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Monday, Nov 9, 2009
From Najaf to Baghdad, I track the men who are menacing the U.S. occupation. They're young, desperate and dangerous -- and their ranks are growing.
Apr 27, 2004 | Before we could meet the members of an underground al-Sadr cell, we had to leave Najaf for Baghdad.
In the pitch darkness a week ago last Saturday, the al-Sadr militiaman on the rooftop near our hotel in Najaf began firing his heavy machine gun in long bursts toward the Najaf Sea. The gunfire went on for 10 minutes, until someone started shrieking on the street, and the gunner on the next rooftop suddenly gave up on his target. He could have been firing at cats, jumpy and scared because everyone expected the U.S. to attack the city that night. In the morning, we decided to stay another day at the An Najaf. The hotel had only two guests and the enormously fat owner, Abu Amir, slept in the lobby to keep out looters.
Then, on Sunday morning, the fighters of Muqtada al-Sadr suddenly disappeared. The night before, the shrine was crowded with young men in black uniforms brandishing rocket launchers and rifles, chanting their leader's name, Muqtada, Muqtada, Muqtada! They demonstrated on the spot where a mob loyal to al-Sadr hacked to death a rival cleric and another man. Now, as we walked out into the clear air, new people were streaming into the city, and the militiamen were gone. They walked down the road carrying green and black flags, the old men using sticks to help them along. In the procession, everyone moved with great dignity. Monday was the anniversary of Mohammed's death and the new people were pilgrims coming from as far away as Karbala. Najafis gave the pilgrims tea and bread. The simple shelters along the road were stocked with bottles of water. Outside town, one side of the highway was turned over for pilgrim traffic, mile after mile of devout families drifting down the road. The city was open again, the war turned off for a few days.
Al-Sadr told his militia to change out of their uniforms and hide their guns after the bloody clashes with the coalition, and they had followed orders. Unnerved by the absence of al-Sadr's men, I asked someone from Karbala who was sympathetic to the cleric, a former engineer, what happened to the al-Mehdi Army during the night. "You don't see them? There are armed men everywhere," he said. It is the nature of faith to believe so deeply in the invisible. But it wasn't true that the al-Mehdi Army was everywhere; most of the fighters were off the streets, their weapons hidden away. It seemed al-Sadr had made them vanish so the Karbala pilgrims wouldn't be alarmed by the spectacle of an armed camp at the center of Najaf. So on Sunday morning, only the bodyguard militiamen near al-Sadr's office carried weapons, while a few young men proudly carried green and black flags on the main road into town. When the pilgrims left, it would be back to the usual show of force.
The vanishing act of the fighters spoke of serious discipline, Muqtada sitting in council with the young sheiks at Kufa, the shieks then relaying the orders to regional commanders, the commanders taking the orders to the cell leaders. It was past time to see the part of the organization that is doing the actual fighting. Unlike in Najaf, the al-Mehdi Army in Baghdad is at least partially underground. The fighters didn't want to be recognized and arrested for attacking U.S. soldiers, which they do on a regular basis. We left Najaf Sunday afternoon for Baghdad to meet a contact who could introduce us to a leader of an al-Mehdi Army cell. It was carefully managed and authorized by the al-Sadr militia, who wanted to present the organization as strong and unified, and instructed its members to make contact with a few reporters.
When it happened, it happened quickly. A Sadr contact in Baghdad chose the time and place, a house that didn't belong to any of the men he was taking us to meet. "You would like to meet members of the al-Mehdi military?" I was asked. I explained that I would. My contact said he would try to arrange it with the sheiks.
