December 14th, 2003

We let them all go home. After lunch we heard from some of the guards that Saddam had been captured in Tikrit; nobody could believe it so we asked everyone we saw if they knew anything. Ibtesam and Rana Two were with me and they asked in Arabic. We walked through the swinging glass doors of the convention center and turned right, walking fast over the short pile orange carpet, down the ramp to the basement and met LTC Smith (pseudonym) who asked us if we had heard; he said that BBC confirmed Saddam was captured somewhere near Tikrit earlier in the day.

It affected me much more (at least outwardly) than the girls. For so long (not really, but seems that way) I have been the officer, manager, leader of our office that I have grown used to being a little hard and mechanical. When Smith told me, it all hit me at once: being gone so long, losing acquaintances, losing thirty pounds, all the missions and heat and yelling and nervous road trips. Closure is the word that my therapist would use, if I had one. I don’t know about that. We are all still here. I do have the sense that the things we have done so far and the losses suffered are much more bearable now.

I guess overcome by emotion is another term that could apply. When we came back from lunch and confirmed the information, I suggested that we send the Iraqi staff home for the day, both as a safety measure in case the streets turned ugly, and also of course to give them time to celebrate. So now they are all gone. Rana One (my secretary) was the last to leave. She took me to the steps where people couldn’t see us and she turned to me. I was trying hard to control my emotions; she was stronger than me and told me that a) she would come to work tomorrow even if the streets were blocked and b) that she had left me a present on my desk.

It’s a Bounty candy bar. Coconut; she knows it’s my favorite. So here I am trying to put these feelings on paper for you and eating the coconut candy bar and I just went outside and listened to the gunshots and the mosque playing prayers at the wrong (or right) time and sirens going off everywhere. Just went out again. The guards here at the hotel asked me to come back under the overhang because there were bullets landing all over the place from celebratory fire. They said that across the street at the hotel someone took a bullet in the head, so I came back inside. Now the pictures are on the internet. The guy looks like the unibomber; bearded, scraggly, tired. I can’t help thinking how tired he must be and wonder if he is actually looking forward to captivity as opposed to being on the run.

Anyway, the show is over now. Bremer and Sanchez have left the building. Saddam has been caught and now we just have to get through the next few days, months and years and get this place up and running. It’s 4:15 PM and I think I’ll go back to my trailer early tonight and dream about drinking heavily. Tomorrow we will all come to work and see how many Iraqis make it in. Tomorrow, from my perspective, will be a good day.

-30-

Copyright, 2003. Tom Kinton, Baghdad, Iraq.