Lewis Alsamari - Out of Iraq

Contents

For my family

In his eighteenth year, Lewis Alsamari was conscripted into the Iraqi army. Once his superiors discovered his ability to speak English, things went from bad to worse. Lewis was selected for Saddams elite, top-secret intelligence service, an offer he literally could not refuse. Only one option remained to flee from his native land, leaving his family behind ...

Making his escape from the army compound where he was posted, Lewis was shot in the leg. A gruelling journey ensued, across the desert at night with a group of Bedouin and at the mercy of ravenous wolves. Against the odds, Lewis made it over the border into Jordan and eventually sought asylum in the UK, where he had spent his childhood.

Now Lewis had to work out how to rescue his mother, brother and sister, who had been left behind in Iraq and jailed once his escape became known. The only thing that could help was money and lots of it. At which point Lewis hatched the most audacious plan of his life ...

Lewis Alsamari was born in Iraq and spent a few years of his early childhood in the UK. He is now an actor and recently starred in Paul Greengrasss massively acclaimed film United 93, in which he plays an Al Qaeda hijacker. He now lives in London.

Throughout my life many people have helped me enormously, and an almost equal number have hindered me. Some of these people operated within the law, others didnt. As a result, I have changed certain names to protect both the innocent and the guilty.

When I arrived in England, I took the name Lewis. My Arabic name is Sarmed, which is how I refer to myself throughout much of the book.

August 1994. The Iraqi desert, somewhere near the Jordanian border, several hours before daybreak

I stood perfectly still and tried to accustom myself to the solitude and the silence.

It took me some minutes to compose myself, but eventually I started to make my way towards the road. Now that I was alone my senses became heightened as I strained my eyes and ears to judge if any unknown danger was close by. Occasionally I would look back and think I had caught a glimpse of the patrol cars headlights; but if I did, they were distant they would not be able to see me from so far away. I could just make out the road from where I was, and there were no patrols ahead; I would be very unlucky to meet anybody now unless I was forced to fire the Beretta, and as all seemed reasonably silent around me I decided not to do that.

I soon realized, however, that in the desert sounds could be deceptive. More than once I stopped still because I thought I heard a noise alarmingly close, but I told myself over and over again that it was a faraway sound carried to me by the fickle night breeze. I kept the pace as fast as my wounded leg would allow, with my eyes fixed on the occasional light from the road ahead, and I realized that it was not only sounds that could be deceiving, but distances also. Although I had no conception of time, the road did not appear to be getting any closer, and the longer I hurried through that dark expanse, the more unnerving my solitude became. As I walked, I could feel the swab around my bullet wound become wet clearly the stitches had opened slightly from the movement.

Then, out of the darkness, I heard a sound that immediately stopped me dead. It was not new to my ears it was unmistakably the same howling that I had heard earlier that evening but it was shockingly close. I stood still for some moments, aware only of the trembling whisper of my own heavy breath, before hearing another howl that made the blood stop in my veins. It was as loud as the first and no less desperate, but it was not its closeness that filled me with a sickening sense of horror: it was the direction from which it came. The first wolf had been somewhere to my right, the second to my left.

I have never known fear like it. A cold wave of dread crashed over me; I felt nauseous and all the strength seemed to drain from my body. I know I should have fired my gun in the air, but in that minute some other impulse took over, an impulse that forced any faculty of reason from my head and replaced it with blind panic. Foolishly, I ran.

I could never have outrun them. They were lean, desperate with hunger; this was their territory. I was limping and terrified. The more noise I made, the more I attracted their attention. I became aware of more wolves around me I dont know how many, but it was clear they were hunting as a pack and I was their quarry. Blinded by my tears, I stumbled, and their baying became more frenzied.

Then, as if by some prearranged signal, the pack fell silent...

Baghdad, nine months earlier

BAGHDAD MILITARY TRAINING centre lay by a main road on the outskirts of the city. It was large and utilitarian, and I felt dwarfed by it as I approached the main entrance. The sun was burning, and the cars in the busy street had all their windows wound down, their drivers crumpled and oppressed by the midday heat. I wiped a trickle of sweat from my forehead and looked up at the high walls of the building: a huge picture of Saddam Hussein returned my gaze. It was a familiar sight, one that had been commonplace in my life for as long as I could remember. The gates of Al-Zahawi primary school, which I had attended as a child, were colourful, painted with a huge yellow bumble bee to welcome the children; but on the walls on either side of the bumble bee were paintings of Saddam. His Excellency smiled down benevolently upon us, and around his head flew birds painted in the colours of the national flag. Inside, high up on the walls, were more pictures of Saddam and the slogans of the Baath party One Arab nation with an everlasting message, Unity, Freedom and Communism as well as one of Saddams favourite sayings: Always look your enemy in the eye.

Today, however, the images seemed more threatening than ever the very embodiment of everything from which I had been trying to break free.

I dont want to be in the army, I had told my uncle Saad petulantly when it had become apparent that no other option was open to me.

You havent got any choice. Youve been called up, and if you dont go they will consider you to be an absconder. When they catch up with you which they will if you are still in the country... He made a deft flicking sign by his right ear to indicate its removal, the standard punishment for anyone who went AWOL. Ive seen people selling these ears on the black market so that absconders can have them sewn back on. Trust me, they are not a pretty sight.

For a moment I thought he was joking, but one glance at his face told me that he wasnt. Will you keep looking for someone to help us?

Nervously Saad checked that no passer-by no matter how innocent they seemed could overhear our conversation. Idle talk tended to find its way back to the intelligence services, and the consequences could be severe. I dont know, Sarmed. The stakes are higher now. Not attending university is one thing, but running away from the army is quite another. If any of my colleagues were caught absconding twice during the IranIraq war, they were shot in front of their relatives. They were told it was their fault their sons were being executed, because they had allowed their children to grow up into opponents of the regime.

I know, I insisted quietly. Thats why I want to leave. I dont want to be part of it. Please, keep looking for me.

I stepped down from the truck with my fellow cadets and approached the entrance to the centre.

Inside, everything was painted an austere military green. Huge metal structures around the edge of the main parade ground housed the various quarters, and nowhere was there any decoration apart, of course, from the ubiquitous pictures of Saddam in military uniform. In some pictures his military medals were on display; others showed him firing an RPG or an AK-47. I was handed my military ID, given my uniform, boots, beret and belt and shown to my quarters. I was in a huge dormitory with metal beds neatly arranged along its length, and a thin strip of window along the top of the wall let in only a small amount of light. Once I had stowed my few belongings under my bed, I was taken off to have my hair shaved. There was no time after that to get settled in: my training began that very day.