“It is clear that we need to change our strategy in Iraq. … So I’ve committed more than twenty thousand additional American troops to Iraq. The vast majority of them—five brigades—will be deployed to Baghdad.”
The reaction was swift and one-sided. “I don’t believe an expansion of twenty thousand troops in Iraq will solve the problems,” one senator said. “I do not believe that sending more troops to Iraq is the answer,” said another. A third pronounced it “the most dangerous foreign policy blunder in this country since Vietnam.” And those were just the Republicans.
The left was even more outspoken. One freshman senator predicted that the surge would not “solve the sectarian violence there. In fact, I think it will do the reverse.” Capturing the view of most of his colleagues, a Washington Post columnist called it “a fantasy-based escalation of the war in Iraq, which could only make sense in some parallel universe where pigs fly and fish commute on bicycles.”
Condi, Bob Gates, and Pete Pace testified on Capitol Hill the day after I announced the surge. The questioning was brutal from both sides of the aisle. “This is the craziest, dumbest plan I’ve ever seen or heard of in my life,” one Democratic congressman told General Pace. “I’ve gone along with the president on this, and I bought into his dream,” a Republican senator told Condi. “At this stage of the game, I just don’t think it’s going to happen.” Afterward Condi came to see me in the Oval Office. “We’ve got a tough sell on this, Mr. President,” she said.
Amid the near-universal skepticism, a few brave souls defended the surge. Foremost among them were Senator Joe Lieberman of Connecticut, a lifelong Democrat who had been cast aside by his party for supporting the war; Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, a member of the Air Force Reserves; and Senator John McCain of Arizona.
McCain and I had a complex relationship. We had competed against each other in 2000, and we had disagreed on issues from tax cuts to Medicare reform to terrorist interrogation. Yet he had campaigned hard for me in 2004, and I knew he planned to run for president in 2008. The surge gave him a chance to create distance between us, but he didn’t take it. He had been a longtime advocate of more troops in Iraq, and he supported the new strategy wholeheartedly. “I cannot guarantee success,” he said. “But I can guarantee failure if we don’t adopt this new strategy.”
The most persuasive advocate of the surge was General Petraeus. As the author of the Army’s counterinsurgency manual, he was the undisputed authority on the strategy he would lead. His intellect, competitiveness, and work ethic were well known. On one of his visits home, I invited the general to mountain bike with me at Fort Belvoir, Virginia. He was mainly a runner, but he had enough confidence to accept the challenge. He held his own with the experienced riders of the presidential peloton.
After the ride, I stepped inside a building at Fort Belvoir to take a call from the prime minister of Japan. I heard a noise in the background. I peeked out the door and saw Petraeus leading the peloton through a series of post-ride push-ups and crunches.
Petraeus’s rise had attracted some resentment. I had heard gossip from several people warning that he had an outsize ego. Back in 2004, when Petraeus was leading the effort to train Iraqi security forces, Newsweek had run a cover with a close-up photo of him above the headline “Can this man save Iraq?” When I raised the topic with him, he smiled and said, “My classmates from West Point are never going to let me live that down.” I appreciated his self-deprecating remark. It was a good complement to his drive.
Petraeus’s confirmation hearings came late in January. “I think that at this point in Baghdad the population just wants to be secure,” he said. “And truthfully, they don’t care who does it.” When John McCain pressed him on whether the mission could succeed without more troops, General Petraeus answered, “No, sir.” The Senate confirmed him, 81 to 0.
I called the general to the Oval Office to congratulate him on the vote. Dick Cheney, Bob Gates, Pete Pace, and other members of the national security team were there to wish him well. “I’d like a moment alone with my commander,” I said.
As the team filed out, I assured General Petraeus that I had confidence in him and that he could have my ear anytime. At the end of the meeting I said, “This is it. We’re doubling down.”
As he walked out the door, he replied, “Mr. President, I think it’s more like all in.”
On February 10, 2007, David Petraeus took command in Baghdad. His task was as daunting as any American commander had faced in decades. As he told his troops on his first day, “The situation in Iraq is exceedingly challenging, the stakes are very high, the way ahead will be hard and there undoubtedly will be many tough days.” He continued: “However, hard is not hopeless. These tasks are achievable; this mission is doable.”
As our surge troops flowed into Iraq, Generals Petraeus and Odierno relocated our forces from bases on the outskirts of Baghdad to small outposts inside the city. Our troops lived alongside Iraqi security forces and patrolled the city on foot, instead of inside armored Humvees. As they entered enemy strongholds for the first time, the extremists fought back. We lost 81 troops in February, 81 in March, 104 in April, 126 in May, and 101 in June—the first time in the war we had faced triple-digit losses three months in a row. The casualties were agonizing. But something felt different in 2007: America was on offense again.
General Petraeus drew my attention to an interesting metric of progress: the number of intelligence tips from Iraqi residents. In the past, Iraqis had feared retribution from insurgents or death squads for cooperating with our forces. But as security improved, the number of tips grew from about 12,500 in February to almost 25,000 in May. Our troops and intelligence operators used the tips to take insurgents and weapons off the street. The counterinsurgency strategy was working: We were winning over the people by providing what they needed most, security.
We followed up the clearing and holding with building, thanks in large part to the civilian surge led by Ambassador Ryan Crocker. I first met Ryan in Pakistan, where he was serving as ambassador, during my visit in 2006. He came across as a patient, unassuming diplomat. But beneath his calm exterior was a fearless man widely regarded as the best Foreign Service officer of his generation. Fluent in Arabic, Ryan had served all over the Middle East, including several tours in Iraq. He had survived the 1983 terrorist attack on our embassy in Lebanon and escaped an angry mob plundering his residence in Syria. When I announced the new strategy in Iraq, I decided we should change ambassadors, too. I nominated Zal Khalilzad, who had done a fine job in Baghdad, to be our permanent representative to the UN. Condi didn’t take long to recommend a replacement for him. She said Ryan was the only man for the job.
Ryan gained my respect quickly. He had a knack for detecting problems and heading them off. He spoke bluntly about challenges but had a wry sense of humor and liked to laugh. “What have you got for me today, Sunshine?” I asked him during one particularly rough stretch. He started his briefing with a big grin. He worked seamlessly with General Petraeus. And he earned the trust of Iraqis from all factions.
The heart of the civilian surge was doubling the number of Provincial Reconstruction Teams, which paired civilian experts with military personnel. I held several videoconferences and meetings with PRT team leaders deployed across Iraq. They were an impressive group. Several were grizzled combat veterans. Another was a female Foreign Service officer whose son served as a Marine in Iraq. They described their projects, which ranged from supporting a local newspaper in Baghdad to helping set up courts in Ninewa to creating a soil-testing laboratory to improve agriculture in Diyala. It wasn’t always glamorous work, but it was critical to the counterinsurgency strategy we were carrying out.