The Snake Eaters by Owen West

Author:Owen West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Free Press

On his first patrol, on March 24, Alex expected the hundreds of loiterers to suddenly turn into crazed zombies like he had seen in movies. Instead, the young soldier Neary paraded through a fawning crowd. All the locals knew exotic Yusef, whose Arabic was so good the rumor was he hailed from Kirkuk.

Major Mohammed rolled his eyes at the scene. But then he said seriously, “It was not like this even two months ago. The people know us by name, and they know what we do.”

A shaken old woman approached Mohammed. “My son is missing!” she said.

“I will find him, Mother, if it is God’s wish,” Mohammed told her.

“He is my only boy, saydi. He must come back to me,” the woman replied.

Mohammed formed the patrol into search teams to find the boy. Alex asked him if he had permission from the Americans to change the original plan, which was to look for IEDs. He thought Mohammed would extinguish his cigarette on his tongue.

“This is more important than finding another IED,” Mohammed said, cutting him short. “And never again question me, child.”

A jundi found the missing boy playing in the Christian neighborhood. Major Mohammed walked the most densely populated route back to the child’s house for maximum effect, and after a gentle scolding delivered him to his mother, who was waiting on the street. A bystander warned Mohammed not to take the same route back to the ASP, because an ambush awaited. Other men gave similar warnings and pointed out a specific house. Mohammed tapped his chest as a sign of sincere thanks and charged into the house with his men.

A young man made a dash for the back door. He was corralled by the jundis, who dragged the suspect across the marble foyer and propped his chin on a cement step. Another jundi handed Mohammed a video camera and a box of fresh shotgun shells. Mohammed sucked the back of his teeth and pressed Rewind. On the tiny video screen were three men, including the suspect, ranting about Shiites.

The jundi charged with guarding the front door leaned back inside the house to catch a glimpse of the video. Boz grabbed his shoulder and cursed the jundi until he was down on one knee. Alex was stunned by the American’s profanity, unsure what to translate. Mohammed rendered his dilemma moot by slapping the jundi.

“Maybe they’ll figure out how to pull proper security if we stick ’em in the guard towers when they’re not out patrolling,” Boz suggested as punishment.

“The vehicles have made them lazy,” said Mohammed. “We’ll walk home.”

Boz laughed. “That’s even better.”

The column plodded up ASP Hill even as the prisoner rode in the Humvee’s backseat, guarded by Alex. The weakest jundis fell back near the crest of the hill, where the wind didn’t blow and the dust was thickest. Boz and Mohammed could be heard cheering on the hacking laggards like sheepdogs.

“You ever hear of good cop, bad cop?” Huss asked Alex. “It’s a game American police play where one cop acts mean to drive the bad guy into the arms of the good cop.

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