‘When the Baghdad Bulletin folded, he stayed on in Iraq and became a stringer for Reuters, who sent him to Mosul in the hope that he might find Saddam Hussein. Agence France-Presse and AP both had stringers there, but they were both native Arabic speakers from the Middle East. He was the only Western journalist for miles, living in a rented room on his own. He e-mailed that Mosul was “very quiet” and he wouldn’t have much to report, but Black Hawks started falling out of the sky almost immediately, and it became more and more dangerous. A man I knew who worked for a security company started sending me alerts about the “Ramadan offensive”, which I passed on. Ansar al Islam began targeting Westerners (oilmen, contractors, Red Cross workers, as well as the military), and also the Iraqis who worked with them – drivers, translators. I began to be really, really scared when I didn’t get e-mails every day.
‘I would send jokey e-mails, links to stuff I’d seen on the Net, political news. I didn’t send anything that I thought would make him miserable. In January I got a terse message saying, “Am on a fleeting visit to Internet café” and a link to a really chilling piece he’d done about targeted assassinations all over Mosul, of academics, newspaper editors, broadcasters, prominent businessmen. Then nothing for 48 hours, after which he was back in Baghdad.
‘He came home in February 2004 for a couple of weeks. We hadn’t seen him for months and months. He woke up all through the night every time the beams creaked. I was quite surprised he didn’t pile furniture against the door.
‘Few people in the UK have ever seen a dead body, even the tidily dressed body of a family member, let alone witnessed violent, multiple deaths. I was in Auberon Waugh’s Soho club once, when he was talking to a 20-something war correspondent just back from his first war zone. Waugh (who’d covered the 1960s’ Biafran war) said: “It is extraordinary, the smell of death. Rank, sweetish. You’ll never forget it.” What’s extraordinary to me is that my son, half my age, knows the smell of death – lived with it daily, like the hundreds and thousands of Iraqis living under the occupation. He told me, “The threat in Iraq is not being ignorant of what to do if a firefight kicks off around you. That threat exists, but it’s dwarfed by the threat of being targeted, for which neither experience nor training is a great deal of help. Hardened war hacks who have survived the Balkans, Chechnya, Afghanistan, etc. have been killed here.” Yes – I know.
‘A hardened war hack greeted me with, “How’s it going? He still over there?” When I said yes, he laughed. “My mother has only just told me that she didn’t sleep for 20 years.”’
/HOW TO REMAIN SANE
Jonny Harris, a captain in the Light Dragoon regiment of the British Army, works closely alongside the Afghan Army. In fact, he wrote his advice for this book from an Afghan Army compound somewhere near Lashkar Gah. After some sad and bad times, he has found various ways to put his mind at peace in the midst of chaos.
‘On my first tour in Afghanistan I witnessed at first hand the effect of the stress of combat on people: one of my soldiers suffered a breakdown, was returned home from theatre, and was eventually, sadly, invalided out of the army. While I wouldn’t claim that my advice could, or would, have prevented such a mental collapse, I have developed some personal tactics that have kept me going through some fairly dark times.
‘Escapism. Each day, take some time that is exclusively yours, be it five minutes or 30. Do something that takes your mind completely away from what you are doing. Small luxuries from home can provide great comfort – fresh coffee, a cup of decent tea, a cigar, a dram of whisky, olives, favourite sweets – and the associations of taste and smell can offer a mental sanctuary in the most inhospitable places.
‘Understanding. Make an effort to understand the context of the situation you are in – historical, social, cultural – and interact with the local population wherever possible. It can be easy to lose perspective when there are elements of that population trying to kill you, but it is important to realize that there are a great number of people in the local area who are just trying to get on with life.
‘Discussion. The sensations experienced in dangerous situations, especially in combat, combine to create a heady cocktail of emotions that, if left unexamined, can cause great confusion. You can be certain, however, that someone else has experienced thoughts and emotions not dissimilar to your own. Talk.
‘Exertion. Exercise is a great reliever of tension. Even in a confined space and with minimal equipment, you’re limited only by your own imagination. The simplest exercises are those that use your own body weight, such as press-ups, sit-ups and chin-ups.
‘Anticipation. If you find yourself in a war zone, you will almost certainly find yourself in some rather unpleasant situations. It is important to remember that the unpleasantness will cease eventually, and that the state of affairs will most likely improve. You must maintain the ability to look beyond the immediate circumstances to a more pleasant time.’
/HEALTHY BODY, HEALTHY MIND
This is the advice your mother would give you. But that doesn’t mean it should be ignored. If you eat well and sleep well, you are more likely to be able to deal with your extraordinary everyday experiences in an ordinary way. So I’ll say it again – eat well, sleep well. And in order to do that, it’s a good idea to stay as active as you can, especially if you are stuck indoors all day (see Simple Ways to Stay Fit).
The routine you follow in a war zone might not be the same as the one you follow at home, but it is yours and you have chosen it. The important thing is to find one and stick to it. Ring a friend at the same time every day. Take a break – chocolate or cigarette or water – after every dangerous drive across town. Have a sleep after eating. Watch the terrible local music channel while you drink your coffee in the morning. Pray, smoke, walk, arrange flowers, do your neighbour’s laundry, build paper planes – everything and anything in moderation.
Regular visitors to war zones each seem to find their own poison. The key is to choose a healthy one.
Leith Mushtaq told me: ‘I was born in a war in Iraq. This is my natural background. I saw people killed when I was a schoolboy, and only 12 of us out of 2400 people who went to fight the resistance returned. I write about my experience. That helps me a lot. My writing is my doctor. Damage happens inside. It is difficult for me to be happy now. I have travelled the world for work and holidays. Seen everything… but nothing compares to that experience.’
How much sleep do you need to function on a regular basis? How long can you go without food and still be able to do your job? What situations can you cope with and which ones are a step too far? Which rules don’t you want to break? Where do you draw the line when it comes to people? What lies won’t you tell? Which people don’t you trust? How much alcohol is too much?