So what is it, exactly, that you do over there?

          I’m an Iraqi Army advisor these days.  In a nutshell, all that really means is that I drink a lot more tea than your typical soldier.  Officially, I assist and mentor Iraqi Army engineer leaders in their operations, organization, training programs, and anything else that will keep them from just sitting around and doing nothing, which is what they would really prefer to do.  It’s a bizarre job to be stuck with and results in many strange relationships with lots of Iraqi men who appear to enjoy kissing me on the cheek.  The Iraqi Army is pretty used to advisors running around but, in general, I imagine we get pretty annoying.  I personally advise a man named Colonel Latiff.  He’s about as disagreeable and uninspiring as men can get. Luckily, he seems amused by me and that’s probably why he lets me into his office at all.  At first it seemed every meeting we had created the type of atmosphere you’d expect while making small talk to your prom date’s father while she finishes getting ready.  Nothing says uncomfortable like, “I hope I get to sleep with your daughter…”
          Imagine every day while you’re working in your office that some guy just invites himself in, sits down beside you, and asks you a bunch of stupid questions that you really don’t have time for.  (I guess this might sound like your boss.)  Anyway, this guy is half your age and doesn’t speak your language very well; he’s just muttering gibberish and some interpreter is actually having the conversation with you.  Even ignoring the negative feelings you may already be harboring given the fact that his army invaded your country years ago, the relationship still seems a little invasive and insulting.  

          What’s worse, as a combat engineer, my job is to get the Iraqi Army to conduct daily clearance of the roads throughout the province.  This means they need to get into their armored vehicles and drive around real slow looking for bombs.  The Americans have done it since the war started.  I spent a year in Baqubah myself watching things blow up.  We’d like to stop doing these missions ourselves so that we can go home.  It makes perfect sense for us to give this job over to the Iraqis and that’s why I am in Latiff’s office daily explaining how I can make his Soldiers proficient in this task.  The problem?  Colonel Latiff drives his car to work every morning on these same roads.  If he didn’t see a bomb on his way into work, why would he need to send out a clearance patrol once he got there?  I guess he’s got a point.  And before I breach a number of operational security regulations by going into the threat assessment applicable to my specific slice of this lovely country, I’d like to sum up in a single phrase our reasoning for these missions and the basic guidance I give to my counterpart as an advisor: it’s complicated; just fucking do it.      

          Although I’m sure not all advisors share the same kind of flowery Mid-Western vernacular when speaking with Iraqi Army officials, this type of work is done all over Iraq by soldiers like me ranging from young non-commissioned officers through Lieutenant Colonels.  Early on, the role was considered particularly undesirable, yet in the last two years, it has grown in distinction.  Now even commanders not specifically assigned to advise Iraqi personnel go out of their way in order to find someone in an Iraqi uniform and at least get a picture taken with them.  All it took was 3 and a half years of flailing around in this desert shooting the wrong people and dog-piling naked prisoners to figure out that maybe we should change our approach.  

          Whatever the Iraqi people think about US troops and their brilliant civilian bosses back home, they were lucky that General Patraeus showed up and made thinking cool again.  All of a sudden counter-insurgency started to actually counter the insurgency.  Leaders were expected to read a book or two about protracted warfare before they were allowed to fight against it and almost everyone learned to say hello, goodbye and thank you in Arabic.  Bush called it the surge; I call it a revolution in common sense.  

          Although I risk being labeled as some kind of genius, I’ll let you know that, in college, I took the opportunity to learn about Arab culture, politics, language, religion etc.  I took Arabic, and while my GPA suffered, I think it set me up for success given my career choice.  It doesn’t take an enormous leap of intuition to consider that once you get to a foreign country you may discover a need to ask directions or at least insult someone in a way that they can understand.  I don’t claim to be an expert, though.  There is a lot about this place that blows my mind (no pun intended).  The treatment (and inexplicable concealment) of women is number one on my list of absurdities followed closely by the complete disregard for toilet paper.  I’ve often stooped to a level so vulgar as to suggest that after the occupation, we should have pulled out, air-dropped a few million tons of Charmin Extra Soft for them to experiment with, and then returned several years later to introduce democracy.  Now for THAT you can call me a genius. 

          But we never conducted Operation Bottoms Up (what? You thought I wouldn’t name it?)  We got Patraeus instead and with him came an ever-increasing emphasis on coalition units getting the Iraqi Army and Iraqi Police to do their work for them.  My battalion is no exception.  As the officer in charge of our numerous partnership endeavors, I am blessed to observe exciting and hilarious scenarios on a daily basis.  With all of our differences, the American and Iraqi military share some unique qualities seemingly inherent to the business of war: among them the ability to work less efficiently than any of their civilian counterparts, to turn almost any simple task into an ordeal, and to somehow place unnecessary emphasis, down to the most infuriatingly minute detail, on the least important aspects of any operation. 

          It’s not a job for everyone.  The cultural divides, language barriers, and man-kissing get a little cumbersome, but the tea’s good.