Mercenary Mum: My Journey from Young Mother to Baghdad Bodyguard (14 page)

ONCE AGAIN I
rostered on at the commissioners’ building and once again I was designated the leader. It seemed as though it would be a day like any other in the Green Zone. We picked up our clients from their homes without a hitch. We transported them safely to work, and we discussed their itineraries for the day. Number One had a meeting in the morning, and that was it. I was aware that a visitor was due to arrive later in the morning to speak to our clients, but not much information about it had been released.

All the commissioners’ offices were located in the same part of the building. Our security desk was set up near its entrance to ensure that only people with the appropriate level of access could enter. I was sitting at the checkpoint with another teammate when a man named Bob turned up at our station. Bob had once been a member of our team, but had switched to another project within the same company so that he could run building security.

I said hello to him and asked him what was new. He replied that sniffer dogs would be coming through this part of the building shortly, and that I was to let them through without any questions. Obviously something was up. I asked him why they were coming through, but he would not tell me. I asked him if it had something to do with the expected visitor, but he would not answer.

By this stage Bob was pissing me off. If there was someone important visiting my clients, I needed to know about it. If there was a threat against the visitor, I needed to know about it, as my clients would be exposed to the same threat when they met up. Bob was being a prick and wouldn’t tell me anything. In fact, he started being quite condescending towards me. I told him to pull his head in and to start working with us as a team. We were both part of the same company and we were both concerned with the safety of our clients within the building. We were the commissioners’ close protection team, so we needed to know what he knew.

I was in charge of the clients today. If anything happened to them, it would be my arse that’d be kicked. I told Bob to rack off back to the hole he had crawled out of. I then made some calls and got Cat to come down to sort out the problem. Within half an hour, I had found out what was going on. UK prime minister Tony Blair would be visiting my clients later that morning.

With that knowledge, I made sure that our security protocols were well and truly in place. I briefed each member of my team on the situation and highlighted the importance of secrecy concerning the visit. Number One had to attend a meeting, with 51-50 escorting him, before Blair arrived. I was clear that they were to return as quickly as possible, as Number One was scheduled to welcome the prime minister.

Time ticked on. Some of the UN workers who knew of the visit were getting excited and restless. I looked at my watch: Blair would be here in twenty minutes. I called 51-50 and told him to bring Number One back straightaway. He said that Number One was on stage giving a presentation to an audience. I told 51-50 to slip him a note, telling him it was time to go.

Five minutes later, I still had not heard from 51-50. I called him again. This time he told me that Number One was still on the stage talking, despite being handed a note saying that the prime minister of Britain was arriving shortly. This is the sort of situation that earns a leader their pay packet. I paused for a second before telling 51-50 to escort him off the stage immediately. I told him to be as gentle and inconspicuous as possible, but that he was to remove him from the stage and get him here ASAP.

I said to 50-51 that I would take whatever heat came down as a result of forcing Number One to curtail his speech. What choice did I have? Either I could get him back on time, or let him continue and miss the visit completely, which would have resulted in a loss of face for all the electoral commissioners.

So, imagine if you can, Vin Diesel’s doppelganger ‘discreetly’ escorting the head of the country’s electoral commission off a stage. It must have been quite a sight.

Number One was brought back into the office a full minute before the prime minister arrived to shake his hand and exchange a few polite words. Blair’s entourage and other VIPs, including high-ranking UN officials and Iraqi government members, had also entered our building. Each VIP was accompanied by their own close protection team, and suddenly our secure area was teeming with visitors. Then my team leaders and even some of the company’s head shed turned up.
Word gets around quickly
, I thought
.
It was typical that they couldn’t give a rat’s about anything we did on a daily basis with our clients, but the moment a VIP was on the scene, they couldn’t keep away.

Tony Blair left as quickly as he’d arrived. Number One confirmed to me that he was not annoyed that he had been pulled away from his speech. In fact, he was grateful. I was pretty pleased with the way things ran despite all the commotion, and the guys I was working with did a superb job.

It was Christmas Eve. The company house had a landline phone that the team were permitted to use to call home, but gaining access to it proved difficult. Every time I made the walk over the house, there would always be a queue of other teams lined up waiting to use it. It was just before Christmas that my team was allocated a mobile phone, which meant I was finally able to talk to Kane, rather than send him emails for his dad to read out. It was wonderful. He was really talkative and very excited about Santa coming. We talked about presents, games and everything he was going to do for the holidays. I wasn’t due back home until January, but I planned to spoil him rotten when I returned.

Kane then told me that I was getting a present from Santa too. He told me Santa had a letter for me and that it was going to arrive in time for Christmas. I choked back a sob. Bruce must have sent a card from Kane several weeks ago. The postal service here was slow and unpredictable. It was more likely to arrive early next month. I hoped it came before I left for home.

I missed my little boy so much. I couldn’t wait to hold him close. I wanted to play fighting games with him on my bed, just as we used to. I wanted to wrestle him to the ground and tickle him until he cried. After a sad goodbye, I went and had a quiet moment to myself.

*

That night, there was an informal barbecue to celebrate Christmas Eve. The most delicious steaks were cooked on the barbie and a couple of drinks were also consumed. I had to work the next day so I didn’t have a late one. During the course of the evening I met Lizard, the country manager from another security firm. I was surprised when, not long into our conversation, he told me he wanted me working for his company.

I was flattered by the job offer, but declined. I still had to finish this contract and did not want to desert the company that gave me my first break in the industry. Lizard understood my reasons, but told me that the offer was good for when I finished up this contract. I wasn’t even sure if I’d be taking up another contract at all. Even so, I was amazed at how relieved I felt, knowing that I now had an out if I needed one.

“
MERRY CHRISTMAS
!” Jeep woke me up early Christmas morning by standing over me and shouting excitedly. I rolled out of bed, grinning. I loved Christmas. Silver came into the room and they both handed me a present. It was a DVD: season two of
Star Trek: The Next Generation
. They knew I was a bit of a Trekkie and loved that series especially. I kissed them both and thanked them profusely. I then pulled out the presents I had bought for them. I had got them a Leatherman set of pocket tools each. I had their call-sign names engraved on them, to give it a personal touch.

After the exchange of presents, I got dressed for work. It was disappointing to be rostered on for Christmas Day, but I had no choice. It was just an ordinary day on the local calendar so it was work as usual. Blade, Wolf, 51-50 and I trudged off to pick up the clients, while the rest of the team geared up for a big Christmas party at the company’s headquarters. They were putting on a delicious-sounding lunch, complete with turkey, roast potatoes and alcohol.

It was late afternoon by the time we dropped off the clients at their homes. We arrived back at the team house, but it was deserted. Everyone was still at the other house partying. I had a shower and got changed. As I turned to leave, I noticed there was a letter sitting on my bed. I couldn’t believe it: Kane’s Christmas letter had arrived. I opened it up and a photo of Kane with Santa fell out onto the floor.
Wow, he has grown!
I wiped a tear from eye as I read his card. I would have to tell Kane that Santa had dropped off the card to me on Christmas Day.

I stuck up the photo on the wall near my bed, and joined the rest of the team at the Christmas party. By the time I arrived, the food was all gone but the alcohol was still flowing freely.

The party was in full swing. Swamp was wearing a gorilla suit, something he had brought with him after returning from leave. He was dancing about, with everyone cheering him on. Baloo had wrapped black plastic bags around his whole body, including his head, and had cut out little holes for his eyes and mouth. He placed a Christmas hat on his head, calling himself ‘Mr Christmas Garbage Bag Man’. To me, he looked like Mr Hankey, the Christmas Poo, from
South Park
.

After a few vodka Red Bulls, I stopped drinking. Blade had broken the bad news that we were rostered on at the commissioners’ workplace the next day – again. What the hell had happened to the roster system? The same people day in, day out were put on the picquets. We had missed out on the Christmas celebrations. It didn’t seem fair that we’d have to work Boxing Day too. I wouldn’t let it ruin my night, though.

Jeep pulled me over, wrapped his arms around me drunkenly, and started to serenade me. I joined in with him and together we belted out Evanescence songs. He passed me a beer. I shook my head, telling him that I couldn’t drink, as I had to work in the morning.

“No!” Jeep yelled. “I’ll get Team America to do it.” By that, he meant 51-50, Blade and Wolf. Jeep was American, but he considered himself to be different from those guys. He thought of himself as a cut above them.

“They don’t drink anyway. They’ll do the job again tomorrow,” he said, slurring a bit now. I tried to tell him that I was part of their team and was committed to working in the morning, but Jeep wouldn’t hear of it. He wanted me to stay and drink with him. Within five minutes he’d changed the roster and allocated my position to Outpatient.

I felt about two inches tall. Jeep had used his power as the team leader to get his friend – me – out of having to do a job. It was wrong. I couldn’t face myself let alone anyone else knowing that my ‘connections’ in the team were getting me a better ride than others.

I left shortly afterwards and told Outpatient that I would do the job. As it turned out he genuinely wanted to do the shift, but I still felt a bit dirty. I didn’t return to the party that night, and, instead, went to bed. Things were getting sticky now, and I wasn’t sure how long I could handle it.

Boxing Day arrived and with it a new and exciting task. A small team was needed to fly to Kirkuk by Black Hawk helicopter with some of our clients. The elections were only a month away and things were heating up. The team would be leaving on New Year’s Day. I put up my hand for the job straightaway. Dr Evil, Outpatient and Blade put themselves forward too. Our names and passport details were immediately given to the US military. Dr Evil was told he’d been designated leader, and the rest of us would be his team.

We were taken aback. Recently the command staff (including the desk-bound project manager) had been putting themselves on these types of missions at the expense of us worker bees. In fact, a small team was due to leave with a couple of clients for Basra in southern Iraq the following day, and team members had been kicked off the trip so that all the leaders could go. There had been a lot of resentment. Not only did the leaders forgo rotations at the commissioners’ workplace, they put themselves on every ‘cool guy’ mission that came up.

So it was odd that none of them had wanted in on the Kirkuk mission. I later found out the reason: a huge party had been planned for New Year’s Eve. Anyone going on the trip to Kirkuk would not be able to drink themself into a stupor the night before.

A couple of days passed, and the leaders returned from their trip to Basra. They’d had a shit of a time. The two clients had not behaved well. When the team arrived in Basra, they had to conduct a quick recon of all the places the clients were going to visit. They needed to know where the meetings would be taking place, what the security requirements were and whether the venues were safe. By the time they got back from the recon, the clients had completely changed their plan. The recon was a wasted task.

Both clients were put up in VIP accommodation at the British Consulate. They were even given a general’s room: the best digs in the house. The clients proceeded to drink all the wine in the fridge. Who knows what was in the wine, but it made the clients seriously regress. They jumped on the bed until it broke. They ran up and down the hallway screaming. There was a cake in the general’s fridge, which was left over from a birthday party; the clients stuffed their faces with the entire thing. And still they carried on. At one stage, another general burst into their room and yelled at them to behave themselves. The next morning, the clients – and our team – were evicted.

The following night, the clients were forced to sleep in a tent at a British military camp. Unhappy with their new quarters, they complained until they were given a large metal Conex container to sleep in, along with stretcher beds and sleeping-bags. After having their demands met, they promptly fell asleep. The rest of the team was not so lucky. They were ordered by the military to conduct security picquets on the clients all night to ensure they did not get up to any more trouble. It was the price the team had to pay to remain within the safe confines of a military establishment.

The boys were cranky when they got back. Jeep was yelling and cursing about the clients and all the command staff had the shits. The rest of us ‘left-over’ members had a quiet chuckle to ourselves. To top things off, our Kirkuk trip was postponed by a couple of days, meaning we could have a few drinks on New Year’s Eve after all.

On the eve of the mission, I was told to borrow an M-4 weapon from another team member. The promised M-4s had still not arrived, but the company brass wanted us to look as professional as possible during the trip to Kirkuk. Some guys, tired of waiting for the elusive company weapons to arrive, had purchased their own through the local ‘weapon network’.

The weapon network was like any other buy and swap system you’d find back home. The only difference was that you were dealing with guns and ammunition. If you needed a specific weapon or weapon attachment, then you’d put the word out, and certain key people from around the Green Zone would source what you needed. AK-47s were very easy to obtain, as they were a dime a dozen in Iraq. Weapons like M-4s and other machine guns were a little more difficult as they had to be imported from other countries – usually the US. The supply and demand of a particular weapon determined its price, and from there you’d barter it down as far as you could.

I was very dubious about using a weapon I had not zeroed or test-fired myself. My AK-47 might have been an antique, but at least I could trust it. I knew it worked, I knew it was zeroed, and I knew it had been well looked after due to my daily cleaning ritual. To use somebody else’s weapon was unwise. In the end, I just did as I was told and borrowed the M-4.

I gathered all my kit together. I packed food, water, a borrowed map and a compass. I packed a small medical kit and put my radio on charge. It was only going to be a daytrip and all meals were provided, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. If the chopper went down, I had to have enough food and water to get me by. I’d need my map and compass if I were to get myself back to a safe place.

It was then time to run myself through some M-4 drills. It was not a weapon I had used frequently. I grabbed Spitfire, and he took me through the specifics. I practised over and over again, until I was confident I could use it properly. I thanked Spitfire for helping me out and continued doing some training alone.

The next morning we were up early. Our helicopter was due to fly out at 7.30 a.m. Before then, we had to eat, get our orders, pick up the clients and get to the landing zone. We arrived with plenty of time to spare. As usual, the Black Hawks were delayed, and we had to ‘hurry up and wait’. While we hung about, we watched all sorts of people come and go. There were representatives from the Red Cross, the UN and other aid agencies. Some of them wanted a photo taken with me, as if I were a freak. They wanted to know who I was and what I was doing in Iraq. One woman even wanted me to change over to the company that was providing protection for her. They only employed men and they inhibited her work. She often had to talk to Muslim women in areas that were not safe, but she wasn’t allowed to take her male bodyguards with her as they were culturally inappropriate. I thanked her and shook her hand, but explained that her timing was not the best.

The Black Hawk eventually arrived. Then we were off. As the helicopter rose into the air, I felt a deep stirring in the pit of my stomach. I was excited, but also on edge. As we rose into the air, I looked down at the Green Zone.
So that’s what Baghdad looks like from up here.

We began to head out. That’s when I saw the real Iraq. We passed over Haifa Street, the deadliest road in Baghdad. It was a no-go zone, unless you had a death wish. There were bombings and killings on an almost daily basis there. In fact, the checkpoint leading to that area from the Green Zone is called Assassin’s Gate. Haifa Street was chock-a-block full of people and cars. Traffic was at a standstill, and people were walking all around the marketplace.

I hoped we were high enough to avoid any anti-aircraft missiles, but knew we were not. We were close enough to the ground to clearly see people on their roofs. Gradually, we moved higher into the air and further north until eventually we were out of the city altogether. The terrain then changed to sandy embankments alternating with perfect rows of crops.

As I enjoyed the view, I began to mull over possible ‘what ifs’. Could I survive the fall if the Black Hawk went down? If I so, then what? In my head, I began to go over my ‘actions on’ if anything happened. First aid, security, navigational bearings, water, clients, teammates, and so on. Over and over I played scenarios through my head. Eventually, I gave up and just relaxed into the trip.

It only took about an hour to get to Kirkuk. Landing inside a secure compound, I could see many officials awaiting our arrival. Immediately, we prepared ourselves. When it was safe to disembark from the chopper, the aircrew helped the clients out and we followed close behind. There we were, one hell of a professional-looking team, with all the gear, guns and attitude to match. I had my M-4 by my side and wore a tough-guy expression on my face.

Outpatient had also borrowed an M-4 and was looking pretty slick with all his kit on. As he stepped out of the chopper, he tripped and landed flat on his face. The barrel of his M-4 went straight into the clay landing-zone platform. I helped him up, trying to hide my huge grin, and we continued on. There was another private security team watching our every move, and they had a little chuckle over Outpatient’s fall.
There goes our reputation!

We followed the regional security officer (RSO), who led us to a tent. This was where the meeting would take place with the clients. The RSO informed us that, as this was a secure compound, there was no need to worry about the place being stormed by insurgents.

All visitors attending the meeting would be screened at the entrance to the compound. While the clients were discussing the elections, they would be protected by the integral security arrangements already in place. After dropping off the clients, we were taken to the food hall for a late lunch. This certainly hadn’t been one of my what-if scenarios, and I was enjoying myself.

We returned to the tent where the clients were having their meeting, and waited around for them to finish. It was a long day. We didn’t end up leaving until midnight. As we flew home, the chill in the air grew more intense. It was nearly two in the morning before we arrived back at the team house.

Dr Evil told us we could sleep in and have the day off. He told us that we’d done a good job and should be proud of ourselves. I was exhausted. It didn’t take me long to curl up in my bed and get comfortable. Just before I drifted off, I felt a little jolt of electricity as I remembered:
tomorrow we’re getting a new team member
. I couldn’t wait. I was finally going to have a partner in crime. We were getting another girl on the team.