(Photos, from the top: A fleet of 5 Iraqi helicopters lifts off from the International Zone in Baghdad; Me with my new friend Haidar, from Karbala, in front of the iconic Hands of Victory monument in Baghdad; A photo of my desk in the modern, well-furnished trailer I lived in at COB Delta; the convoy of armored vehicles that took us to the Iran-Iraq border crossing)

A reader noted, correctly I think, that my embed with the U.S. military in Iraq could not have represented a greater departure from the work I’ve been doing over the course of my trek through the Middle East.

This project has centered on making a direct connection with the people of the Middle East—living, eating, and sleeping among them for months at a time. Traveling to Iraq, though, placed me directly in the middle of the military bubble, creating a barrier, both literal and figurative, between the Iraqi people and me.

While I became acutely aware of the bubble after only a couple of hours on the ground, it actually never bothered me. This journey has been all about following Alexander the Great’s route in a modern context. I’ve had to deal with closed borders, gun-toting militias, and traffic-clogged highways—all challenges that never confronted the man from Macedonia. In that vein, visiting Iraq with the U.S. military gave a appropriately current perspective on the land that Alexander coveted, conquered, and ruled.

Equally fascinating was watching the U.S. military grapple with the bubble. Even as I struggled with the obvious barrier as an observer, the soldiers were dealing with it in the context of a mission that requires them to overcome it. “Advise and Assist,” which is the slogan of Operation New Dawn, necessarily means connecting with Iraqis.

For very good reason, the military enforces a strict system aimed at protecting the soldiers, who continue to come under frequent fire from the enemy. That system, though, creates distance between the two sides. The heavily armored Humvees have windows so small and so armored that I doubt Iraqi kids see when the soldiers wave back. (Again, no question here over the necessity of the armor). Vehicles are typically required to travel in, at the least, convoys of three, with gunners standing in each vehicle. They make for an intimidating presence on the road.

Even where I was in Wasit Province, not one of Iraq’s most dangerous, the decision to dismount from the vehicles outside the base is taken very seriously. Just two weeks ago, a soldier in the squadron I was embedding with was killed in Wasit by sniper fire while outside his vehicle in a town. Rocket fire continues to pound COB Delta roughly every other week.

Despite the continued violence and the measures put in place to protect the soldiers from it, the troops continue to work through the security concerns to maintain direct access with the Iraqi people, an effort I admired because the trek had put the issue at the front of my mind too.

One day, I visited an Iran-Iraq border crossing, the busiest of several along the hundreds of miles of border. I rode up there with the platoon directly responsible for advising the Iraqi border staff. When we parked the Humvees, I was surprised to see the soldiers pulling off their body armor. Platoon leader 1^st Lieutenant Sean Fraser explained that it was important for the Iraqis to see his platoon’s mission at the border as removed from any combat operations.

I toured the terminal with several from the platoon, weaving in and out of the Iranian and Iraqi crowds, watching as the soldiers interacted comfortably with Iraqi border officials, tossing in the stray Arabic word to help bridge the cultural gap.

On the day I left COB Delta, Lieutenant Colonel Keith Dunkel, who commands the Stability Transition Team (STT) for Wasit Province, was scheduled to meet with fishmongers from the provincial capital of al Kut to discuss relocating the fish market.

I watched for more than half an hour as Colonel Brian Mullins, who commands the 3^rd Armored Cavalry’s 2^nd Squadron, and company commander Captain Gavin Schwan negotiated with an Iraqi army lieutenant about getting a demining team to the border area to help a family remove 4 landmines from their farm fields. The mines were a remnant of the Iran-Iraq war.

Even in my brief time visiting Wasit, it was fascinating to see “advise and assist” in action, watching as U.S. soldiers tried to overcome the still precarious security situation to connect directly with the Iraqis and advise them on everything from one family’s landmine woes to the challenges of managing a busy border crossing.

One day, if U.S. forces and their Iraqi counterparts continue to make progress, I look forward to returning to a more secure Iraq, breaking out of the military bubble, and completing my journey on foot, as I had always intended to.

***

Last week I wrote about how my trip to Babylon was put on hold because of immigration issues and broken badge machines.

After days of banging my head against the wall, I learned that the only way to solve my problem was to return to Kuwait and fly back to Baghdad commercially, rather than with the military, to get the much-needed Iraqi stamp in my passport.

It’s Tuesday night here now, and I’m preparing to set off for the airport next hour. I’ll fly from Kuwait to Baghdad and spend the rest of Wednesday in the Iraqi capital tackling the desk job portion of my job. Then, on Thursday, if all goes well (and I have several letters of permission from different government agencies saying it will), I’ll conclude my journey by passing through the gates of Babylon.

Tags: 3rd ACR, al Kut, Baghdad, COB Delta, International Zone, Iraq, Wasit Province