![]() |
While the lawless Fallujah commands the West's imagination and attention, it is Ramadi where U.S. military officials believe a large part of the battle for Iraq will be won or lost.
The importance of Anbar province, of which Ramadi is the capital, can't be overstated: It is approximately the size of Wyoming, encompasses the highway linking Baghdad to Amman, and spans the borders with Saudi Arabia, Jordan and Syria. Ramadi is the city through which official Baghdad hopes to wedge itself into having influence over the province.
It is already starting out behind the game: Not a single member of the new interim Iraqi government hails from Anbar province, a fact that is not lost on local leaders.
Ramadi, with a population of about 400,000, is also home to a series of U.S. military bases, including 1 Marine Division headquarters and the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, a unit that has suffered one of the highest casualty rates in the post-war period.
In one surprise battle in April, after months of relative calm in Ramadi, a dozen Marines were killed in an ambush. The attack kicked off two days of intense fighting and opened a new chapter of life for U.S. troops there. They are attacked nearly every day, either with roadside explosives, rocket-propelled grenades, mortars or small arms fire.
More than 129 Marines have been killed in Anbar province since March. At least 30 of them died in Ramadi, at least 22 of them from a single 185-man company of the 2/4 battalion.
The mix of the enemy they are facing is similar to the one across the rest of Anbar, commanders and intelligence officials say: smugglers whose economic lines are getting severed by coalition patrols; tribal sheiks angry over their loss of power with the ouster of their patron Saddam Hussein; commuter insurgents from nearby Fallujah, frustrated over the dearth of American targets to attack there; jihadists of various nationalities who flock to Ramadi to get their war on; nationalists, who resent the occupation; citizens who lost friends or relatives in the war or post war and are seeking revenge; and mercenaries -- desperately poor Iraqis who have no hope of jobs in the shattered economy who get paid $50 or $100 to shoot at Americans.
What distinguishes the insurgency in Ramadi, however, is its military flavor. Prior to the war, it was home to Iraq's special forces. When the U.S.-led Coalition Provisional Authority disbanded the 400,000-strong Iraqi military, this is where many of the best-trained fighters came home to. Not surprisingly, fighting in Ramadi is considerably more coordinated and organized than elsewhere in Anbar province.
Take April 6, 2004. Seemingly out of nowhere, a Marine squad was pinned down during a routing patrol by between 60 and 100 insurgents in a coordinated attack. The unexpected battle claimed 10 Americans that day and two the next in pitched fighting all around the city that engaged the entire 2/4 battalion.
The defeat for the insurgency was sound. The mujahedin has yet to mount an organized and sustained conventional battle, but for three straight Wednesdays in July they rallied a sizeable force and coordinated their opening volleys in a combined fight, using indirect fire, ambushes and then direct fire.
Coordinated attacks are mounted only periodically and they are quickly dismantled. It's unusual for a gun battle to last more than 15 minutes, Marines report.
Facing overwhelming fire power, the insurgency has resorted to improvised explosive devices. These roadside bombs cause the lion's share of casualties. There have been more than 400 IEDs in just six months on one stretch of road. The Marines find and defuse about 60 percent of them before they explode.
Unlike Fallujah, Marines in Ramadi can and do go anywhere they want in the city -- but always with redundant layers of protection, and hidden guardian angel snipers watching over them.
Since June, however -- in deference to Iraq's sovereignty, and in an attempt to reduce the dangers to innocent Iraqis caught in the crossfire -- they have been limiting daily patrols. Instead, the Marines have commandeered several tall buildings to use as observation posts along the main road through town.
The observation posts give the Marines a perch to watch for people laying IEDs in advance of military convoys. And as the Marines' public presence in town is a major irritant to the citizens of Ramadi, they hoped confining their daily presence to certain buildings would reduce the tension. Ironically it may be increasing them.
When we were originally doing patrols, foot and vehicle, a guy would see the coalition pass by his house for 30 seconds once a week and that would be the extent of his contact, said Lt. Jonathan Hesener, 3rd platoon commander for Golf Company. But now everyone in Ramadi sees us on top of the hotel everyday as they drive down the street. To them it's not decreased presence. It's a symbol of occupation.
The prospect of Baghdad asserting itself in Ramadi and then throughout Anbar depends in large part on the Iraqi police and the national guard.
The police in Ramadi are less than confidence inspiring. A U.S. official characterized them simply: They suck.
In late July, insurgents attacked the home of the governor of Anbar province. It was guarded by 24 police, all of whom put down their weapons without firing a single shot or calling for back up. The governor's three male children were kidnapped and the house ransacked and partially burned.
Within a week the governor had negotiated for the release of the young men, and fled with the rest of his family to Jordan. Marines in Ramadi last week arrested the police chief there for his alleged involvement in the kidnapping.