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Editorial See other Editorial Articles Title: Life in the 'triangle of death' Life in the 'triangle of death' Guardian photographer Sean Smith, embedded with US soldiers near Baghdad and on his fifth trip to Iraq, describes the huge gap between government rhetoric and reality on the ground · In pictures: Sean Smith in Iraq Interview by Stephen Moss Friday May 11, 2007 The Guardian US soldiers from the 10th mountain division on a foot patrol in the so-called 'triangle of death' south of Baghdad US soldiers from the 10th mountain division on a foot patrol in the so-called 'triangle of death' south of Baghdad. Photograph: Sean Smith The Americans didn't attempt to patrol the so-called "triangle of death" around the town of Yusifiyah, about 25 miles south-west of Baghdad, until last year. Before that it was a no-go area, ruled by tribal chiefs. Even now, when you move through the area, it reminds you of John Boorman's film Deliverance; you never know what will be around the next corner. I'm embedded with the 2nd Brigade, 10th Mountain Division, who have a base in Yusifiyah and are setting up smaller bases in the surrounding countryside. Yusifiyah is predominantly Shia; the areas around it, populated by farmers, are largely Sunni. Both groups are hostile to the Americans: used to autonomy, they recognise this as an occupation. The area is full of palms and irrigation ditches. To the American foot patrols, having to watch out for mines and snipers, it must feel like Vietnam. At first they had great difficulty establishing bases in the countryside and suffered heavy casualties, but the bases are now more secure. The "surge" in troop levels is paying off in terms of greater stability - the sheer size of the military bootprint guarantees that. But can it be sustained? The troops are doing longer terms of duty; morale seems low; how many will re-enlist? The only contact the soldiers have with the local population is in stress situations - when a search is being conducted or IDs checked. The troops take interpreters with them, but their English is not always very good. Through the interpreters they will ask some basic questions - "Have you seen any strange people around here?", "Are there any bad guys in the area?" - but mostly the locals just shrug and say no. They don't want to get involved. One night a vehicle patrol was hit by a roadside bomb. I joined a foot patrol that went out in response, and three men were tracked to their home a mile away. They'll now be sent to Baghdad for questioning, and will either be charged or released. But that could take a long time: they can be held for a long period without being charged and can be parcelled around in the meantime. Following the explosion, the patrol searched houses nearby. That's where they surprised the boy in bed. He looks unconcerned in the photograph, but that's because here the abnormal becomes the norm. Mostly, the locals know what to do when they are confronted by a patrol - stop whatever they're doing, get out of their car, explain who they are. And do it quickly - or you run the risk of being shot. I realise that, by being embedded, I am seeing the country through the eyes of the occupiers. There is no way I can tell the whole story. But what I can do is show the gap between the rhetoric of the government in Baghdad and the reality on the ground. There is no effective administration here and the Iraqi army is a fiction. There are Iraqi soldiers alongside the Americans, but they owe their allegiance to a unit commander who is usually someone known to them previously. They are small bands or gangs of soldiers, not a national force. This is my fifth visit to Iraq. This time it has been very slow going - just getting round is difficult, trying to be in the right place at the right time. I can't emphasise enough what a slog this is for the troops. They're good soldiers, sent to do an impossible political job, so at the moment it's not much more than putting one foot in front of the other and showing they are there. This isn't about governing Iraq; it's just trying to demonstrate nowhere is out of bounds.
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