where the line met the door, there was a huge chip in the cement. The top of the front door was intact but the bottom was gone.
A group of women sat to one side in the shade of a tree. They were cutting up strips of cloth and rolling them into small bundles. Ahmed went over and spoke to them. One of the women turned and pointed to a low building about fifty yards away. There was writing on the walls and a circle that looked like some kind of logo.
âBirdy, go with him,â Captain Coles said as Ahmed started for the building.
âBirdy?â I was surprised. âThatâs my official name now?â
Captain Coles laughed and checked out my name tape. â Perry , go with him,â he said.
I caught up with Ahmed, who told me that the local chief owned the store we were headed toward.
âYou understand everything they say?â I asked.
âJust about,â Ahmed said. âBut the woman back there pretended she didnât understand anything I said.â
âThey donât like us over here, I guess.â
âNo, it just means that they donât trust us,â Ahmed said. âWhatever else we deal with, thatâs going to be part of the picture.â
We got to the store and found a really fat man sitting beside a pile of shoe boxes. There was clothing in the small store; most ofit was American-style clothing, some Iraqi stuff. I thought about buying some Iraqi clothing and taking it back home. Mama would like that.
Ahmed started talking to the man in Arabic. The guy didnât answer. There were coins on a table near him, and as Ahmed spoke, he pushed them around with one stubby finger. Finally, after a while, Ahmed stopped talking and the man looked up at him, then away. He didnât look at Ahmed when he spoke.
I wished I knew what the guy was saying. He was very calm as he spoke, very deliberate with his words. He didnât gesture with his hands but kept pushing the coins around the table. Ahmed spoke once in a while, and his voice was low, matching the Iraqi shopkeeperâs.
âWhatâs he saying?â I asked.
âHeâs saying the mothers of the dead children donât want our money, they want their children,â Ahmed said. âI donât know if he wants me to beg him or something. I donât know.â
âAsk him if heâs refusing the money,â I said. âTell him if he is, weâll just go.â
Ahmed spoke to the guy again and he answered.
âHe wants to know if youâre my commanding officer,â Ahmed said. âI told him no and now he wants me to go get Coles.â
âYou should have told him I was your commanding officer and the most dangerous man in the army,â I said.
We went back to the Humvees. Marla, Jean, and the othernoncom woman were already with the children. Captain Miller was talking with the women.
âShe speak Arabic?â I asked Captain Coles.
âA little,â he said. âWhatâs the situation with their chief?â
âHeâs playing it cool,â Ahmed said. âHe was kind of chewing me out in a calm way. Asking me stuff like if I thought the money was going to make up for the death of the children. I didnât answer that. Now he wants to see you.â
âWhich means that heâll probably take the money,â Captain Coles said.
As we started back toward the store the guy appeared at the door. He called to some of the women and two of themâI figured they were the ones who had lost childrenâcame over.
Inside the store the man spoke to the women. Ahmed said he didnât understand what they were saying, that they had switched to a dialect he didnât know. The women started yelling at us.
âYou donât need to speak Arabic to understand what theyâre saying,â Ahmed said.
He was right. We stood there for about ten minutes while they screamed at us. One woman spit on the ground in front of my feet.
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