| The forgotten war of the
North
With the world's attention on southern
Iraq, US special forces and rag-tag peshmerga began advancing
slowly towards Mosul and Kirkuk. This is a report from their
front line. By Julius Strauss near Kirkuk.
8 April 2003
"225 DEGREES incoming," the American special forces
soldier shouted. The men in his unit grabbed their guns and
flattened themselves against the concrete wall of the Hasar
television transmitter station.
A few seconds passed and an Iraqi heavy mortar shell exploded
with a shattering crack 100 yards to our right. A minute later
and another shell came crashing in, this time closer. Then
another came and another, more than a dozen altogether.
"Assholes," muttered Chuck, from Massachusetts.
He ran over to the radio transmitter. "Under constant
artillery barrage at this time," he said. "Don't
know what you guys are pushing our way."
Since the war began three weeks ago attention has focussed
on southern Iraq, where allied armour columns have slugged
it out with Iraqi formations.
But here in the north, a small forgotten war is also unfolding
as coalition forces steadily close in on the strategic cities
of Mosul and Kirkuk. The pace of advance is slower and the
casualty tolls lower.
But the Iraqis are clearly on the back foot, battered senseless
by remorseless American bombing and demoralised by harrying
raids by the Kurdish peshmerga (guerrillas).
The fact that the allies have produced a northern front at
all is a minor miracle. Hamstrung by Turkey's unwillingness
to allow United States armoured deployment, they have relied
on tiny teams of under-equipped special forces and a rag-tag
Kurdish alliance.
We arrived on this front-line last Friday just as the attack
on the village of Hasar, 10 miles from Kirkuk, was getting
under way.
Officials from the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, one of two
parties which control this area, have closed the frontline
to journalists, but we slipped through on forgotten stony
tracks used by smugglers.
In Dobizna, a tiny hamlet, US special forces were holed up
on the roof of a shattered building calling in co-ordinates
for the bombers high overhead.
Peshmerga and looters were milling around waiting for the
chance to move forward.
That afternoon we travelled with them as they seized control
of Hasar, a small settlement two miles down the road.
There was no organised advance, they simply roared off down
the road Afghan-style in a dozen Toyota pick-ups bristling
with guns.
The Iraqis fled across the fields, but as the peshmerga tried
to advance beyond Hasar they were met with machinegun fire
that sent them diving for cover.
To keep up with the advance we moved into an abandoned Arab
house in Hasar. A Libyan AK47 and a 9mm Tariq pistol lay close
as we slept, protection against the armed looters and rabid
dogs that scour this area.
Opposite, a Communist militia had moved into a mud house and
put up a red flag. The base of the Social Democratic Party,
fierce-looking peshmerga who pride themselves on being first
in and last out, was flying with a blue flag.
Nearby yellow and green flags marked the camps of the PUK
and KDP fighters, foot soldiers of the two largest Kurdish
parties, who were squabbling over a looted petrol tanker.
There was little co-ordination between the different factions
and each advance down the road seemed to come sporadically,
and often following mealtimes.
When the peshmerga finally seized the television transmitter
station a mile down the road, the Iraqis began to shell it
with mortar and tank-fire.
Other fighters raced up to the shattered building to reinforce
its defences. The Americans went too. Between the incoming
rounds the American soldiers gazed through binoculars at the
Iraqi positions, but the thick haze, the result of burning
oil trenches, made it all but impossible to see them.
The Americans became frustrated. One soldier barked into
the radio: "The B52 took out the tank. But they're still
shooting us up."
An hour later the bombers finally arrived. The Iraqi guns
finally fell silent. The Allies are undoubtedly winning the
war of the north, but progress is painfully slow. |