This is, for now, the last edition of the Letters from Iraq series.

As my time in Baghdad comes to close, there are many images which will likely never leave my mind.

The young male officer from South Africa, armed to the teeth, a veteran of previous wars and conflicts, rarely phased by anything around him, but telling his mother he was not in Baghdad because he did not want her to worry.

The old Iraqi whom had run a cafe in the same location since mid 1970, the cafe a bombed out shell, the cooking stove bruised and battered, but still preparing tea and breakfast foods, serving me hot tea with the question "You want good tea today Mister?"

The probably 19 year old American Marine, sitting in a heavily armored vehicle, holding onto a machine gun turret which to me looks like could stop several tanks, eyes me with suspicion. I can't help but wonder if a look of concern, fear, wondering why a civilian is even here, wondering when or
if he will go home?

Speaking with a female officer telling me about the stress and fear she experiences on a nearly daily basis, but also basically unfazed by the car bomb which explodes while we talk, shaking the building and rattling the windows.

The bright, articulate, lady whom lived through her own war in her home country, to immigrate to the U.S. and now finds herself in another war in Iraq, how can she not wonder if the world will ever make sense. Me trying to send an email home to my daughter, but the gunfire was too loud and
getting too nervous to sit still, I opted to get up and pace around and find other souls with the same thoughts/concerns as I.

The barely teenage Iraqi, normally working the Baghdad version of a Kwik Trip, whom did not show up to open his store during the last two days I was there, and no one knew where he was at.

More letters from Iraq

The people of Iraq are interesting. Many work here on the compound in a variety of positions. Some were previously employed here prior to the war, some since the war. It is rather sad to hear the man working as a translator was previously a college professor but can no longer teach now. He described to me the University is technically still open but most of the faculty and students are too frightened to attend. Then last night I heard the militia again attacked the University and killed more staff. I have not had a chance to talk with him yet today.

The people working here are generally friendly. Most greet me with "Hello Mister". I respond back, or sometimes first, Kafahoulek (which basically means How are you today and is a standard greeting). They are a poor people, most wear the same clothes each day. Some of the men have suits, but seem also to wear the same everyday. The clothes are clean and well cared for. Self pride in a land of chaos. I know food is limited, especially milk. Gasoline seems generally plentiful, but the gas stations are apparently run by the militias and present risks for the citizens each time the fill up. Still seems to be a number of cars, not in good shape but run well and I have heard there is a thriving and fairly efficient underground market for auto supplies.

I watch the workers here at times. The living quarters here were once probably nice but now quite run down. I have heard many say the decay began to be very bad about 10 years ago, with the war adding more. Interestingly, most of the Iraqi's, and staff whom have been here for awhile, very clearly point out, the first two years after the war, life was relatively stable and improving. the last two years, things have gotten much worse. Many theories.

From my friend in Iraq, the links I added myself

I was awaken a few nights ago by an odd combination of sounds. The first was a rooster crowing, although it was not yet day light. A relatively normal sound but overlayed was the sound of helicopters and machine gun fire. A combination of sounds that just really should not be.

Many of the officers here are "third country nationals". The U.S. and Britain are first country, other countries with actual military units here are second country. Third country then are those here with no formal military presence but supplying private security officers and contractors. (I believe that is the set up).

Everyone is badged and ID'd. Several from South Africa and New Zealand. The New Zealanders refer to themselves as "Kiwis" after their native bird. (Maori natives from New Zealand have a unique custom with each other of shaking hands while touching forehead to forehead). A complete melting pot. I have been impressed though as these officers are educated, experienced, friendly, well spoken, and quite honor bound. They are here to work hard and accomplish a task. Hearing of their own countries plights and pluses has been an experience.

Americans have a very centric view of themselves, Americans/we
are clearly not the only "civilized" people but we may be some of the more unrealistic. I also noticed passing through one checkpoint, the Gurkha tribesman manning that checkpoint are some of the most respected and feared fighters in the world; as has been the case for centuries.

The world is a complex place, in many ways and definitely more so than any previous conflict, played out in the stage of Baghdad. Sitting in the parking area of one major crossroads point, easily officers from 20-30 countries pass through every hour. An experience and an education.

Interestingly enough a good friend of mine just went to Iraq. He agreed to supply me with a few updates during his time there, which I will post on this blog. This will be his thoughts, as a civilian, of what he sees and feels during his stay in Iraq.

IrnBru001,

Just thought I would drop you a note to say hello.

Life in downtown Baghdad is quite interesting. The base is kind of a tense place but functioning like it is suppose to I guess. The contrasts here, well the best word is surreal. As an example, driving in from the Baghdad airport to the base, wearing body armor and a helmet, riding in this heavily armed convoy of 4 vehicles, each vehicles with rifles pointing out the windows and the lead has a machine gun pointing out the back, driving through bombed and destroyed roads and buildings: then seeing on the side of the road an Iraqi woman walking holding hands with a small child and a man riding a bicycle with her (which made the officers in the convoy nervous), apparently just trying to live in the middle of chaos. Just doesn't seem to fit together, which I guess is the definition of surreal. An image I probably will not soon forget.

Overall, my role is going well, and I am staying safe.