A Warm Welcome for U.S. Cools Fast (WSJ)

["Walter Lippmann" <walterlx@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

(As has been said on other occasions,
people don't like liberators who come
bearing bayonets. The impression we
are being given in the media generally
is of overwhelming military superiority
by Washington and its allies, but this
suggests just how fragile such power
really is, right at the point of victory.)
============================

April 7, 2003
PAGE ONE

In Iraqi City, a Warm Welcome
For U.S. Cools Fast After Arrest

Arrest of Favorite Imam Ignites Iraqi Mob,
Showing Delicate Balance of Local Sympathy
By MICHAEL M. PHILLIPS
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL


AN NUMANIYAH, Iraq -- In an episode that lasted just two
hours and 15 minutes, the U.S. nearly ruined a crucial
opportunity to win over Iraq's Shiite Muslims. Steered by a
tip from a Saddam Hussein loyalist, Marines raided the home
of a popular Shiite cleric in this midsize city on the
Tigris River. The action briefly ignited a mass
demonstration and threats of suicide attacks.

The confrontation carries a sobering message for American
troops now at the edge of Baghdad. Iraqi citizens greet them
a bit more warmly each day. But potential disasters remain
just one misunderstanding away. The thin line between
welcome liberator and hated invader is easy to stumble
across.

When the Marines arrived last Wednesday in this
predominantly Shiite city of less than 100,000 residents,
the Americans seemed to have stayed on the right side of the
line. They were counting on Shiites -- the nation's
majority, long-oppressed by Mr. Hussein's Sunni-dominated
Baath Party -- to welcome them. The Iraqis did at first, and
the coalition quickly took control of An Numaniya. Young men
and boys flocked to the troops, selling as souvenirs money
bearing Mr. Hussein's portrait. Locals reported where the
army had hidden weapons and where to find the few Baath
Party officials who hadn't fled.

The U.S.-led coalition's handling of Shiites has been
complicated. On Thursday, in the city of Najaf west of
Numaniya, U.S. soldiers seeking to talk with a Shiite cleric
were forced to retreat when confronted by an angry mob whose
members had been told, falsely, that the invaders were
coming to arrest the religious leader.

The seeds of a similar confrontation were planted in
Numaniya when Marines Thursday night raided four houses,
capturing 14 Baath leaders. One detainee told the troops
where they could find Said Habib, a 60-year-old Shiite imam
known for television appearances backing the regime and for
his friendship with one of Mr. Hussein's sons. Mr. Habib,
the informant said, was protected by 40 armed guards.

The next day, just before 9 a.m., troops from Lima Company,
of the Third Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment, surrounded
Mr. Habib's compound. An Army psychological-operations
Humvee, a large rotating speaker system on top, blared
warnings: Residents had five minutes to surrender. Then
four. Three. Two. One.

At zero, a tracked amphibious-assault vehicle, the words
"Monster Inc." painted on the turret, plowed through the
compound's brick wall. Marines burst through the hole into a
lush garden. They broke into the house through the kitchen,
where someone had been preparing bread and eggs on a floor
mat. A soiled Teddy bear sat in a small purple chair. A
phone rang unanswered.

Two women in black robes knelt at gunpoint. The
black-covered lump next to them turned out to be a small
girl. She sobbed, "Mama."

About 20 Iraqi men left through a rear door -- into the
waiting arms of Marines. The troops picked 11, including a
white-bearded imam in a black turban and brown robes. "Are
you Said Habib?" asked Sgt. Tim Stiffey, an Army psy-ops
specialist working with the Marines. "I am Said Habib," the
man answered.

The Marines loaded the prisoners into their vehicles. Less
than 10 minutes after the garden wall was breached, the
convoy was rumbling back to the U.S. staging point at the
city's dilapidated soccer stadium. The troops screamed "Shut
up!" in English or phrase-book Arabic at any prisoner who
spoke.

At the field, the Marines lined up the prisoners by the
goalpost, binding each man's wrists behind his back and
sticking green duct tape across his mouth.

The Americans were exultant. They felt they had found some
of the bad guys who had largely eluded them. Then they heard
that a crowd of Iraqis was forming at the main gate. First
Lt. Paul Gillikin, Lima Company's executive officer, headed
across the field to take control.

Outside the gate, dozens of men and boys sat yelling and
gesticulating angrily. One held a photo of Mr. Habib, which
many followers keep in their homes. Another, Eskander
Mohammed Abbas, a graduate student, spoke in English through
the flimsy metal gate. "All of us are against Saddam
Hussein." If Mr. Habib spoke in favor of the regime, Mr.
Abbas added, it was because refusal invited execution. He
begged to see the imam so he could reassure the crowd that
he was unharmed.

"When the crowd goes home, I'll let you in alone to see
him," 25-year-old Lt. Gillikin told Mr. Abbas. The crowd
swelled into the hundreds. People flowed in from side
streets. More photos appeared, some taken when Mr. Habib was
a young man.

The crowd of Marines grew, too. Troops spread out along the
stadium entrance, perched in trees and atop armored
vehicles. When something caught their eye -- a man with his
hands in his pockets, a duffel bag -- they aimed their guns
into the crowd.

At least one of the Marines had been in Somalia, and some
began to murmur among themselves about the bloody 1993
street fighting in Mogadishu, when the city turned on
American troops. The protesters began to chant, "Allah pray
for the prophet Mohammed and his family."

A new crowd spokesman emerged, a young man who gave only the
name Hayder, in tight blue jeans and a T-shirt. The Marines
allowed him to pass through the gate and searched him for
weapons.

"This city was so safe and sound for the last few days,"
Hayder said in lightly accented English. "People thought
you'd come and change the ways of the old regime. Now you're
doing the same things." There was talk in the crowd, Hayder
warned, of people "sacrificing themselves" to free Mr.
Habib.

A Marine intelligence team arrived with its civilian
translator, Nasir Albardi, a 23-year-old Iraqi-American cook
from Dearborn, Mich. Mr. Albardi's family left Iraq after
the Gulf War. Coincidentally, he is a Shiite follower of Mr.
Habib, so he knew of the imam's stature.

The intelligence team, who asked that their names not be
published, had the Marines pull the tape off the imam's
wrists and mouth. They offered water. He refused
indignantly. They suspected the arrest had been a mistake --
at least politically. They needed Mr. Habib's help to make
peace with the populace. The situation could soon get
violent, one intelligence Marine told the imam. Would he
speak to the crowd to calm things down?

"Are you going to let me go?" Mr. Habib responded through
Mr. Albardi. The chant from the crowd was crescendoing, and
he turned his head sharply to look. The intelligence team
told Mr. Habib one of his neighbors -- a Baath Party
member -- had said he was a regime supporter. The imam
pulled from his robe a plastic wrap containing a bundle of
frayed gray pages. "I swear on the Koran this is wrong," he
said, kissing the book, touching it to his forehead and
kissing it again.

Word came via radio that Capt. George Schreffler, the Lima
Company commander, wanted the imam released. The intel team
tried to make the best of a bad situation. "We believe the
Baath Party is trying to turn us against you, and turn your
people against us," one told Mr. Habib.

The Marines escorted Mr. Habib to the gate. He refused to
leave until all his men were released, tape marks still on
their faces. Mr. Habib took the microphone from the psy-ops
Humvee. He thanked the crowd and asked them to calm down.
"These people are here to get rid of Saddam Hussein," he
said, to the Marines' relief. "They made a mistake, and I
have not been harmed."

The crowd surged toward the gate, which the Marines opened
just enough to let out the imam and the other prisoners.

At 11:15 a.m., Mr. Habib's followers lifted him to their
shoulders and paraded him down the street. One man briefly
stayed behind, taking an Iraqi bill out of his pocket and
spitting on Saddam Hussein's portrait. He ripped the
currency, crumpled the remains and threw them between the
bars to the feet of the Marines.