World Humanitarian Day

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The following story has reminders of war embedded. Just a warning…

I would like to recognize today in somber commemoration of a tragic occasion. Twenty years ago, on 19 August 2003, a massive explosion tore apart the UN headquarters in Baghdad. Twenty-two UN colleagues and friends were killed in this appalling attack. More than a hundred people were injured.

Although the attack on the Canal Hotel targeted the humanitarian community, ordinary Iraqis were not spared either: Today, in observing World Humanitarian Day, I am paying tribute to all victims of humanitarian terrorism.

Around the world humanitarian workers, healthcare professionals, civil society specialists, staff of international organizations; countless brave women and men who put themselves in considerable danger to assist individuals and communities affected by conflict and disasters.

World Humanitarian Day has been observed every year on 19 August since 2003. It is young in its existence but deep in reasoning and remembrance of the sacrifice of those who have lost their lives serving humanity. For most I suppose this is just another day, but for me this is the day that changed the lives of hundreds. To include myself.

How does one find themselves on the doorsteps of a historic day. The horrendous happenings started well before a single day in August of 2003. I have a little story that brackets the timeline of my career but also of the historical steps that have led to the instability of a region. To retrack into history, the first Gulf War severely damaged Iraq's power plants, transmission lines, and electrical substations, reducing average daily power output in 1991 to 2,325 megawatts. Due to the inequitable distribution of power, most areas of the country struggled with little power under the Saddam Hussain regime. At that time most of Iraq was only receiving 8-10 hours of power daily. Fallujah and Tikrit were receiving 10-14 hours of electricity daily. The Saddam leaders pretty much drained power from the rest of the country to feed Baghdad, leaving more than 80 percent of the country to fend for themselves with private generators. For over 10 years, Baghdad had access to electricity on a near continuous basis while the rest of Iraq was limited to 3 to 6 hours daily. Even with an unfair system, the former Iraq leadership was only able to power Baghdad 20-22 hours a day. This made for a very unequal life and created a caste system of have and have nots.

Fast forward to mid-April 2003, the U.S. Army completed its "thunder runs"- a fast moving attack into the heart of Baghdad-and now were occupying a city where the power grid had crashed, taking down all the other infrastructure systems with it, including water and sewerage. Of course, US commanders wanted the lights back on in Baghdad immediately, one of the Coalition's most challenging of challenges. It didn’t take much time to discover Iraq's broken electricity sector. Drinkable water, sewer systems, and hospitals would not function without power.

Now, please do not misunderstand my little history lesson. I know this information because in mid-August 2003 I was selected from the vastness of the Army to be one of 22 Soldiers to report to Baghdad to “turn on the electricity”. As you might know, this was an insane assignment because I struggle with the functions of a 3-way light bulb! Truly, at the end of the day, there were 21 amazingly qualified army engineers and me.

The behind the scenes of a war are so complex and, were not a normal part of my day as “just a National Guard Captain from North Dakota.” I was a company commander, our mission with 181 Soldiers was to build bridges and then use our flat rack trucks as vehicles to haul containers and miscellaneous loads convoying between Kuwait and Baghdad. I was ripped from my duties as a commander and sent to Baghdad; not to my liking and honestly at this early point in the war, I really didn’t care about the electrical workings of a country.

When us 22 Soldiers arrived in Baghdad and realized we would be assigned to the CPA (Coalition Provisional Authority), (which was established as a fill in for a broken and war-torn government), it was a shock that we would not be returning to our military units. We were now expected to integrate into a system that was weirdly organized. Civilians who work behind the scenes while a war rages around them. USAID, Corp of Engineers, Civilian Contractors like Bechtel. Technical experts who rebuild systems in countries that lack expertise and sustainable funding for repairs that involved more than baling wire and bubble gum.

Ambassador Bremer set a lofty new goal. In a broadcast to the Iraqi people in August 2003, he said, "About one year from now, for the first time in history, every Iraqi in every city, town, and village will have as much electricity as he or she can use; and you will have it 24 hours a day, every single day." *Note: When the CPA closed its doors on June 28, 2004, Iraq's average daily generation capacity stood at 4,200 megawatts, well short of its 6,000-megawatt goal. The looting of cables, destruction of high-tension towers, security issues, crime, and sabotage of fuel lines continued to persist.

Team 4400 is what General Abizaid called our small team. In April, the Coalition Provisional Authority had dedicated five people to the power effort. By the fall, that staff had surpassed 50. Bremer assigned our Team to increase Iraq’s generation capacity to the prewar level of 4,400 megawatts by the end of September. Team 4400 often worked from dawn to well past midnight and found energy in knowing that we would be turning the power on for the children of Iraq. Team 4400 paired Iraqi plant operators with U.S. power experts.

It took just a few days and 20 out of 22 Soldiers were relocated to remote locations and living at power plants across the country of Iraq. SGM Joe and I, (a Sergeants Major from the Mississippi National Guard) were left in Baghdad and were renamed as “Expeditors”. Which to the civilians was a term for Logistical movers and shakers. SGM Joe focused on what the 18 powerplants needed for infrastructure repair, replacement of parts and overall liaison with the Soldiers assigned to the individual power plants. I was assigned to ensure all requested equipment and supplies reached the locations across the country of Iraq.

The scurry of the morning of 19 August 2003 was normal for my 6^th day in Baghdad. “Hey Frenchy, grab an Iraqi security team and head over to the Canal Hotel. Big United Nations meeting today and see what kind of funding the UN will be dedicating to the Electricity rebuild through the Oil for Food Program.” "Uh, okay but you know I have not a clue about the world of electricity," I assured them so nobody would be disappointed when I returned.

The building was unsecured, and to be on the safe side my security team walked behind me as we entered the side door to the hotel. Nobody made any notice of us as we made our way to the meeting being held in the far corner of the building. A long meeting table kept all the players in their assigned areas. Interpreters sat next to their primaries, France had representatives that spoke flawless English, I estimate about 40 people were representing the many spokes of operations within the organization. Logistical and financial experts from the UN lined the edges of the room, and then each infrastructure representative sat around the table with little name tents. Sewer, Banking, Medical, Education, Water, Electricity and many others. I was the only American, the only military member and yup, the only woman.

An hour into the meeting and the attendees had become restless. It was over 120 degrees in the small boardroom, we were being served tea with too many sugar cubes and we were all smoking incessantly. The air was stagnant with the aroma of cigarette smoke mixing with body odor, which was a horrific gag-able pungent smell. In a millisecond, the air was sucked out of my lungs, the world went black and the only thing I could hear was painful ringing in my ears. It was black. It was really black. The smoke was black and the light from the single window had dissipated, and I was trying to breathe normally but breathes were labored and tasted funny. A disorientation to find the door. Where is the damn door? Wait..Where are the windows, who was I sitting by, dang where is the cup of tea? Where is the table and why are we piled up against the back wall? I lit a cigarette, and the glow of the lighter was welcomed and soon we were using lighters and small portable phones to inch our way to find an exit. Slowly the room started to come into focus and people had dust covering their faces and clothing. These were civilians. Who would do this? Heck, what really happened?

“Captain French, where are you? Captain French we must go. WE MUST GO NOW!” I thought we should help the people. Honestly, I didn’t really know what was happening. My team of Iraqi’s who were my security guards came and retrieved me, one under one arm and the other grabbed the left. They were running much faster than my legs were moving. I think it was more of a lift and shift effort on their mission to rescue me. I can remember the confusion on faces, the chaos of people yelling in their native language, screams for people to call out.

It was only about four-minutes. The minutes were so slow. From the chatter of a business meeting to the explosion and loud sound of blackness and then choking from the weight of the air in my lungs. The noise was as intense as the quiet. The panic and puzzlement were eerie as my team secured me in the back of the SUV. We sped out of the area into the safety of the snipers lurking around Baghdad. I looked back and saw what was previously the front of the hotel. Destroyed, burning and now serving as the rally point for the people in the hotel who were looking for safety. The American Military was just arriving on the scene, and they would provide rescue, medical aid, and security.

That my friends is how you become a part of history. Let me conclude by emphasizing that I am honored and humbled to remember the sacrifices of the twenty-two Humanitarian Professionals, fallen in the service of peace and stability in Iraq. May we pay tribute to them, to everyone who lost their lives serving humanity, and to all victims of terror. My wish is that maybe our continuing commitment to peace and justice will be their legacy. Courage and resiliency are hidden in a Humanitarians Soul. Godspeed

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