When I was in Iraq: Part Eight

The Second Attack

I had heard the low thuds of car bombs going off in the distant city on June 24. Our base was on the outskirts. I sincerely hoped that my three months could pass without any significant incident in my immediate proximity.

That was all about to change.

I don't remember what day it was. It doesn't matter. As I have described, you are constantly rehydrating in Iraq, so I was on my way to the latrine (in the daytime I treated myself to the bathroom itself).

On my way, I heard someone slam a door so hard, so loudly, that my visceral reaction was anger.

"Why should someone slam a door like that??!!" I thought.

I kept walking. And then it happened again. Someone was slamming a door shut, so hard that it echoed through our compound. And my anger mounted. Why the f%$k was someone slamming a door shut like that?

And that's when I saw it. This object was tumbling end over end through the sky, it landed outside our concrete walls. And then I both saw, heard, and felt the shock wave of an explosion. I had just seen a mortar land. And I retroactively realized--the slamming door had also been mortars.

And then I saw another one. It was tumbling end over end. I stood there, watching it as it also, thankfully, landed on the other side of our wall. The explosion washed over me.

A moment of silence. It was over. Only then, I suddenly realized, HOLY SHIT! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! I ran to the CIA blast resistant work space. I would wait there until they declared the all clear.

I should have run to cover the moment I knew I was in danger. But I had not done so. And that's because, like so many people, I don't realize I'm in danger until long after the danger passes. 

I have learned after the fact that the human body turns new experiences into things it understands. That's why I heard those first mortar attacks as slamming doors. My brain was turning those sounds into something it understood. Once I saw the bombs in the air, I was able to hear the explosions occurring around me.

I have called this the "FIRST ATTACK" because it would not be the last.

As we all caught our breath that day, we took stock of the fact that we were in a war zone. I recall pensive and nervous glances exchanged over dinner. It was only somewhere inside July. I would not leave until mid-September. My tour would not be as long as many people. But it was longer than anyone I knew at the time. 

That would not be the last attack our base would face. But that's for another day...

"First of the Storm" - What Does the Self-Proclaimed Islamic State Mean By This Threat?

The self-proclaimed Islamic State, in a French communique taking credit for the Paris attacks on November 13, 2015, states that this is but the:

début de la tempête

"First of the Storm."

This is actually not a very good translation of the Arabic original of their communique published in other venues. And I believe the Arabic original is where we really need to focus our interpretive energy to possibly determine their future planning.

The Arabic original of their threat is that [the Paris attacks are]:

أول الغيث (awwal al-ghayth)

A better English translation would be:

"First of the Heavy Rain."

But the important point in understanding their threat is that this phrase is a quote from a well-known Arab proverb:

أول الغيث قطرة (awwal al-ghayth qaTrah)

"The first (thing) of a heavy rain is a (single) raindrop."

This is a proverb roughly equivalent to, for instance, "Every journey must begin with the first step."

Native speakers of Arabic who hear "أول الغيث (awwal al-ghayth)" likely know the proverb and its true meaning. 

The normal word in Arabic for "storm" is:

عاصفة

(9aaSifah)

The fact that the communique does not use the normal word and instead quotes this proverb may be telling. The proverb is not focusing so much on the severity and intensity of the storm itself, but rather on the abundance of the raindrops.

If the Paris attack is but the first drop of a heavy rain shower, the communique seems not to be threatening more severe attacks. Rather, it is threatening abundant attacks, even small ones, all of which will add up to an "abundant rain."

Ciprian Calciu and Mariana Lăcrămioara Pop - May They Rest in Peace / Odihnească-se în pace

If you don't know Romanian you wouldn't have ever known about the lives of Ciprian Calciu and Mariana Lăcrămioara Pop, two Romanian citizens who died last night in the terrorist attacks in Paris. To honor their memory, I will describe them in English so that a wider world may know their story.

Ciprian Calciu (32 years old) came from Tulcea, a city near the Danube Delta in Romania. He was a graduate from the Henri Coandă Technical College.

Mariana Lăcrămioara Pop (29 years old) came from Baia Mare, a city in the North-West of Romania. She was a graduate of the Anghel Saligny Technical College. 

They had both moved to France seeking a better life and work opportunities. And there they met each other and fell in love. Ciprian was working as a mechanic for an elevator company; Mariana was working as a bartender. They have a son, one and half years old.

Last night, they went to an anniversary party with friends at the restaurant La Belle Équipe. Their son was at home, being cared for by Mariana's mother. Also at home was Mariana's eleven year old daughter from a previous marriage.

The two were enjoying the party together with their friends when terrorists from the self-proclaimed Islamic State burst in firing bullets into the space. Ciprian and Mariana, along with 17 other people, died in that attack.

They were two beautiful people working hard to build a life for themselves and their children. They did not deserve for their lives to be cut short by this senseless brutality.

France has declared itself to now be at war. And I believe we need to stand beside our oldest ally.

But in this moment, I just pray for Ciprian and Mariana in the words of our Orthodox tradition. And I invite you to pray for them and their loved ones, as well as all who have died and were injured in these attacks.

Veşnica Pomenire.
Memory Eternal.

în loc luminat, în loc cu verdeaţă, în loc de odihnă.
In a Place of Brightness, in a Place of Verdure, in a Place of Repose.

Odihnească-se în pace.
May They Rest in Peace.

Henri Co

Henri Coandă

Henri Coandă

Henri Coandă