Trust is their weapon of choice

The chunky man in the beige velour tracksuit emphasized that he wanted to help the U.S. troops, who politely sipped the Pepsis he had produced after they arrived unannounced Saturday night at his modest home in the northeast neighborhood of Shaab.

Without the Americans, the man said, kidnappers and killers who have terrorized Sunni Muslims in the Shiite-dominated area would resurface. Drawing his index finger across his neck in a slicing motion, he indicated what happened to Sunnis when U.S. forces were not around.

But when U.S. Army Spc. Rany Grizz pressed the man for details, he encountered one of the most stubborn enemies facing American and Iraqi forces attempting to carry out the latest security crackdown in violence-racked Baghdad: Iraqis’ paralyzing fear and distrust of virtually everyone, including the Iraqi army, their next-door neighbors and their own relatives.

“The way we can make this neighborhood safer is if we go and get them tonight,” Grizz, 22, of Miami said to the man, a sense of urgency in his voice as he tried to coax more information. But the source had nothing more to say, at least for the moment.

“Everybody has a weapon,” he said, explaining his fear of saying too much. “I don’t even trust my brother-in-law.”

As for the idea of Iraqi troops loyal to the Shiite-dominated national government taking over for U.S. forces, the man held up his hands as if fending off a bad smell.

“We’re afraid if they go,” he said of the Americans, “all the trouble will come back.”

It was a message heard several times over Saturday as the 3rd Stryker Brigade Combat Team from the Army’s 2nd Infantry Division, based in Ft. Lewis, Wash., went house to house along a block of small concrete homes in Shaab.

The poor and working-class neighborhood is of high interest to troops enforcing the security plan because it is adjacent to Sadr City, a hotbed of the Shiite Muslim militia loyal to radical cleric Muqtada Sadr, and Adhamiya, a Sunni stronghold.

Its location makes it a likely spot for militant activity from both sides, and for the last week U.S. soldiers in Strykers, hulking 22-ton armored vehicles, have combed it day and night.

By day, they conduct clearing operations, searching homes and detaining people based in part on tips from neighborhood residents. By night, they follow up by gathering a new round of “atmospherics,” military-speak for chatting with locals to get the lay of the land and develop sources of information.

“We’re definitely devoting a lot more combat power to this area as part of this new mission,” said Capt. Bill Parsons, 28, of Miami, a company commander.

U.S. officials are banking on the latest security crackdown in Baghdad, which started Tuesday, to succeed where others have not because of its emphasis on face-to-face contact, joint U.S.-Iraqi patrols and the establishment of combat outposts in neighborhoods of the capital.

The idea is to win public trust for American and Iraqi forces by staying around. Once trust is established, military officials say, the cooperation they need from the public to flush out militants will follow.

Judging from Saturday’s exercise, it won’t be easy.

“There definitely is a portion of the population not willing to give us their trust,” Parsons said. “But ultimately this is how the Baghdad security plan is going to succeed -- if people see it in action face to face. Otherwise, all they are seeing is our vehicles, and that’s pretty intimidating.”

The people who were visited Saturday, and the conditions in which they live, tell a familiar story in Iraq: of families stripped of their once-cozy if modest lives, craving security and trying to keep up appearances in a bleak environment.

Satin and velvet drapes, once richly colored but faded by age and dust, cover front windows. Grime-coated chandeliers hang from ceilings so low that some soldiers’ helmets brush against the dangling baubles. Mismatched carpets cover old linoleum floors. Visitors are served soda, tea in delicate little cups, and in one home, sugar cookies carefully displayed on silver trays.

‘Afraid of everything’

In one house, two AK-47s were propped on a shelf next to the front door for protection, a common sight and one that shows the fear of attack and the lack of faith in Iraqi police to come to the rescue.

“If we call the police, they come to kill us, so who are we supposed to call?” asked the man in the velour tracksuit, who like others questioned by the troops refused to be identified out of fear of retribution.

“I’d rather be arrested by the Americans than by Iraqis,” he said, as he and his wife sat on a tattered sofa in a tiny room decorated with vases of plastic flowers.

Down the street, a Shiite man sat with his squirming children, a Sony computer in the corner hinting at a past life. He wrapped his arms around a little girl in a pink bathrobe. She was supposed to start school this year but is not being allowed out of the house because he is afraid she might never make it back.

“I’m afraid of everything,” said the man, who runs an appliance repair shop.

Like his neighbors, he said things had improved dramatically since U.S. forces started visiting the area last week. Also like the neighbors, he longed for them to stay.

It is not as if they enjoy having foreign troops control their streets. Many griped about the traffic jams created by checkpoints, and about the aggressive search techniques practiced by some soldiers.

Some blamed the U.S. for the violence tearing the country apart. One said the war was a violation of international law because it was started under false pretenses, a reference to the Bush administration’s now-discredited claim that late former leader Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction.

But so intense is their desire for a safer life that they said they would take security wherever they could get it, including from U.S. forces -- and, in the case of many Shiites, from Sadr’s Al Mahdi army, which they acknowledge is active in the area.

“Without Mahdi, we would get killed,” said one Shiite man, who added that he disliked the militia for its violence and sectarian extremism but was grateful for the safety it guaranteed Shiites. The man also praised the U.S. presence but said Iraqi forces were too weak and fragmented to provide adequate security.

His neighbor, another Shiite, agreed. The neighbor had adorned his front door, refrigerator and a wall of his bedroom with pictures of Sadr.

“Frankly, for us they are good,” he said of Sadr’s militiamen. “Without them, there would be no Shiites here.”

As for the Americans, he urged them to “fix up” the mess he said they had caused in the country, then apologized for being so blunt.

The Sadr posters piqued the U.S. visitors’ interest, as did copper wiring -- potential bomb-making material -- found during a search of the house.

Grizz also wondered how the Shiite man had come to live in a house occupied until a few months ago by a Sunni.

The Shiite resident said he sought safety in Shaab after a Sunni death squad abducted and killed his 18-year-old son last year. The home’s owner had gone to Mosul and allowed him to remain as a caretaker, he said, fidgeting with a string of prayer beads.

The soldiers were not convinced, but the man’s name did not appear on any watch lists. After more than an hour of questioning and a search that turned up little more than rubbish-strewn rooms and a pornography collection, the troops left.

‘Hopefully it’ll work’

By then it was nearly 11 p.m., well past curfew. The streets were deserted, except for packs of stray dogs who sometimes raced after the heaving Strykers. The gunner slowly rotated the mounted .50-caliber machine gun, capable of hitting a target from 1,200 yards, searching for possible threats.

Tonight, there were none, save for the reluctance of neighborhood residents to accept and trust each other.

“I don’t know if we can really predict what this area will look like in a year or two,” Parsons said of Shaab, “but hopefully it’ll work.”

Their last stop was at another Shiite home. The man said he preferred for U.S. troops to take over security in Iraq, even as he expressed disdain for them.

He and his wife led the visitors to a wooden door with a broken lock, which they said a soldier had kicked in earlier in the day during a search. They accused U.S. troops of shooting a neighborhood man the day before as he rushed his pregnant wife to the hospital.

“You and the Mahdi army, you’re the same. You both kill people,” he said, his voice raised almost to a yell.

The Iraqi army? “They will never be able to take over -- never!” he said.

Then, with a smile, he showed the soldiers out into the chilly night.

susman@latimes.com