14
JOURNEY TO BAGHDAD – 2004
ANONYMOUS
I have a basic military
paramedic background and was a member of 23 SAS regiment, a
Territorial Army reserve unit, also known as Special Air Service
(Reserve). There are three squadrons in 23 SAS: A squadron, based
in Glasgow; B squadron, based in Leeds; and C squadron, based in
Newcastle and Manchester. As I lived just outside Manchester, I was
in C squadron.
Once I left 23 SAS, I got into close protection and
did a few small contracts as a bodyguard in the UK and abroad,
including Russia. When I wasn’t working in close protection, I
normally worked the doors. It helped pay the bills between
operations, and door work gave me time off as and when I needed it.
Being a member of 23 SAS and a qualified paramedic, I was
privileged to be invited to many of the regiment’s training courses
and asked to instruct, which also required time off. That was the
beauty of door work; I doubt any other job would have been so
accommodating. I loved working in the protection industry. It is
what I always wanted to do. It is a great industry.
Once the war in Iraq came to an end and investment
and rebuilding programmes started, more and more bodyguards I knew
applied and were accepted on security contracts protecting
foreigners throughout the country. I heard stories of three- to
six-month contracts paying upwards of £350 a day. A year or two of
this would allow me to pay off my mortgage and be financially
stable. I’d be able to buy the things I needed, pay off my car loan
and give my girlfriend a few nice gifts. Plus, I would be doing a
job I could previously only have dreamed about.
There will never be anywhere else quite like Iraq –
there will simply never be any comparable opportunities for
bodyguards anywhere else in the world. Iraq has brought the world
of the bodyguard into the spotlight. There are thousands of
bodyguards working in Iraq – if not tens of thousands – and almost
every major foreign company with contracts in the country employs
teams of security personnel to protect its employees and assets. I
wanted to work within one of those teams.
I had heard that Control Risk Group (CRG) was one
of the biggest and probably one of the best security companies
operating in Iraq at that time. CRG is a truly international
company with offices in almost every major country around the
world. They didn’t pay as much as some of the other companies, but
their structure, equipment, facilities and logistical support
seemed much better, and this was much more important to me than a
few extra pounds in my weekly wage packet. It was my first real
high-risk assignment, and I wanted the extra security of a
well-established international company behind me.
I had a contact within the recruitment section at
their head office in London, to whom I sent my CV. I had heard that
CRG received hundreds of CVs each and every day, so I followed up
my letter with a telephone call a week or so later. I was told that
the company was not currently recruiting and to call back in a
month. I persevered and called them a few more times over the
following couple of months, until one Friday afternoon when they
confirmed that they were recruiting again. I was told to attend a
special recruitment day at a hotel near Victoria Station on the
following Tuesday.
Living in Manchester, I made arrangements to stay
with a friend on the outskirts of London on the Monday night so
that I would be fresh for the interview on the Tuesday morning. I
was allocated a one-hour spot, along with hundreds of other
hopefuls. The interviews began at 8 a.m. and finished at 7 p.m.,
and there were about 50 applicants being seen each and every hour.
After spending the first 45 minutes filling out application forms
and listening to the company history and profile, I was ushered
into a small office, where I was interviewed. Most of the
applicants didn’t get an interview – they were turned away just on
the weakness of their application forms. One of the interviewers
asked me a few questions about my background and experience, while
the other listened and took notes. The interview only lasted about
15 minutes. I was told that I would be contacted within three
days.
I think those were the slowest three days of my
life. I waited beside my phone, praying that I’d been successful,
but it didn’t ring. On the fourth day, I called them and was told
that I’d got the job and would shortly be going to Iraq. I was put
on standby, which meant that I could be called at any time and
given 24 hours’ notice that I was leaving. I didn’t know where to
start to get everything organised. I was given a kit list, and I
spent a day and a lot of money buying each and every item, but I
soon realised once I got to Iraq that I would never need most of
it.
My girlfriend and family were not at all happy.
They didn’t want me to go and tried their hardest to talk me out of
it. But I needed the money, and it was what I wanted to do. No one
could stop me.
The call finally came on the following Friday
morning. I was told to be at the CRG offices in London the next
day, at which time I would sign the contracts and complete the
final paperwork before being taken by minibus to RAF Brize Norton
in Oxfordshire, about 50 miles west of London. From Brize Norton,
we would fly via Hercules to Cyprus, where we would stay overnight
before flying on to Basra. Once in Basra, we would then make the
brief flight to Baghdad International Airport, formerly known as
Saddam International Airport. Apparently, Saddam had contracted the
French to help build the airport, at a cost of over $900 million,
which was never repaid.
Although each and every one of us was very nervous
and scared, we were all in complete awe as we arrived in Baghdad.
We were met by a team of veterans, each fully armed. We were given
body armour and AK-47s and told that if a contact occurred on the
route out from the airport, we should stick together and listen to
the instructions.
The road from the airport into Baghdad is probably
one of the most dangerous in the world. The route – sometimes
referred to as ‘Route Irish’ – is almost eight miles long and links
the airport to the Green Zone – the heavily guarded area of central
Baghdad where the UK and US embassies and most foreigners are
based. Passengers from the airport are ferried along the route in
armoured buses called ‘Rhino Runners’, because they look a bit like
big grey rhinoceroses. A great many bodyguards, journalists,
businessmen and military personnel have lost their lives along this
route, and I was praying I wouldn’t lose mine on my first day in
Iraq. Along with the rest of the team, I snapped madly at
everything I saw with my new digital camera. It was surreal looking
around me at the burned-out cars, bullet-ridden buildings and smoke
swirling into the air – I had seen it on the news but had never
imagined that one day I would be experiencing it for real.
Before we were allowed onto a team, every new
recruit had to undertake an intensive assessment. This comprised
driving skills, weapons handling and knowledge, and advanced first
aid. You had to pass all three to be allowed onto a team, otherwise
you would be sent straight home. This rule was not compromised, and
many new recruits were sent home after the first or second day
because they had failed one or more of the modules. The only
exception was if you had a particular skill and excelled at two of
the disciplines, in which case you might be allowed to fail the
other, but this was rare. I passed all three and was accepted onto
my first team. My wages were £280 per day, paid directly into my UK
bank account, and I worked six weeks on with three weeks off.
Among its many contracts, CRG had been tasked to
protect dignitaries from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO).
Our job was to escort FCO personnel around Iraq, visiting schools,
hospitals, government buildings, charities, organisations, etc. We
almost always used three-car convoys.
When we were not working, we spent our time
training and practising our emergency drills so that every possible
scenario we might encounter was covered. I enjoyed driving and was
particularly good at it, so I was increasingly tasked to drive the
principal vehicle. The good thing about CRG was that almost all of
the vehicles they used were armoured, whereas many other security
companies only had armoured vehicles for the client – the rest of
the team had to put up with soft-skins.
We were soon to realise the importance of armoured
vehicles when we had our first live contact about two weeks after I
arrived. Our convoy came under fire as we were making our way back
to the Green Zone. The client’s vehicle, which I was driving, was
targeted. A number of rounds went into the side of the vehicle. As
the sound of the first shot hit the car, the client cowered on the
floor while I slammed my foot down on the accelerator. A round had
gone into the radiator, and we had to evacuate the vehicle about
six kilometres further up the road, just before the temperature
gauge went off the scale. We locked the bullet-ridden vehicle and
evacuated the client into one of the convoy cars.
When we came back to retrieve the vehicle, it was
evident that someone had tried to break the window – probably to
steal the high-frequency radio – without any luck. It would have
been easier for them to have broken the lock rather than to have
tried to pickaxe the window.
I had been in Iraq for about eight months, and I
knew the country as well as anyone, but still things changed
dramatically and quickly, and we always had to be prepared for the
unexpected. For this reason, all operations had to be meticulously
coordinated and planned. Iraq is the bodyguard’s dream job, but it
can also be his or her last-ever assignment, and many have died in
the field. The Iraqis learn very quickly and are getting more and
more sophisticated. When I first went out, improvised explosive
devices were easily spotted and generally very crude, but as time
passed everything and anything was utilised. A good example of this
was a dead dog by the side of the road. It had been there for a
couple of days, but no one had taken any notice of it. However, one
day a convoy passed it and it exploded. The Iraqis had gutted it
one night and packed it full of explosives. Another time, a box
that had been left at the side of the road for a few days was
suddenly filled with explosives and detonated.
Tunnels were always a problem, as you never knew
who or what was waiting for you at the other end. Whenever a convoy
was just about to enter a tunnel, the local Iraqi vehicles behind
would suddenly slow right down to leave as much distance as
possible between themselves and the convoy – just in case.
CRG lost one of their bodyguards while I was out
there. He wasn’t on my team, but I knew him well. He was a team
leader and was in a two-car convoy with the principal when his
vehicle exploded. It had either gone over a landmine or someone had
slipped an improvised explosive device under it at a junction. When
it exploded, it threw the team leader through the front window. He
lay dead on the ground with the left side of his face, his left arm
and shoulders on fire. The rear vehicle pulled alongside to
evacuate the principal. When the second in command looked into the
rear of the exploded car, he saw the principal engulfed in flames,
waving his arms frantically and screaming. The second in command
didn’t know whether he should put him out of his misery with a
single bullet to the head, but the principal soon stopped screaming
and died. There was nothing left of the driver apart from a piece
of leg and a bit of torso.
Texts and emails relating to the incident flew
around the British bodyguard community. Some new recruits waiting
in Jordan for their onward flight to Iraq turned around and went
home and others who had been planning to come over never left the
UK. Most of us were in Iraq for the money, but many of us had
families, children, girlfriends and wives, and many people realised
that the job simply wasn’t worth it.
Most bodyguards working for CRG now arrive on
scheduled flights via Jordan. Iraqi Airways and Royal Jordanian
Airways were two of the first airlines to operate regular
international flights, and it was quite surreal sitting on a flight
going into Baghdad and being served sandwiches and coffee by a
pretty flight attendant. The ‘hosties’ were also in Iraq for the
money. It is said that they earn hundreds of pounds per
flight.
Take-off and landing from Baghdad is not for the
faint-hearted. Flights use a ‘corkscrew manoeuvre’ to avoid coming
into the range of small-arms fire and ground missiles, forcing you
to hold on to your seat and hope for the best. The take-off is
quick and the climb steep and dramatic – the objective is to get as
high as possible as quickly as possible, and the reverse is true
for landing, except it is even scarier.
I have since been offered contracts with other
security companies, but from my experience CRG is still one of the
best. They charge a lot to their clients, but the equipment they
supply is excellent. CRG’s employees stay alive because of the
money the company spends – many teams in non-armoured vehicles are
dead now because a company refused to invest. Some bodyguard
companies seem to lose more personnel than others, and the American
companies seem to lose more than most. Blackwater, probably one of
the biggest employers of bodyguards in Iraq, seem to lose personnel
every week. It was even rumoured that one of their teams was found
hanging from a bridge. Custer Battles – or ‘Cluster Fucks’ as they
were nicknamed by the security community in Iraq – was another US
firm that seemed to lose many of its personnel.
Contracts are ongoing and continuous until you
resign. You are staggered with your team – on and off at the same
time; rest and recreation at the same time – so you really form a
close working relationship with your colleagues. Some companies
don’t do this. They chop and change teams, and you never know who
you might be working with from one contract to another, but CRG do
their best to keep you in the same teams until your
resignation.
After one more tour, I will have enough to pay my
mortgage off and will come back to the UK and to my girlfriend and
look for another job. The trouble is: what is there to do after the
excitement of Iraq?