Eric in front of an MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicle. That big vehicle is pretty impressive!

Lakewood native Eric Smith has been serving in Iraq since May. In his first column for the Observer, he told of the flight into Iraq and described Camp Victory in Iraq. Now, he is out of Baghdad at a small base near Kirkuk, Sadaam Hussein’s former home town.

The flight in a pair of Blackhawk helicopters from our FOB (Forward Operating Base) to General Methaala’s house was an easy one. We were low enough that we could see peoples’ expressions as they looked up at us, but high enough that the noise and rotor wash didn’t bother the villagers. The pilots and door gunners bantered back and forth with us about which mess hall had the best food, who was the best unit to work with, and the advantages of being required by regulation to get plenty of sleep (the pilots, not us).

The Zaab River bisects our Area of Operations (AO) and we passed over it, green and muddy, languidly meandering to the Tigris River, as if it too was affected by the summer heat and didn’t want to move too fast. The land south of the Zaab River is highly irrigated and even in the midst of a drought, green with dusty corn and melons. North of the Zaab is desert; flat, yellow emptiness, interrupted by the occasional herdsman’s small home.

Dust devils spiraled up from the Earth, twisting and dancing across the desert and fields. From our vantage point we could see a dozen at a time and they appeared to me like sandy pillars holding up the hot blue sky.

We were going to a retired Iraqi General’s village for a visit. General Methaala is a well-respected man and strongly anti-insurgent. One of his sons and his brother had been killed by Al-Qaeda and he swore to his family that no one would get a funeral until Al-Qaeda was defeated. He further stipulated that were he to be killed by Al-Qaeda, he did not want a funeral until they were defeated. He wields a considerable amount of influence in the district, so we make every effort to cultivate a good relationship with him.

We landed in a cornfield just outside his home and were immediately mobbed by every child in the village. On the porch we took off our body armor and boots, greeted everyone with handshakes and hugs, and were welcomed into the house. General Methaala sat down at the end of a large sitting room, lined with couches. We arranged ourselves based on our rank and the Iraqis who were visiting did the same. The walls were adorned with photographs and plaques, all similar to the kind of thing that any professional officer accumulates over the course of his career. We drank tea and sweet coffee while making small talk about each other’s health, political developments, and the progress of the counterinsurgency.

Our flight over had alerted the tribal sheiks and as we talked they filtered in one by one, the order of their arrival based on their distance from General Methaala’s house. Sheik Rezim was all personality, barefoot, wearing a dish dasha and sunglasses over his sun-wrinkled face. He talked loudly, gestured emphatically, and entertained everyone with imitations of political leaders. Sheik Firquan was quiet, wearing slacks and a collared shirt, listening attentively to everything that was said without comment. Mullah Mejda’id, a portly fellow with a long scruffy beard, cheerfully passed along cultural tips to us. At the other end of the room, a collection of police chiefs, Iraqi Army officers, and relatives mingled and talked on their own.

When fighting a counterinsurgency, relationships with local leaders are far more important than sheer military power. All the artillery rounds in the world could not gain us the insight into the local area and cooperation that a social call of this sort could produce. After a few hours of talking, we were able to update our target lists and assisted the local police chief and Iraqi Army commander in updating his.

We moved into another building where a long table had been filled with food of all types. We ate standing and it was delicious. After extending compliments to his wife for preparing such a sumptuous meal, we put our kit back on and waded through the mob of children to the helicopters. The biggest challenge of the day was keeping the children from getting too close to the aircraft. Despite our waving and gesturing, a few boys, obviously trying to show off for their friends, ventured under the rotor wash and were knocked down as we lifted off. Looking behind us as the helicopters pulled themselves up into the hot air, we saw the boys stand up and get mobbed by their peers, the heroes of the hour.

The next day was quite different, a reconciliation day, an event we hold every two weeks. Insurgents are given an opportunity to come to our FOB, renounce terrorism, and pledge loyalty to the Government of Iraq. After a probationary period, we take them off our target lists.

The insurgency is a complex thing. Tribal conflicts, foreign fighters, religious fanatics, disenfranchised army officers, and plain old thugs commit atrocities every day against Coalition Forces and Iraqi citizens. Sorting them out from one another is a complex process, similar to what an organized crime task force does in a large American city.

In our area we deal with two homegrown insurgent groups that fall loosely along tribal lines, and Al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI). The farmers who populate the villages are poor, rarely educated above the primary level, and have a high rate of illiteracy. Attacks against us in the past were for monetary gain – simply someone paying a farmer $30 to shoot at the next convoy that came driving down the road. Another reason for an average citizen to attack us was out of a sense of honor. Perhaps Soldiers searching his home searched his wife or humbled him in front of his family. Putting an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) in the road satisfied this slight to his honor and after that one-time event he went back to his normal life.

These are the people we reconcile with. The ones who have committed assassinations, beheadings, war crimes, and crimes against humanity are not eligible.

So this morning, a long line of local citizens formed up on our FOB. We interviewed each one and then ushered them into a tent where they received a speech from the Iraqi Army Battalion Commander, the District Police Chief, and my Battalion Commander.

This morning’s group ran the gamut: old men, young men, laborers, shopkeepers, and government workers. Some we knew were guilty to the bone and others we had incidental reports implicating them. Of course, all of them were eager to tell us they loved the government and Coalition Forces and couldn’t imagine why they were invited to come. After a lot of talking and gesturing, the District Police Chief started to lose his patience, “You are here for your own good. Stop complaining!”

“I know that not all of you are terrorists or insurgents.” My Battalion Commander added, “Some of you are here because your name has been confused with someone else’s or perhaps your neighbor said something bad about you.”

This statement seemed to strike a chord. I could almost see every man in the tent lean back in his chair and ponder which of his neighbors gave his name to the police. The speeches and questions ended and the interviews began.

The ones who were here for the first time were sent home for two weeks to think about it. The ones who had come back a second time were enrolled into the program. If they don’t participate in violence for another 45 days, we will take them off our target lists.

This can be a hard event for our Soldiers. They see a man who shot at them a few weeks ago or set off an IED that injured one of their friends and privately they grumble. To their credit, however, when they are dealing with the reconcilers they are polite and courteous. On a professional level, we all know that when we treat the population with respect, we get attacked less, and everyone benefits in the long run. Deep down inside, on a personal level, sometimes it is still hard.Major Eric Smith is serving in Iraq with the 10th Mountain Division. The division’s home base is Ft. Drum in Watertown, New York where Major Smith lives with his wife Dina, three year old twins Kirsten and Skyler, and eight month old son Neil. The son of Pam and Tom Smith of Lakewood, Major Smith graduated from Lakewood High School in 1990 and was commissioned into the US Army after graduation from Dickinson College in Carlisle, PA.