Kids are Your Friends… and Also Your Worst Nightmare

“The streets are empty,” said the scout in the front of the convoy with a trembling voice.

“Keep pushing,” says the Platoon Sergeant from the rear.

Empty streets and an Iraqi police force that was literally running out of town because they knew something unpleasant was about to happen is not how you want to start your day.  These are clear signs of an ambush and that’s what we got.  It was an unwritten rule that if you saw kids playing in the street, chances are that it’s safe enough to travel thru.  Just try not to run over them.  They’re like lap dogs that think they should run at the wheel of a 20-ton vehicle or stand under the ramp when you dismount to patrol.

Jenkins and Sanchez were completely surrounded.

“Mistah! Mistah! Bebsi, chocolate, watch!” ordered a random local kid.

“What? You’re selling watches? Where did you get a watch to sell?” I asked.

“Bebsi, chocolate, watch! GIVE ME!”

“Oh you want my watch… go play in traffic you little fucker.”

“Fawckr?” Tilting his head to the side like a confused dog.

“Damnit.”

First of all, “Bebsi,” is supposed to be “Pepsi.”  A lot of people don’t know this, but US forces actually introduced Iraqis’ to the sound of “P” and although they have their own version in their alphabet now, some kids that were out in the sticks didn’t get the memo and continued with “Bebsi!”  Travesty.  Coke is better anyways.  How many fans did I just lose?

            We felt safe with kids around, but they were merciless in their pursuit to annoy us into giving them freebees.  White platoon didn’t have much to give.  I always wondered who were the guys giving out Pepsi and chocolate and now apparently watches.  Maybe watches were just the evolution of their own greed.  Ambitious.  Good for you, fella.

            We met with assets in safer neighborhoods and while the higher ups were inside for meetings, the rest of us doing outside security had to deal with the chee’rin.  In an attempt to combat these little bastards and keep them at a less annoying distance we researched the nastiest of candies to give to them.  SWEDISH FISH.  Ohhh yeah! 

Epic Fail.

Not only did they like these disgusting gelatin sweets, but they turned ravenous towards them.  After a meeting, White would mount up on the Strykers and start rolling out.  Well guess who was en tow?  You guessed it… Iraqi Lykens flying down the road at us.  I swear they went down on all fours at some point.

“Just give them what they want!” I yelled.

“But I like these,” Shmiddie sadly spoke.

“We’ll be over run if you don’t! Do it! I’ll give you my chocolate MRE shake!”

“Really?”

Laughter followed of course, along with the children.  Shmiddie tossed the bag of nasties to the urban piranhas.  As the fish fell to the ground and were instantly covered in dust and grime, the kids picked them up and devoured the delicatessens.  That can’t be healthy, but we would live to see another day.

Like a boss... with Borrat behind him "Very nice!"

            Sometimes we would have dance offs with the kids and other times we would teach them drinking songs, such as “Drunken Sailor.”  Our platoon sergeant, SFC Pons, sang for them often.

           

“What do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the moooorning?!”

To which the local quartet or peanut gallery would reply…

“Do do do do doo do do, do do do do doo do do, do do do do doo do do, er-lie eh dah maaawningah!”

Close, but no dice.

            As you can imagine it was a love/hate relationship from us to them.  It was mostly a curious liking from them to us.  Although they drove us nuts at some points, they also gave us indicators if something was out of the norm, because kids can’t keep secrets and their nonverbal body language alerted us if there was trouble brewing or danger nearby.  I met a lot of brave kids that led us to capturing enemies.  I only hope there was no retribution against those kids from the enemies we didn’t catch.  Damn war… and damn Swedish Fish.