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Shooting nearby

I am not going to send any pictures today. For one - I am not comfortable taking pictures at checkpoints. And two, it is my job as a writer to paint a portrait for you in text. Hopefully, after I am done with a posting, the portrait in your mind does not look like a Jackson Pollock painting.

For the first time in my two visits to Northern Iraq I have experienced gun fire. As always with my travels in Iraq I must remind the reader of the context of my work here. I am not a hardcore war journalist. I am a traveler - I most certainly avoid hostilities the best I can. I am a cultural writer if you wish.

Military folks, hardcore Iraq correspondents, and contractors, please forgive my digression into what you experience daily ad nauseam. But I must defer to my audience. We do not experience gun fire every day.

It has been 30 years since I was in the Combat Engineers. I am too busy to hunt. When I heard the bangs while waiting at the checkpoint this afternoon I thought, "Damn, that sounds like an AK-47" - distinct sound. When I looked up I saw a Peshmerga (Kurdish ) soldier fire a second volley of shots over a car about five cars up in the line. The soldiers wanted a couple guys to exit the departing car.

My driver did not even flinch. This is the driver I originally had second thoughts about. When I met him, his young minions were trying to rebuild his carburetor with a jack knife. He looked a couple years younger than me. He was in full Kurdish head gear. He wore bifocals. In my mind I named him "Pops." "Great," I thought, "I have been assigned an old driver with a junk car to go over the mountains. And, an old guy like this has probably never used a cell phone."

"Pops" never got under 75 miles per hour. He negotiated around truck after lumbering truck on blind mountain curves and knolls for 100 miles. He waited patiently while I was detained at three different mountain check points. He periodically used two different cell phones to stay in touch with his people. When the shooting started, he kept his cool. The truck in front of us panicked and veered into the oncoming lane further irritating the Peshmerga.

The two perps were led into the guard shack. The vehicle in question was sent on its way - no guilt by association in Kurdistan I guess. I was detained one more time for posterity sake. The soldier looked at my passport upside down. "Pops" spoke to the young soldier in quiet, calm words. The soldier smiled, "Pops" and I we were both sent on our way.

I am now in my safe hotel on down the road. Here's to you "Pops." You're a better man than I am. You have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Bob Keith
Northern Iraq