Action's thick on the front lines of reconstruction

[thedrifter]

Action's thick on the front lines of reconstruction
By Los Angeles Times
Jul 31, 2003 - 0802 am PDT

HIT, Iraq -- The U.S. commander was furious.

Someone had fired a rocket-propelled grenade at his troops, breaking the relative peace in this isolated patch of western Iraq.

Lt. Col. Henry "Butch" Kievenaar, military chief of a vast swath of this occupied nation, had gone out of his way not to interfere too much in town affairs. But now he presented community leaders with an ultimatum: "Bring me the guy who did it."

That set in motion a chain of events that resulted in a riot, the naming of a new police chief and mayor and a different way of doing business -- one that has, by and large, been successful in keeping the peace here.

"We've tried to be as respectful and helpful as possible to the local population," Kievenaar, 40, said in an interview at his command center, a heavily looted former Republican Guard garrison outside town. "But my No. 1 priority has to be force protection. How many times have we tried to be considerate to customs, feelings, etc., only to have one of our kids killed?"

Throughout Iraq, U.S. military commanders have been plunged into a mission that involves both pacification and reconstruction. They're grappling with daily and often complex issues of governance, even as their paramount concern remains the safety of their fighters.

These officers trained in making war have become the on-the-ground managers of the ambitious nation-building project unfolding in this depleted country where even the most idealistic GIs don't fool themselves into thinking that they are loved.

"We get some training," Kievenaar said, "but it's never the same as being here."

More comfortable leading a tank charge, commanders often find themselves in nonstop rounds of meetings with sheiks, religious leaders and political activists in often-combustible settings. Hidden agendas, pent-up frustrations and sectarian score-settling are ubiquitous after decades of repression and hardship, a blitzkrieg war and the subsequent orgy of looting that left much of the nation's infrastructure in tatters.

"It's really about sitting down with the different sheiks, trying to figure out what makes them function," Kievenaar said. "We try and be fair and equitable. I put out the word: `Here's the thing we do. If you work with us, there's no problem. If you want to attack us, you'll get hurt.' "

The military throughout Iraq mounts as many as 2,000 patrols a day, mostly without incident. But much of soldiers' time is taken up with the mundane tasks of restoring civil society -- training police, fixing roads and schools, restoring water and power and even hauling away garbage. Soldiers here just launched a project to construct a proper landfill, although the commander's preference is to contract out as many civilian jobs as possible.

"I look for ways to employ the out-of-work Iraqi citizens where I can," Kievenaar said.

Kievenaar, the son of a retired major general, is an 18-year veteran who served as a tank cavalry captain in the 1991 Persian Gulf War. He majored in economics in college and has a master's degree in military arts and science. In many ways, he epitomizes the professional officer the Army is depending on to carry out the formidable Iraq mission.

Compactly built and analytically minded, Kievenaar appears to be a no-nonsense commander. But unlike many officers, he expresses an interest in explaining his actions and decisions. And while his bearing is serious and tough, civilians who have worked with him say he tries to be responsive.

He spoke in his simple second-floor billet, exhausted from days of traveling to far-flung bases under his command.

"All of these young soldiers are far away from home and family, but they will stay until their mission is completed," Kievenaar said. "And the way to get the mission done is to get all the infrastructure running, get people back to work, and get a safe and secure environment where people aren't afraid to walk up and down the street. We do all that stuff, and we're done."

Hit (pronounced Heat) is a hardscrabble tribal town of grain and fruit farmers and small merchants who proudly boast that their community along the lush Euphrates dates back more than 5,000 years. Residents plainly felt neglected during the 35 years of Baath Party rule under Hussein. Resources flowed to the wealthy neighboring cattle and market town of Kubaysah, where Saddam would visit when he was in the vicinity. The ruler never deigned to stop in Hit.

"Life was pretty much going on as usual" when U.S. troops arrived, Kievenaar recalled.

Town leaders, on their own, had formed a kind of interim ruling council, but the top guy was the police chief, whom many residents resented as a holdover from Saddam's regime. Kievenaar made his rounds to the sheiks. The Army went to work on the smashed infrastructure and schools while trying to train a professional, nonpolitical police force -- a novel concept.

Then, in late May, the peace was shattered.

U.S. troops discovered an illegal weapons market. Kievenaar ordered it cleared out. The next evening, someone fired the rocket-propelled grenade at U.S. troops. No one was hurt, but the attack was a wake-up call.

"I went down and saw the chief of police the next morning, with the council," Kievenaar said. "I told them I wouldn't accept this."

The police chief soon produced the name of the suspected shooter. The military's preference was that the police roust him, with U.S. support.

What followed was a debacle. The suspect got away, escaping through the warren of winding streets and smoky souks. As a military helicopter hovered overhead, residents complained bitterly of intrusive searches of their homes -- a near-universal objection by Iraqis unaccustomed to such tactics.

That same day, critics whom Kievenaar regarded as remnants of the Baath leadership had scheduled a protest about a lack of services. The searches only upped the ante. Angry demonstrators gathered outside the police station, tossing stones. Soon, they were lobbing grenades.

Soldiers fired warning shots. The squadron's Quick Reaction Force, alerted by aircraft, rolled into town, with several Bradleys. A tense standoff ensued. Town elders asked for 48 hours to calm things down. The Army pulled back. That night, a mob burned down the police station.

The turmoil forced drastic change. A new police chief and mayor have been installed, following tribal caucuses, although U.S. authorities cleared the names.

Things were quiet for a time in Hit after the riot, but then, in June, an antitank mine exploded one evening beneath a Humvee on a side road. A soldier lost part of his foot but survived. That same evening, a fuel line detonated in what authorities suspect was an act of sabotage, one of an ongoing series of attacks targeting the country's crippled power grid.

"Some of these things are just beyond my capabilities," Kievenaar said. "Three to five years down the road, hopefully, Iraq will be a very thriving Third World country. But it's the Iraqi people more than anyone else who will decide that. They will determine their own destiny.

"Right now, as long as the people coexist with us, that's fine with me."

Copyright 2003 Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

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Sempers,

Roger