Rusty’s pirate stories get wilder and weirder as the night goes on at the annual Benz-Edge Tree Desecration party. Here he tells Greg and Janet about an incident in the South Seas involving Absinthe, 15 Peruvian midgets and several puffy shirts. Needless to say, a good time was had by all.
During a recent layover en route to Albuqueruqe, I’m sitting at the food court in the E concourse of the Atlanta airport, wolfing down a burger while a man in a suit plays Christmas carols on a piano amid throngs of somber business travelers and military men in fatigues. There’s something horribly morose and sad about the scene, and all I can do is hope those soldiers are heading home and not overseas …
I just finished Rory Stewart’s “The Prince of Marshes And Other Occupational Hazards of a Year in Iraq.” It’s a sobering account of the year he spent in Amara and Nasiriyah in 2003. Even then, it was clear things were going badly. Stewart isn’t someone who opposes the Coalition’s work in Iraq. He’s an optimist who is working in the Coalition to try to bring democracy to the country. But his account makes it clear what a long-shot that effort was (and is).
Particularly damning is his description of the Italian troops in Iraq. He portrays them as ineffective and even cowardly, more concerned with politics and self-preservation than getting the job done. The coalition of the willing definitely looks like the coalition of the coerced here.
In a strange encounter, one that harkens back to a scene from The Places in Between, he talks to one of the Iraqis who was among the Sadrists that laid siege to his compound five weeks earlier.
“We will miss you. … You are our hero,” the Iraqi tells him as Stewart prepares to leave the country.
“What are you talking about, Asad — why were you firing mortars and trying to kill me five weeks ago?”
“Ah, Seyyed Rory,” he replied with a grin. “that was nothing personal.”
