Small Wars Journal

Where is Lazam?

Tue, 12/04/2007 - 9:08pm
Lazam Faraj Rwaili, aged 23, joined the Iraqi Police Service Unit in August of this year.

In early November, Lazam was in a contingent of Iraqi Police traveling from their own city in Anbar Province to another station in Salah-ad-Din Province. Sitting in jail in the other station was the most wanted man for their own city: a very dangerous terrorist, responsible for many Iraqi and American deaths. They were going to attempt to retrieve him and return him to their city, where he could be further (and lawfully) interrogated by those with a more vested interest in the information he might provide than his jailers in the other province, where he had gone to ground.

When the police arrived at the station, they soon found their man and took photos of him in jail, proving that he was there. Unfortunately, they could not obtain his transfer because the paperwork had become fouled at some higher level in the police bureaucracy. So they departed to return to their city.

The road between these two cities is not a pleasant place. The US and Iraqi forces have been so successful in pushing terrorists out of populated areas that many have taken up refuge between them. The police convoy came under automatic weapons fire from another vehicle, which then sped away. The police, in several Ford F-350s with mounted PKC machine guns, began a flanking movement to pursue and cut off their attackers. At this point, Lazam, riding in the bed of one of the trucks, was struck by a shot to his left lung. He began to cough up a great deal of blood. His vehicle stopped the pursuit in order for his fellows to render first aid, while the rest of the convoy continued their pursuit. Just as they were maneuvering to cut off the enemy, a US Army convoy came down the road, blocking their fields of fire. The enemy slipped away. The police halted the convoy and tried to explain what had happened, but both were without a translator. One thing was clear to both though: Lazam was in bad shape, and needed help fast.

The Army offered to evacuate him to the closest US medical facility, at FOB Summerall, provided a second man go with them so Lazam would not be alone. When they arrived at the FOB, Lazam was rushed to medical care and separated from his buddy. Shortly thereafter, the buddy, in full police uniform, with a police ID, was escorted off the FOB and told to get home the best way he could. He holed up for a few days with a distant relative, then eventually made his way back to his hometown and the rest of the police force.

Not so for Lazam. The US military has lost all track of him. Even attempts by high-ranking medical officers to find him at any of the US medical facilities surrounding Baghdad have come to naught. No one knows the answers to simple questions: what was his status upon arrival at the FOB? Who operated on him there? Was he sent to a higher level of care within the US system? Or was he transferred to the Iraqi medical infrastructure? The rumors have swirled, through both Iraqi and US channels: "He is in Balad (a giant US base)!" "We've found him! He had a kidney removed!" "He was transferred to an Iraqi hospital!" "Our surgeon has spoken on the phone to the US surgeon who worked on him!" Or: "There is a man with a similar name who died in a Tikrit hospital . . ."

Lazam's family is, understandably, frantic. His wife is always asking the Iraqi Police force and the local sheik for any news on her husband. At this point, even if he has died, just the news of his fate would give them closure.

Tragedies happen in war, but this one is especially difficult because it is extremely preventable. After over four years in Iraq, the US has excruciatingly detailed and mandatory methods of reporting for ordnance caches found, detainees arrested, escalation of force procedures taken, and the like. But we have no organized method of tracking Iraqis who enter the US medical system. This transforms state-of-the-art US medical care for wounded Iraqis -- however well-intentioned it might be -- into a nightmare game of guessing, waiting, and sometimes despair for their families. In this particular case, it is especially frustrating as Lazam was one of those who chose to join the Iraqi Police in its infancy, risking his own and his family's lives. The US is spending large sums of money and time to build police forces like his, and events like this directly (and noticeably) impact their morale. Our own Small Unit Leaders' Guide to Counterinsurgency notes that "building up the morale and confidence of host-nation security forces should be the primary strategic objective." Instilling the concept of "leave no man behind" only becomes more difficult when one man has been left behind and the US seems powerless to find him.

We can do much better.

Two solutions offer themselves, though others might be advisable as well. First, when a US unit medevacs an Iraqi national, it should be required to send a report of his full name, tribal affiliation, nature of injures, place and time wounded, and a method and point of contact for his relatives, and so forth, to higher headquarters. This mirrors existing casualty reporting, but with an emphasis on the identity of the individual. This reporting must be standardized; if not, it won't be used, or will be easily confused. Next, there should be some sort of clearinghouse for information on Iraqis in the US military medical system. It could be staffed by contractors if necessary and would not have to be very large. The report would go straight to their door and they would then be responsible for tracking his progress through our system. Every time his physical location changed, medical staff would be required to send an update to the clearinghouse, which could then appropriately update the casualty's family until he is released to them.

The second solution is equally simple: the US should sponsor, or at least encourage, the formation of Arabic-language internet sites which would help Iraqis find lost or missing relatives. This type of website developed spontaneously after both the Asian Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina and a number of people were able to find their family members just through online networking. Given the explosion of internet cafes and satellite-based home connectivity in Iraq, this could prove to be an equally effective means of bringing either reunions or closure to thousands of Iraqi families.

Such measures might seem more like social work than military activities, and that might be true. But conditions in Anbar Province now are much more analogous to those that prevailed in Iraq after the fall of Baghdad than they are to the full-on counterinsurgency combat of 2005 and 2006. We already fumbled one postwar rebuilding phase. Best to learn from our mistakes. We owe it to men like Lazam, who are the lynchpin of a successful Iraq and a drawdown of US forces.

Captain Josh Manchester is a platoon commander in 3rd Battalion, 23rd Marines, and wrote this from Iraq.

Categories: Lazam Faraj Rwaili

Comments

The part about Lazam's buddy being kicked off the base in an area that was not his home area to fend for himself made my hair stand on end.

The part about the Army losing Lazam made me bang my head against the table (credit to Marct for the phrase).

Please let us know how this turns out.