Rules of Engagement: Part 1
It was just after 9-11 when Hart Viges joined the Army and the start of the occupation when he entered Iraq in March 2003. As a mortar man, he had his first taste of what he calls the loss of humanity that comes with war, when he helped set up rounds aimed at civilian neighborhoods in a small town on the way to Baghdad. He felt his humanity further slipping away when he fell into the habit of labeling everything with the racist epithet, "hadji." His testimony includes stories of raids on the wrong houses, which resulted in prolonged detention of innocent people, and his refusal to pose for a photo with a dead Iraqi man found lying in the road, not because he was disturbed by the death, but because it wasn't his kill. Later, he found a moment of clarity in the midst of chaos. Training his gun site on the face of a man standing in a doorway with an RPG strapped to his back, he saw an expression of fear and confusion that he understood to mirror his own. He didn't pull the trigger.
 Clifton Hicks and Steve Casey testify about their experiences in a "free-fire zone" where there were supposedly "no friendlies." But Hicks and Casey never saw any enemy combatants. In November, 2003, according to Hicks, an AC-130 gunship opened fire on an apartment complex, completely destroying it as Casey and his comrades watched and cheered from a nearby roof. Casey didn’t think about it at the time, but now the loss of civilian life truly bothers him.
Hicks says this building demolition was the most destructive act he'd ever seen, and the building was not a legitimate military target. A sniper team could have neutralized the enemy sporadically firing from that location, but leadership chose to destroy the building and the civilians inside.
Casey also shows a video of a house raid in which GIs destroyed the contents of a house while a woman shrieked, only to find out they were at the wrong house. He says he is not indicting those he served with. It was the result of the environment they were in.
Steven Mortillo arrived in Iraq in March, 2004, in the Army. He spent most of his time conducting "presence patrols", walking down the street waiting for something to go wrong. One time, his squad was attacked and could not return fire due to the angle of the Bradley weapon system. They fired warning shots into a wall to prevent any more action. That day, they showed remarkable restraint, but that changed once they started taking casualties.
On a dismounted patrol in December, Mortillo's squad came under fire. The fighting was intense. They evacuated their wounded platoon leader into a waiting Bradley. The enraged Bradley crew directed all their firepower at the area the attack had come from, a densely populated residential neighborhood. According to Mortillo, it is difficult even to know whether you are following the Rules Of Engagement in the thick of the action, especially when you believe you are avenging the death of a friend.
Jesse Hamilton, who'd been in the Army since 1998, was entirely against the war when he signed up to go and serve as an advisor to the newly formed Iraqi army. But the Arabic speaker wanted to do what he could to expedite the war's end. Hamilton found untrained Iraqi soldiers who often resorted to "spray and pray" techniques in which they would shoot indiscriminately and hope it hit their target, and who would abuse their prisoners. "It is a lost cause in Iraq," says Hamilton.
Adam Kokesh did not agree with the war, but he volunteered to serve in Iraq to "do the right thing" and "clean up our mess." He was in Fallujah shortly after the four Blackwater contractors were killed. In that city, the rules of engagement were always changing.
During the siege of Fallujah, fires broke out and Iraqi firefighters and police raced to the scene. US forces saw their silhouettes in the area from which they had taken fire and started shooting. Miscommunication was often the cause of scenes like this.
Kokesh's unit was told Al Zarqawi was fleeing the city in a Black Opal and to stop all black Opals . . . black Opals were everywhere in Iraq.
He testifies that all the detainees, guilty or innocent, get treated the same, which leads more and more "innocent" ones to join the insurgency.
 Jason Hurd, a self-described Tennessee mountain man, spent ten years in the Army and National Guard. He enlisted after high school, though his father, a Marine in WWII, objected. Hurd says of his father, "He was one of the most war-mongering, gun-loving people you could ever meet," but he didn't want his son to enlist because he knew firsthand the psychological toll war takes on its warriors. Hurd spent his year in Iraq in central Baghdad as a medic, sometimes doing meet-and- greets with the local population, but he didn't escape the shooting and bombardment of civilian targets, which he describes in his testimony. He tells of an incident that took place while he was guarding a checkpoint. Car bombs were an ever-present danger, he says, so when a car kept approaching, despite his escalating signals to stop, he raised his gun and was about to fire at the driver. Suddenly, a man appeared and got the car to turn around. An old woman, highly-respected in the community, emerged. "I am a peaceful person," Hurd says, "but I drew down on an 80-year-old woman who could not see me." He attests to the harassment and disruption of Iraqi lives that he says happens - and continues to haunt him - daily.
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