The Foreign Service Journal, June 2004

place to swoop in while all our fire- power was pointed in the other direction. Let me be clear: I was not enjoy- ing this. I was intensely aware that the first time in my life I had fired a handgun was in the Diplomatic Security Iraq course two months earlier. I had fired a total of maybe 40 rounds that day in West Virginia and subsequently at the firing range in Najaf. I had no illusions about my ability to hit a moving car or a con- cealed sniper with a pistol. I knew that if a carload of bad guys came zipping up the road with AKs hang- ing out the windows, the best I might manage would be to get off some rounds in the right direc- tion to alert the Salva- dorans to the threat to our rear. The wait seemed to last a very long time, and my sidearm felt very small. After maybe 15 minutes, I was relieved to see two U.S. soldiers in full battle rattle with M-16s come up and join me looking south. A couple of humvees full of Signals troops had happened upon us and stopped to help. By now, we were pretty sure the NCEs were not coming back, having lost any ardor for pursuit after Mini-Me opened up. A couple of our guys got out jacks and started to change tires. Grace, unarmed, was quite rightly still sitting in the “hard car,” complaining about not having a weapon. I asked her if she wanted to take some photos and she jumped out with my digital camera and start- ed snapping away. Then a group of vehi- cles approached at high speed from the north, weaving through the tangled mass of stopped Iraqi civilian traffic, and jumped the median to roar south in the north- bound lane. The Salvadorans drew a bead on them as they neared … but it was another party of CPA participants from the conference we’d gone to in Baghdad, on their way home to the regional base at Hilla. Their person- al security detail jumped out to strengthen the perimeter, which was now feeling quite secure. After a brief consultation, Rick, Grace and I hopped into the Hilla-bound cars for the 30-minute drive there. Only after we were on the road did I realize that Mike, Sam, Lionel and the Salvadorans were staying behind to recover the vehicles. A wave of guilt hit me, even though I knew that they hardly needed me and my sidearm to stay behind; in fact, Rick, Grace and I were distractions. 30 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 4 The Cuscatlan Battalion, based in Najaf, is the best in the Salvadoran army, as we were soon to learn. Left: The author after the ambush. Center: The group recovers at Hilla. Bottom: Checking the damage to the car. P. Kosnett G. Navas