Sadr City violence spurs a dilemma

US must push against militants, but not too hard

"It gets really frustrating," said Lieutenant Matt Vigeant, who searched a car at a checkpoint on the edge of Sadr City where he hoped to capture militants attending a funeral.

BAGHDAD - On a smog-choked stretch of "Route Pluto," a street haunted by snipers and bombs on the edge of Sadr City, Army Lieutenant Matt Vigeant was out in traffic looking for a white Opel.

A suspected Shi'ite Muslim extremist was expected at a funeral for one of his own, so Vigeant had set up an ad hoc roadblock in hopes of nabbing him or other militants expected to be among the mourners.

He grew more frustrated with each passing car.

Frustrated that drivers were breezing through the orange traffic cones he had set up rather than slowly curling around them; frustrated that he had to yell above the belching engines and honking horns to get his soldiers' attention; frustrated that he and his men were risking their lives doing a job more likely to infuriate passersby than yield results.

Even with a list of suspects, their vehicle types, and photographs in front of him, Vigeant was doubtful a big fish would be foolish enough to approach a US checkpoint, especially one so close to Sadr City, the sprawling Shi'ite district where the funeral was being held. Any militia leader wanted by US or Iraqi security forces probably was holed up deep in the neighborhood, where the United States military has no permanent presence and, Vigeant said, people are too afraid of cleric Moqtada al-Sadr or too swayed by his anti-US rhetoric to turn in anyone fighting in his name.

Vigeant's frustrations were symbolic of the dilemma facing the US military as it tries to quell violence in Sadr City without further inflaming Sadr loyalists, who want to drive the United States out of Iraq. The military knows that if it pushes too hard, Sadr could cancel a truce he called in August. By not pushing hard enough, it allows extremists ignoring the truce to continue attacks.

Whatever it does, it faces the distrust of many Iraqis whose lives have been upended by five years of war, and who see the soldiers more as threats than do-gooders.

"Some people are grateful, but the closer you get to Sadr City, the more obvious they make their feelings," said Vigeant, who made a point of thanking each driver he stopped and apologizing for the inconvenience. Most responded with polite nods. Some smiled.

"You try to show them you're friendly," he said. "You do all these things to show them we're not here as crusaders, but it gets really frustrating. JAM just has that popular support," he said, using the Arabic-based acronym for Sadr's Mahdi Army, which holds sway in Sadr City.

Attacks have lessened since an offensive on Shi'ite militias launched in late March by Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki sparked fierce fighting in the area. But the situation on Route Pluto, as the military calls the multilane street where Vigeant was setting up traffic cones, remains extremely dangerous. In the early days of the offensive, Vigeant said, insurgents would dump piles of trash and concrete slabs along the street to conceal bombs. The closer you got to Sadr City, the worse the piles were.

Vigeant's platoon sergeant was injured in a bomb blast late last month.

"Sometimes I wonder if the people really appreciate what we're trying to do," Vigeant said as traffic zoomed by. "I risk my life every day on the street. My guys risk their lives every day."

As he spoke, Vigeant constantly reminded his men to keep moving to reduce their chances of being hit by sniper fire.

This mission, while not inside Sadr City, was a direct result of the fighting that continues in the neighborhood. Earlier in the day, Iraqi police had notified US forces that they planned to stake out the funeral of a mid-level militia fighter killed recently and could use backup. The US responded with the roadblock on Route Pluto.

The results were at times comic, and at times suspenseful.

Vigeant set up two sets of cones about 100 feet apart and then watched in frustration from inside his Humvee as traffic began driving through the cones at regular speed.

He got out of the Humvee and walked about 25 feet to an Iraqi police patrol with an interpreter, who explained the cones' purpose and asked for help getting the traffic to go around them, not through them.

Back in the relative security of the Humvee, Vigeant watched as the police began stopping each vehicle, creating an instant traffic jam. He got back out, knowing the tie-up would anger motorists and create tensions on the street.

"I want people to get through. I just don't want them to speed. Like him," Vigeant said pointedly to the Iraqi police as a minivan whizzed between the cones.

A call came in that a white Opel was coming down the road. Vigeant was ecstatic. A big catch seemed likely after all.

As it approached, his mood changed. "That wasn't an Opel!" he bellowed into the handset, and he waved the driver away.