I received.

People eager to talk to an American invited me to cafés and to their homes, calling in
neighbors to recall incidents of bombed bridges, marketplaces, bus stations, factories 
and
mosques where civilians died. Even the poorest served drinks and biscuits, along with
condemnation of the "American government- controlled press."

"How can you think only 9,000 died?" was also frequently asked.

Staring at ever-present portraits of Saddam Hussein, I was loath to say that the 
source of
my information was their government, not mine.

They told me also of starvation and deprivation, begging me, as though I had power to 
lift
the United Nations sanctions.

"Please don't talk against us. We are suffering too much. The babies have no milk.
Mothers' breasts dry up. There is no food for the children. No bread. People are dying 
every
day."

Word spread that an American researcher was investigating the death toll of Desert 
Storm,
and a self- described "friend of the truth" contacted me. Eluding Walid for a secret 
meeting,
I was surprised to find myself talking with a well-placed Hussein family member. In a
meeting so brief as to appear accidental, he told me, lips barely moving, of a civilian
casualty cover-up. He hypothesized that as many as 300,000 civilians died in the 
conflict.

By way of example, he pointed to the many Iraqi civilians who died at war's end, 
fleeing
Kuwait along what the Western press called "the highway of death."

Going on, my friend explained how, in the first days of the bombings, Iraqi television
announced a nightly civilian death toll, but when the "bodies mounted" the practice was
discontinued. Already the war was "not popular" and becoming less so when Iraq aligned
with its old enemy Iran to allow for the flight of Iraqi fighter jets to Iran. With 
the country
fresh from fighting and killing Iranians, this move "disgusted Iraq's citizens," he 
said.

"We did not know our angels from our demons. We were tired of dying and did not want
this war."


This photo, courtesy of the Desert Storm Think Tank, shows a victim of depleted uranium
tipped munitions, dubbed “Crispy Critters” by soldiers.

High civilian casualties became politically untenable for
my friend's illustrious relative. Fearing overthrow, with the Allied army approaching
Baghdad and battling a coup assisted by the dual-faced Iran, the beleaguered Hussein
plotted to save face and make the dead disappear.

Devil's deals

The U.S. military custom of burying dead enemies disposed of the problem, the man said,
when "thousands of Bedouins and other families were buried side by side with warriors 
in
mass graves around Iraq." Fire, as well as inadequate and decentralized record keeping,
assisted in making the dead vanish. Afterward, my friend explained, Iraqi officials 
planted
the idea of the "clean war" by furnishing American census-takers with the same casualty
count, 8,243, listed in The Destruction.

"It was a devil's deal," said the Hussein family member.

Ironically, a female census taker recounted and corrected the numbers listed in The
Destruction and, after discussion with the Iraqi Mission to the United Nations, 
announced
13,000 Iraqi civilians killed in Desert Storm.

A decade later, President George W. Bush and Secretary of State Colin Powell conspire 
to
make their own devil's deal to finish off what the elder President Bush started. As 
for the
civilian casualties of Desert Storm, former President Jimmy Carter has publicly stated 
that
"maybe more than 150,000 Iraqi [civilians] were killed in [the] massive bombing."

Powell, who directed Desert Storm as the head of America's armed forces, finds the 
whole
matter of civilian casualties simply inconvenient. "That's not really a number I'm 
terribly
interested in," he said.



Patricia Axelrod, who now lives in Reno, is the recipient of a John D. and Catherine T.
MacArthur Foundation Research and Writing Award for her work in weapons systems
analysis. Her work has received a Project Censored award, and she was a founding
member of the State of California Reserve Officers' Association Committee on Persian 
Gulf
War Illness and director of the Desert Storm Think Tank and Veterans' Advocate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A<>E<>R
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Forwarded as information only; I don't believe everything I read or send
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In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material is distributed without 
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profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving this type of 
information for
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"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth
shut."
--- Ernest Hemingway

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