Army Linguists face complex battlefield in Iraq

http://www.theday.com/eng/web/news/re.aspx?re=81428AC3-C90F-4B8A-8C6C-430ACB58860C

Army Linguists Face Complex Battlefield In Iraq

By LOS ANGELES TIMES
Published on 6/6/2005

Baghdad, Iraq — Tarik, a newly minted U.S. Army private first class, recalls his first challenge in Iraq: convincing fellow soldiers he wasn't a terrorist.

The 24-year-old native Moroccan was among the first graduates of a U.S. military program to provide Arabic-speaking “combat linguists” for American ground troops, one of the most precarious roles in the Iraq conflict.

During basic training at Fort Jackson, S.C., scores of foreign-born recruits are warned that their backgrounds make them targets for Iraqi extremists who view them as traitors. But nobody warns them about the Americans they're sent to assist.

Once in Iraq, some translators say, soldiers mock their Arabic surnames and accuse them of being “on the wrong side” of the conflict. Suspicious of his accent and dark features, some labeled Tarik a “hajji,” a term of respect for devout Muslims that many American soldiers use with disdain.

The Boston resident felt like he was fighting two wars. “I don't care what you think of me,” he recalled telling fellow soldiers after arriving in Baghdad last April. “I'm wearing this uniform. I'm just as much of an American soldier as you are.”

The Army calls them 09 Limas — military-speak for the linguist program. Answering recruitment ads, they volunteered to help fill the U.S. military's desperate need for speakers of Arabic, Persian, Pashtu, Kurdish and other languages, often returning to the homes of their ancestors to do the job.

When the first 09 Limas landed in Iraq last year, they immediately provided a cultural link between U.S. soldiers and everyday Iraqis.

On routine patrols in Baghdad or exploring possibly hostile desert towns, the 09 Limas fathom the Arab culture's wordless communication of hand and body gestures. On sweeps of suspected terrorists, they detect the often-subtle Arabic accents that can suggest a detainee's nationality and possible intent. They also help defuse misunderstandings. One interpreter determined that documents found during a recent Baghdad home search were not weapons-smuggling blueprints, as U.S. soldiers suspected, but harmless sewing patterns.

Although the need for native Arabic-speaking soldiers appears limitless in Iraq alone, only 65 recruits have graduated from interpreter training in the 18-month program. Officials plan to send 100 more in the next year.

“Without them,” an Army commander in Baghdad wrote in an e-mail, “my men and I could not do two-thirds of our mission.”

The 09 Limas are no strangers to the Middle East's political turmoil.

Their ranks include a former Iraqi Republican Guardsman who lost his taste for Saddam Hussein's regime and a Kurd whose brother was gassed by the former strongman, a onetime Lebanese freedom fighter who began waging war at age 12 and a Sudanese recruit whose brother was among 17 coalition workers kidnapped and killed by Iraqi insurgents in December.

The need for their skills is dire. U.S. troops still often rely on hand signals in communicating with Iraqis as entire combat brigades struggle to make do with only one native Arabic-speaking U.S. soldier.

The military has hired countless contract translators or local civilians with questionable English skills and often veiled political agendas. As a result, many U.S. soldiers feel more comfortable with Arabic translators from America with a knowledge of street slang and Army acronyms.

For security reasons, the Army has requested that 09 Limas training to go to Iraq remain anonymous. Only when they have arrived or returned from the war are their real first names used in this story.

U.S. officials insist that unlike domestic translators, 09 Limas are trained soldiers armed with automatic weapons and Kevlar vests who live and work full time with their assigned units.

Still, many recruits don't tell their parents they've gone to Iraq or even that they've enlisted. Most would worry too much.

“These translators are targets,” said American Translators Association spokesman Kevin Hendzel. “They're the military's lifeline in communicating with regular Iraqis. The insurgents are smart. They know this — they're going after them.”

Reasons vary why anyone would volunteer for such duty. Some 09 Limas received expedited citizenship in exchange for two years of active duty. Former cab drivers and car rental clerks hope their experience will lead to higher-paying jobs. Others volunteered to help out an adopted homeland they say has provided them a better life.

Many 09 Limas insist they weren't told they were going to Iraq. Tarik says his recruiter assured him a cushy desk job translating Al Jazeera, the Arabic TV network: “No way would I have joined to go to Iraq.”

Others complained the military did not deliver promised signing bonuses or foreign language proficiency pay. At night, hushed complaints were uttered in the darkened barracks. Some soldiers waged a hunger strike. Others wanted to talk to lawyers.

Lt. Carol Stahl, a trained Arabic-speaker, built the 09 Lima pilot program from the ground up. The former social studies teacher immediately became fiercely protective of her recruits.

For months, she and allies within the Pentagon battled Army bureaucracy to ensure the interpreters better pay and benefits. She worked to reduce the required time they spent in a war zone such as Iraq from two years to one, just like other soldiers.

Still, Stahl faced a mutiny. “Suddenly, all these people wanted to quit,”‘ she recalled. Nine recruits either quit or were dropped during the program's first year.

Those who remained struggled with military protocol: Rather than simply follow orders, many tried to explain mistakes to fuming drill sergeants.

Many clung to Arabic customs. One recruit said Muslim culture forbade him from fighting an older U.S. soldier. When Woolen barked at a recruit in his 30s, the man told the drill sergeant to respect his elders. “He said, “You will not talk to me in this fashion,' “ recalled Woolen, who is 27 but looks younger.

Woolen told the recruit: “I'm not your elder. I'm your superior.”

Officials enforce a “zero tolerance” rule for taunts about religion or God. Saeed, a 35-year-old Moroccan, recalls a motivational speech for the recruits in which a sergeant pledged, “We're going to go to Iraq and kill those guys who worship Allah.”

After Saeed sent a letter of complaint to his superiors, the sergeant was brought forward to apologize to all the 09 Limas. “There was an immediate response,” Saeed said. “That made me feel good.”

One day, as 09 Limas entered the mess hall, a civilian cook shouted “Here comes the Taliban!” Tarik and others converged on Stahl.

“You lied to us,” he recalled telling his commander. “We want out of here.”

The civilian cook was fired — even though the recruits later tried to spare the man's job. “We were risking so much to go to Iraq,” said Tarik. “Such insults made us wonder why we bothered.”

Slowly, however, the 09 Lima recruits bonded as a unit. So far, Stahl has attended five 09 Lima graduation ceremonies, where the new interpreters recite their military oaths in both English and Arabic. Many call her from Iraq to check on pay issues or just say hello.

But for those still at Fort Jackson, anxiety reigns as the dates for shipping off to Iraq loom closer.

“Everyone's afraid to die,” one native Moroccan says. “What terrifies me more is being tortured before they kill me.”

Tarik recalls being approached by a stranger one day at Baghdad city hall. “How many Iraqis have you killed today?” the man asked in Arabic.

“I told him: “I don't need your oil. I'm here to help. Sit down. Let's talk.' ”

The man shouted to others that Tarik was a traitor. “They wanted to kill me,” he said. After fellow soldiers hustled him to a waiting Humvee, Tarik says, he stayed away from city hall for months after a contract was issued on his life.

 

What can you do man? Racism is a b****, it sadly is an entrenched part of our history and still is a part of our society, even if people don't like to admit it.