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Photo essay from the frontline against IS: playing the waiting game with the Kurdish Peshmerga

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By Christiaan Triebert:

A fighter from Koya in his base – a house recaptured from Islamic State – at one of the most southern positions of the Peshmerga.
A fighter from Koya in his base – a house recaptured from Islamic State – at one of the most southern positions of the Peshmerga. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.

Christiaan Triebert recently returned from the frontline between the Kurdish Peshmerga and Islamic State militants in northern Iraq. This is his account of his time with the Peshmerga. 

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“Get the brothers ready for tonight’s position.”

“Yes I will, inshallah.”

“Inshallah.”

A group of Peshmerga soldiers stand around a walkie-talkie. They listen to the Arabic of Islamic State (IS) fighters who are just a stone’s throw away. Another Peshmerga fighter scans the horizon with his binoculars. “There,” he points. Two cars drive off, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

The question is whether the information is useful to the Kurds. The village where the IS fighters take their positions overnight is about 1.5km away. Close enough to clearly see it from the six-meter-high vantage point, but too far away to hit accurately. It would be a waste of ammunition. A cloth is draped around the barrels of a ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft gun for that reason. “We’ll take it off as soon as they move toward us.”

I stand here at the frontline in northern Iraq, between the Kurdish Peshmerga forces and Islamic State, east of the oil-rich city of Kirkuk. Oil is money, and there’s always someone who is willing to buy it, which makes this bit of land a target for IS.

In the nearby villages of Tel al-Ward and Mullah Abdullah IS flags flew six months ago. Now they have been replaced by the Alaya Rengin, the ‘Colourful Flag’ of Iraqi Kurdistan. The coalition’s air strikes have given the Peshmerga fighters the chance to recapture this territory from IS. Now they have created a new, more resilient defence line. A metre-high wall of sand separates the Peshmerga controlled area from that of IS. Every few metres a lookout has been built upon the defence line. On some of them sit sizeable guns.

An outpost overlooking 'no man’s land'. The boy holding the flagpost is fighting together with his father at this part of the frontline.
An outpost overlooking ‘no man’s land’. The boy holding the flagpost is fighting together with his father at this part of the frontline. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.
Peshmerga fighters listen to their commander. The house where they sit was captured from Islamic State and is now used as a Peshmerga base.
Peshmerga fighters listen to their commander. The house where they sit was captured from Islamic State and is now used as a Peshmerga base. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.

The area between the old and the new defence lines is marked by previous battles. Major General (liwa) Wurya grabs the base plate and bipod of an improvised mortar system. According to him, chloride-loaded mortars were fired from the installation. He then points to a huge hole. Twisted steel lies in and around it. “An Islamic State suicide vehicle exploded there, luckily enough we managed to hit it just in time before it exploded at our lookout.”

These suicide trucks, so-called VBIEDS (Vehicle-Borne Improvised Explosive Device), are nightmares for the Kurds: heavily armoured vehicles loaded with explosives that drive straight into the Kurdish positions and are detonated by the driver in exchange for a one-way ticket to paradise.

“Have you ever seen the movie Mad Max,” asks retired liwa Abozid Salih. I nod. “Such vehicles are also made by IS. But worse. One foggy morning, we saw an armoured harvester armed with heavy artillery looming towards us. Bullets and rocket launchers were fired — nothing helped. That day, we lost a lot of men.”

It is not surprising that many fighters emphasise how happy they are with the German supply of MILAN anti-tank-missiles, which have proved to be effective against these moving monsters.

Yet many Peshmerga soldiers complain about the poor condition of their weapons and their lack of ammunition. Most of their weapons were seized from Saddam’s forces during the wars in 1991 and 2003. There are also several tanks and other hardware, but none of it can compare to the modern American-made weapons IS militants have looted from Iraqi bases.

In addition to the anti-tank-missiles, Germany has provided around 6,000 assault rifles: 3,000 G3s (“old junk”) and another 3,000 G36s (the standard weapon of the Bundeswehr), as well as thousands of machine guns and rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs).

But still there are not enough weapons on the front. One soldier asks where the other weapons are. To which another responds, “In the hands of the KDP”. Others nod in agreement. Kurdish police officers had earlier said that Massoud Barzani, the current president of the Kurdish Autonomous Region (KAR), had a monopoly on arms distribution.

Former liwa Saleh holds 44-mm rocket for the RB M57, a Yugoslavian rocket-propelled grenade launcher (RPG).
Former liwa Saleh holds a 44-mm rocket for the RB M57, a Yugoslavian rocket-propelled grenade launcher (RPG). Photo: Christiaan Triebert.
A fighter in position with his Russian made PK machine gun at the frontline south of Kirkuk.
A fighter in position with his Russian made PK machine gun at the frontline south of Kirkuk. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.

Despite the fact that the Iraqi Kurds are united in their fight against IS, the Peshmerga has always been plagued by internal division. The forces are still divided along political lines. Although they led the Kurdish resistance against Saddam together, armed conflict has broken out sporadically between the different Kurdish political groups, most notable in the bloody Kurdish civil war from 1994 to 1997.

On one side is the group that swears allegiance to the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) of the incumbent President Massoud Barzani and his family. On the other side are the groups that are loyal to the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK), led by Jalal Talabani and his family. The two political parties together form the ruling coalition of the KAR.

The divide is noticeable on the frontlines. ISIS graffiti is often repainted with ‘PUK’ rather than ‘Peshmerga’. The KDP Peshmerga is mainly in the north while the PUK Peshmerga is stationed in the south. When Islamic State militants pushed an offensive on Kirkuk in June 2014, both factions sent too many troops to the region, leaving other strategic positions unmanned. At the moment, the Kirkuk front is predominantly staffed by PUK Peshmerga.

An older generation of PUK Peshmerga fighters.
An older generation of PUK Peshmerga fighters. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.
Writing on a building just behind the frontline.
Writing on a building just behind the frontline. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.

The main danger for the men at the Kirkuk front comes from IS mortars. Snipers are less of a threat: the walls of sand are tall enough and the distance is just too far.

Apart from the occasional mortar attacks, the front is quiet. Perhaps too quiet. In early August, Kurdish commanders said that many jihadists seemed to have been transferred from here to the IS stronghold at Mosul. But every so often there is a larger attack; recently 600 IS fighters attacked Peshmerga positions.

“I do not understand,” Wurya says. ‘Of those six hundred we killed, at least a hundred were foreigners. Why do Westerners, sometimes even with a university background, blow themselves up here? What is their right to fight here?”

This is the reason why Wurya and Saleh believe that Western countries should continue to support the Peshmerga and their fight against Islamic State. “After all, many of your compatriots are fighting here.”

There is debate as to what role radicalisation plays among the Kurdish youth. Certainly the motivation to fight is greater in the older generation than among the young. While defending their homeland is a source of pride – as demonstrated by the many British and American Kurds have come back to fight here – many youngsters talk openly about their desire to go to Europe.

They are tired of the front, or even find it boring. The boys keep themselves busy by playing FarmVille, cards, or watching ‘funny videos’. That gets boring after a while. They also denounce corrupt politicians and the little wages they receive for their efforts at the front. This explains the remarkably large number of taxis just behind the front. A lot of guys try to earn extra dinars as taxi drivers when they’re not at the front.

A Peshmerga fighter is using his phone for relaxation. Several fighters said there was not much to do:
A Peshmerga fighter using his phone for relaxation. Several fighters said there was not much to do: “Waiting, waiting, waiting.” Photo: Christiaan Triebert.
Peshmerga fighter Chewan, 22, bought his ‘US Army’ outfit in the local bazar in Koya. Most fighters have to pay for their own outfits.
Peshmerga fighter Chewan, 22, bought his ‘US Army’ outfit in the local bazar in Koya. Most fighters have to pay for their own outfits. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.
Liwa Wury says he does not understand why so many Westerners are fighting for Islamic State. For that reason, Wurya believes, the West should continue its support for the Peshmerga.
Liwa Wury says he does not understand why so many Westerners are fighting for Islamic State. For that reason, Wurya believes, the West should continue its support for the Peshmerga. “After all, many of your compatriots are fighting here.” Photo: Christiaan Triebert.

“The problem of the youth is that they have learned to fight out of a book,” Wurya says. “We, by contrast, have gained experience by fighting in the mountains.” Holding a cup of tea, he laughs with his old comrades about the things they did during previous wars, reminiscing about the time one of them was the first on top of a bunker of Saddam’s troops.

Together they fought many armed conflicts, especially against the Iraqi authorities in the sixties, seventies and eighties. After the Gulf War, they fought against the KDP between 1995 and 1998 in the Kurdish civil war. In 2003, they stood side by side with the American elite units.

Yet there has been little training since Saddam was ousted from power, especially for a fight like the current one. “The Islamic State is by far the hardest enemy we’ve ever had,” Salih says. “And that battle is far from over.”

As night falls, the Kirkuk front becomes even quieter. But the silence is deceptive. There is unrest within the political landscape of the KRG, and frustrated youths would rather go to Europe than be stationed there. Whatever the case, Salih will continue his fight. He is certain that “something big will happen soon”.

A few days later, the Peshmerga launched a massive offensive involving over a thousand men. The attack was successful: IS was pushed back over 10km and several villages were recaptured. Air support from the coalition was vital to the success of the attack.

Salih knows how important that support is. He refers to the greater powers of the region and the world, all of whom have a stake in his fight. But it does not bother him. He is proud. “Despite the external support, this struggle is, to me, a Kurdish struggle. And with or without support — I will defend my country till my last breath.”

Retired liwa Saleh laughs with his old comrades about the things they did in previous wars, including fighting the forces of Saddam Hussein.
Retired liwa Saleh laughs with his old comrades about the things they did in previous wars, which included fighting the forces of Saddam Hussein. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.
For six months, it has been relatively quiet at this front. Some soldiers go fishing, just behind the frontline, to kill time.
For six months, it has been relatively quiet at this front. Some soldiers go fishing, just behind the frontline, to kill time. Photo: Christiaan Triebert.

Christiaan Triebert (1991) is a postgraduate student in Conflict, Security and Development at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. He completed his undergraduate studies in International Relations and International Organisation as well as Political Philosophy at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands. He has visited several conflict-torn regions, most recently Northern Iraq. You can find more of his work on his website www.christiaantriebert.com or follow him on Twitter @trbrtc 

NOTES

Thanks to Thomas van Linge for recognizing the ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft guns mounted on MT-LB’s.

What does the fall of Ramadi mean for Iraq?

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By Victoria Fontan:Ramadi Dr. Victoria Fontan writes this article from Duhok, Kurdistan.

EDITORS NOTE: On May 20, following the publication of this article, the Iraqi government granted conditional entry to Baghdad for IDPs fleeing the violence in Ramadi. However, as of May 22, Sharqia News, Iraqi TV was reporting the bridge had only been opened for 1,000 IDP’s, leaving 5,000 remaining IDPs stranded.

The town of Ramadi has completely fallen to the Islamic State in Iraq and Sham (ISIS). Many commentators have already stated that this is a major defeat for the government of Prime Minister Abadi. Indeed, it represents both a long and short-term disaster for the current Baghdad administration.

Only a month after triumphantly proclaiming that he would rid Anbar of ISIS, against US wishes to focus on re-taking Mosul, Prime Minister Abadi has failed. His strategy is not only placing Baghdad at risk, but also the Haditah Dam, the second largest source of hydropower in Iraq.

Shi’a militias are now gathering in Habaniya airbase in preparation for a major counter-offensive. Yet, a year on, Mosul is still waiting to be “saved”. This flexing of governmental and Shi’a militia muscles seems to be no more than a Baathist-style propaganda stunt, that former Saddam Information Sahhaf-style. So what does this mean for Iraq?

It is now very clear that the modern state, as Gertrude Bell designed it, belongs to the history books. Sectarian relations between Iraqi Sunnis and Shi’as have reached a point of no return. Conflict resolution scholars compare relationships to an elastic band: it can be stretched, but at one point, it breaks.

Baghdad’s refusal of Anbar Internally Displaced Persons (IPDs) illustrates this. While the Kurdistan Regional Government welcomed almost two million Arab IDPs after the fall of Mosul last June, Baghdad has closed its doors to its own, clearly indicating to the its Sunni population that Iraq is no longer their country.

With this clear sign of sectarian disintegration of the country, Kurdish independence looks like a fait accomplit. It is not a matter of if, but when Kurdistan will finally exist as a sovereign State. Seen under this light, Kurdistan is indirectly benefiting from Prime Minister Abadi’s strategic and sectarian mistakes. That is a clear long-term benefit to Kurdistan, but at what price?

In the short term, it might be that once again, Baghdad’s errors have to be paid for by the Kurds, and specifically the Peshmerga forces, who remain, under-armed, in the northern frontline of the war against ISIS. In the same way that ISIS significantly benefited from the fall of Mosul in terms of weaponry; scores of armaments were left when General Berwary and his Golden Brigades left the Anbar Military Command on Sunday.

Like the Baghdad-backed Shi’a militias, ISIS is armed with the latest technology; while Peshmerga only receive a fraction of the weapons sent by the US via the Baghdad government. This makes the holding of frontlines, such as in the town of Sinjar, which I visited a couple of weeks ago, more difficult.

This also undoubtedly reinforces an unnecessary metric imbalance between ISIS and the Peshmerga. Each time that the Baghdad Government makes another gross mistake, its ripple effects can be felt at the largest frontline against ISIS, defended by the Kurds for over 1000 kilometers. Each Baghdad military defeat creates even stronger anti-bodies in the ranks of ISIS, whose fighters, thanks to the government’s strategic mistakes, have access to the latest weapon technology. With the strategic help of former Iraqi Army top commanders, the combination is proving deadly on the battlefield. If it weren’t for the Coalition airstrikes, ISIS would have made more advances.

The results are instructive. In Tikrit, Abadi’s troops were incapable of retaking the city on their own. While more than 30,000 troops surrounded Tikrit for over a month, it was only after Coalition airstrikes and the Jibouri tribe’s assistance in re-taking the neighboring town of al-Alam, that the city could be accessed. How many ISIS bodies were found inside? Between 60 and 80. In Ramadi, it was reported that 6,000 Iraqi forces fell to 150 ISIS fighters. At this rate, the Iraqi army and Shi’a militias are only making matters worse.

Militarily, the Baghdad government has reached such a low that a sustained presence on the battlefield will only weaken its army even more, and further alienate the Sunni tribes who are still part of the coalition against ISIS. Politically, the Baghdad government should swallow its pride and start working on a serious end to sectarian politics in Iraq.

Dr. Victoria Fontan is the Interim Chair, Department of Politics and Public Policy, at the American University of Duhok, in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. She is also the author of “Decolonizing Peace” (2012) and “Voices from Post-Saddam Iraq” (2008). She is now undertaking an additional PhD in the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. Her thesis title is: “The Resilience of Insurgencies in Fallujah.” You can find more information on Victoria Fontan’s research on her website: http://www.victoriacfontan.com or follow her on Twitter @DecolonizingPAX.