I don�t want this taken as a dig against our ING (Iraqi National Guard) allies, but working with them can be an adventure in itself. They really don�t do much, but then again it�s tough to allow them to. They�ve had serious security issues so we can�t include them in the planning of any operations. They don�t seem to take soldiering seriously, but we eventually have to turn over much of what we are doing to secure our lines of communication/supply over to them. Also, the local populace needs to see an Iraqi face on much of what we do so they don�t continue to consider our presence here an occupation.
A few days after the Dragon Eye incident above I was sitting outside the company CP reading a magazine. Our ING detachment, a portion of the squad that is assigned to the platoon position, was across the highway sitting on their cots cleaning their rifles. We had finally made it clear that they were expected to clean their weapons daily as our Marines do. Suddenly I heard a muffled bang.
A few of us rushed over to see what had happened and the Iraqis immediately tried to block our way and explain that everything was just fine. One of their soldiers was still sitting on his cot with his back to us. We got through and looked at the soldier, somehow this guy had managed to shoot himself in the hand with a pistol he had acquired somewhere.
Immediately the call of �Corpsman up!� went out. Marines who had just lay down to rest after a patrol jumped up to see what the commotion was and the calls of �Doc, doc!� were getting loud.
�Settle down!� the 1stSgt yelled, �Everything is under control. Stay where you are so we can work.�
The senior corpsman called for his medbag and started working on the wounded Iraqi. All this while the CO is talking to the ING Platoon Sergeant, through our interpreter, about what happened. We don�t see the officers much, just to drop off a new platoon every 4 or 5 days, and they never stay out with their soldiers. We don�t know where the soldier got his pistol, it wasn�t issued to him, so we took it away to turn over to the ING Captain later.
We called Bn and informed them of what happened; they asked us if we could transport the wounded man to the ING compound in Mahmudiya. We started to put together a motorized patrol for the drive in. By now the bandages were on and the Iraqi was asking for something to relieve the pain. The corpsman asked the CO for permission to give him an ampoule of morphine and he agreed. Once this was relayed to the Iraqi he was visibly relieved.
�Tell him he has to have the shot in his dick for it to work,� the CO told the interpreter. Trying to hold back his laughter he complied.
�Laa, laa,� the soldier said emphatically. �Laa� is Arabic for �No�, there was no way he wanted the morphine now.
Trying to hold back our laughter we tried to explain we were just joking. Perhaps our humor at his suffering was a little coarse, he was obviously shaken by the initial comment and our laughter. It didn�t help that about 5 of the Iraqi�s buddies were hanging around laughing by now, I�m sure certain words go beyond most language barriers. I�m also pretty sure his buddies were telling him it would make his penis fall off. Finally we got him to agree to the shot, in the leg, as directed. Unfortunately the first ampoule failed to inject so the doc pulled another out and started to prep it.
�Laa, laa,� the Iraqi said again.
He thought we were trying to kill him by giving him a second shot. More time wasted trying to explain that the first one didn�t work. By this time our patrol is mounted up and waiting for us to get the marksman loaded up. About this time the ING Platoon Commander pulled up with another squad to take the wounded man back to their compound. Our CO had a quick talk with the captain and we let them go. While the wounded man was being loaded up his pals were making crying and sheep-like noises at him. We got a good kick out of that also.
After the situation settled down we took a good look at the area. The bullet had skipped off the asphalt and the skip mark was pointed right at where I had been sitting. We saw our marksman friend a few days ago, he is doing well, but his friends keep on making crying noises around him. I guess that type of humor transcends militaries.
