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.The law,in reality, was Big Boy Rules.As the security industry grew, a shadowy and motley workforcecontinued to pour into Iraq, thousands of operators of varying qual-ifications. It was like the Mad Max Union Hall, said Arrighi, whostarted working in private security in Iraq in 2004.The U.S.government rarely got involved. We could hire the Rockettes and give them guns, and theywouldn t know, Arrighi told me.J-Dub was in a good mood.The Hilla debaclethe torched SUV, the wounded Iraqi had been buried and forgot-ten.Five weeks later, J-Dub was due for a vacation; within hourshe d be on a plane back to Oklahoma.He geared up next to theSuburban, donning his flak jacket, his ballistic glasses, and hisgloves.He racked a round into the chamber of his M-4. 0306817434.qxd 9/22/08 2:09 PM Page 27I WANT TO KILL SOMEBODY TODAY 27 I want to kill somebody today, J-Dub announced.The three mercs who were traveling with J-Dub later said theyregarded it as an off-handed remark.Isi, the Fijian, told me that J-Dub often blurted out such comments before hitting the road. From my point of view, he had a problem.Nearly every day he saidhe wanted to kill somebody, said Isi. Why? Isi said he asked before they rolled out. Because I m going on vacation tomorrow, J-Dub replied. That s a long time, buddy. Washbourne denied that he ever expressed an intention or desireto kill.The Milwaukee team rolled out onto Route Irish, the infamousBaghdad airport road, en route to the airport itself.J-Dub took hisplace in the front passenger seat of the Follow, the third Suburbanin a three-truck convoy.Next to him was the driver, Chuck Shep-pard, a tall former Ranger.He went by the call sign Shrek becauseof his vague resemblance to the cartoon monster.Sheppard had areputation for competence and honesty; Triple Canopy was pro-moting him to team leader the following day.In the backseat, facingthe rear, were Isi and a former marine sniper named ShaneSchmidt.After getting out of the Marine Corps in 2003, where hedid two tours in Afghanistan, Schmidt, then twenty-nine, hadknocked around, working at the post office and at his godfather ssteelyard in Wisconsin.He said he grew disillusioned by civilianlife, in which loyalty was a punch line to a very poor joke. He gotthe job through a former Delta he knew.On his bulletproof vest,Schmidt sometimes wore a small yellow duckie that his daughterhad given him.His code sign was Happy, an ironic reference tohis surly demeanor, due in part to his dissolving marriage.It was the second run of the day for J-Dub s crew.The morningrun had ended with Schmidt pumping a round into the grille of asuspicious sedan that had been inching up on the convoy as itwaited to enter the Green Zone.The car stopped without furtherincident, but J-Dub was jealous, Schmidt said, as if he feared hemight leave Iraq without squeezing off another shot. Son of abitch, you got to shoot today and I didn t, J-Dub told him, accord- 0306817434.qxd 9/22/08 2:09 PM Page 2828 BIG BOY RULESing to Schmidt.But, then, in the early afternoon, the team was dis-patched to the airport to pick up another client, a KBR executive.The convoy drove west toward the airport at ninety miles perhour.Washbourne, as was common, was blaring death metal music, according to Schmidt and Sheppard.Route Irish was known vari-ously as IED Alley for the improvised explosive devices, or road-side bombs, that frequently detonated in the median and DeathStreet. To avoid the bombs and the snipers, people drove the five-mile road as fast as they could.Within minutes, the Milwaukee teamhad arrived safely at checkpoint one, the first barrier to entry outsidethe airport.The checkpoint a maze of concrete barriers, bomb-sniffingdogs, and armed contractors was always sketchy.Clusters of suspi-cious-looking men loitered near the charred carcasses of blown-upvehicles.A black statue of a winged man towered over the check-point, and it served as a kind of target for insurgents who occasion-ally lobbed mortars and rockets at the waiting cars.Sometimesvehicles detonated in line, incinerating everything around them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The law,in reality, was Big Boy Rules.As the security industry grew, a shadowy and motley workforcecontinued to pour into Iraq, thousands of operators of varying qual-ifications. It was like the Mad Max Union Hall, said Arrighi, whostarted working in private security in Iraq in 2004.The U.S.government rarely got involved. We could hire the Rockettes and give them guns, and theywouldn t know, Arrighi told me.J-Dub was in a good mood.The Hilla debaclethe torched SUV, the wounded Iraqi had been buried and forgot-ten.Five weeks later, J-Dub was due for a vacation; within hourshe d be on a plane back to Oklahoma.He geared up next to theSuburban, donning his flak jacket, his ballistic glasses, and hisgloves.He racked a round into the chamber of his M-4. 0306817434.qxd 9/22/08 2:09 PM Page 27I WANT TO KILL SOMEBODY TODAY 27 I want to kill somebody today, J-Dub announced.The three mercs who were traveling with J-Dub later said theyregarded it as an off-handed remark.Isi, the Fijian, told me that J-Dub often blurted out such comments before hitting the road. From my point of view, he had a problem.Nearly every day he saidhe wanted to kill somebody, said Isi. Why? Isi said he asked before they rolled out. Because I m going on vacation tomorrow, J-Dub replied. That s a long time, buddy. Washbourne denied that he ever expressed an intention or desireto kill.The Milwaukee team rolled out onto Route Irish, the infamousBaghdad airport road, en route to the airport itself.J-Dub took hisplace in the front passenger seat of the Follow, the third Suburbanin a three-truck convoy.Next to him was the driver, Chuck Shep-pard, a tall former Ranger.He went by the call sign Shrek becauseof his vague resemblance to the cartoon monster.Sheppard had areputation for competence and honesty; Triple Canopy was pro-moting him to team leader the following day.In the backseat, facingthe rear, were Isi and a former marine sniper named ShaneSchmidt.After getting out of the Marine Corps in 2003, where hedid two tours in Afghanistan, Schmidt, then twenty-nine, hadknocked around, working at the post office and at his godfather ssteelyard in Wisconsin.He said he grew disillusioned by civilianlife, in which loyalty was a punch line to a very poor joke. He gotthe job through a former Delta he knew.On his bulletproof vest,Schmidt sometimes wore a small yellow duckie that his daughterhad given him.His code sign was Happy, an ironic reference tohis surly demeanor, due in part to his dissolving marriage.It was the second run of the day for J-Dub s crew.The morningrun had ended with Schmidt pumping a round into the grille of asuspicious sedan that had been inching up on the convoy as itwaited to enter the Green Zone.The car stopped without furtherincident, but J-Dub was jealous, Schmidt said, as if he feared hemight leave Iraq without squeezing off another shot. Son of abitch, you got to shoot today and I didn t, J-Dub told him, accord- 0306817434.qxd 9/22/08 2:09 PM Page 2828 BIG BOY RULESing to Schmidt.But, then, in the early afternoon, the team was dis-patched to the airport to pick up another client, a KBR executive.The convoy drove west toward the airport at ninety miles perhour.Washbourne, as was common, was blaring death metal music, according to Schmidt and Sheppard.Route Irish was known vari-ously as IED Alley for the improvised explosive devices, or road-side bombs, that frequently detonated in the median and DeathStreet. To avoid the bombs and the snipers, people drove the five-mile road as fast as they could.Within minutes, the Milwaukee teamhad arrived safely at checkpoint one, the first barrier to entry outsidethe airport.The checkpoint a maze of concrete barriers, bomb-sniffingdogs, and armed contractors was always sketchy.Clusters of suspi-cious-looking men loitered near the charred carcasses of blown-upvehicles.A black statue of a winged man towered over the check-point, and it served as a kind of target for insurgents who occasion-ally lobbed mortars and rockets at the waiting cars.Sometimesvehicles detonated in line, incinerating everything around them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]