Purging the town of insurgents is complicated by a complex tapestry of ethnicities and religions and tribes -- 82 of them. About 95 percent of the town is ethnically Turkmen, with about 5 percent Kurdish. 75 percent of the Turkmen are Sunni and 25 percent are Shia. The Kurds are almost entirely Sunni.

Just days before the offensive began, United Press International's Pam Hess visited the town -- and provides this unique account of how the witch's brew of ethnic and tribal relations complicates counter-insurgency.

Tall' Afar is home to 82 different tribes. Each with up to 12 sub-tribes. Tribes are comprised of both Sunnis and Shi'a, as the two groups intermarry regularly.

The town's minority Shi'a population is well-connected politically: five members of Iraq's Transitional National Assembly in Baghdad are local Turkoman Shi'ites.

The Sunnis also accuse the Shi'ites of being involved with the Badr brigade, an outlawed Shi'ite militia with connections to Iran.

Kurds and Turkmen historically have warred, but when sides are being chosen here, the Turkmen Shi'ites often ally themselves with the Kurdish Sunnis against the Turkmen Sunnis.

Religion does not seem to hold much sway here; men are not seen praying the prescribed five times a day, and prayer rugs rarely make an appearance. But in a place with so much tribal history and so little upward mobility and economic opportunity, the easiest way to define oneself is by what one is not.

On May 1, a suicide car bomber struck at a funeral in Tall 'Afar killing more than 20 Iraqis and marking a virulent new phase in the insurgency -- between six and 10 attacks a day in the city.

The attack offers an example of how complicated local affiliations are.

The man being buried was a Turkoman Shi'a -- member of the Kurdish militia. A couple of Sunni Turks were killed a few days later in apparent retribution. The U.S. military believes the bombing was carried out by an al Qaida affiliate trying to ignite ethnic warfare.

The town has been governed by a Turkoman Sunni mayor

But the police force has been entirely Shi'a since last year, when the police chief fired all 400 Sunnis on the force. Many of the remaining police are under now investigation for abusing prisoners for months at the Castle, the town hall built on the ruins of other castles dating back thousands of years to the Assyrians, and most recently to the Ottoman Empire.

When the prisoners were discovered and freed by Hickey's men in May, the governor of Ninevah province, based in Mosul, fired the old police chief and installed a Sunni general named Najim in his place. Two weeks later the old police chief returned to power, sending Najim back to Baghdad. The 3d Armored Cavalry Regiment refused to accept the old chief and Najim was brought back.

"Najim is a nationalist, and he's doing a terrific job," said Hickey.

He was doing so well that in early August, the governor of Ninevah fired the mayor -- believed to be cozy with the insurgents -- and installed Najim in his place.

"Under the old mayor, every time I met with him I got attacked, which kind of made me suspicious," Hickey explained earlier.

But the leader of the Farhat tribe, with whom Hickey was trying to maintain good relations, wanted the old mayor back.

"If the ex-mayor was doing such a good job, why don't you have power, water and security?" Hickey asked.

For Hickey, meetings with the Farhat leader are part of his "information operations" campaign.

"Once you let them vent you can get your message out," he said earlier.

Today the message is this: security means power and water and jobs for the people of Tall 'Afar, and the only way there will be security is if the Sunni tribes point out the terrorists, and join the police force and the new Iraqi army.

"All I care about is your city. I feel like I'm from Tall 'Afar," he said. "My father was a soldier and I've lived all over the world. I've been in the Army almost 20 years, so my home is where I am at."

The meeting continued on with men bringing up individual problems -- missing family members, detainees who haven't been returned, water pipes that do not work.

To the side, a charming, smooth-faced man with a nasty scar on his stiff right leg explained he was injured in the Iran-Iraq war. He wants to go to the United States for surgery so he can move his leg again.

Outside, Hickey smiled. "He's one of our high-value targets."

Why not arrest him?

"I told my boss I'm better off keeping my enemies closer," he said. "I could bring him in any time but the effect of that would be worse. It's better for me to learn what they know and to see if I can bring them over to a common goal."

After meeting the Farhat leaders, Hickey makes one more stop -- a brief meeting at the mayor's office at the Castle to pick up an Iraqi boy and take him to the base hospital.

A skeletal boy who looks 10 or 11 enters the room. The Americans gasp to learn he is 15. His left hand is a gnarled claw of scar tissue; his right sports an IV needle. His hair is falling out from malnutrition, and his arms have grown the downy fur of an anorexic.

He has been slowly starving to death since a car bomb in May sent shrapnel through his middle, shredding his intestines. Two surgeries in Iran have been in vain; he eats frequently but clearly his body is not absorbing nutrition or calories.

He has a hole in his stomach that is packed with cotton, and lifts his shirt to show it.

A Shi'a sheikh and the father talk to the boy about going to the American hospital. He cries and scratches at his useless hands. He refuses.

His father hedges and says they have another appointment with doctors in Iran at the end of the month.

Hickey turns to an American and whispers: "He won't make it to the end of the month." He offers the boy a new soccer ball if he comes right away.

American military doctors will only help Iraqis when it's a matter of life, limb or eyesight, Hickey is cautioned by a fellow officer.

"This is life, right? This is life," Hickey says to the room, looking for confirmation of what is plain to everyone's eyes.

He ushers the 15-year old and his father into the back of the Bradley Fighting Vehicle.

Hickey wasn't trained for this; he was trained for operations like the 1991 Persian Gulf War, and to fight the Soviets in Eastern Europe. He believes this kind of work takes a certain kind of personality -- and a huge dose of patience.

"Imagine this is Newark, New Jersey," Hickey explains.

"The entire police force has been disbanded and the mafia has become the police. There is 70 percent unemployment, no city services and terrorists are in the city.

"And you are Chinese and you've been told to come in and work it out.

"And you are dealing with Tony Soprano."

It's taken him four months to figure out where the power is and what the problems are, and how best to deal with them.

Now all of that will change after last week's offensive.

Related Links
SpaceDaily
Search SpaceDaily
Subscribe To SpaceDaily Express