Thom Westcott
Rov in g Repor ter
It’s another dusty, sandy day in Iraq, as one of the country’s armed units makes its last push to take the Tal Afar airport, controlled by the Islamic State (ISIS) for the last two and a half years. Around 45 miles from Mosul - ISIS’S stronghold in Iraq – Tal Afar town, and the outlying airport, is the penultimate battle. Strategically-located on the desert route into Syria, the town is ISIS’ last supply and escape route from Mosul.
After watching several convoys of Humvees and tanks hurtle across the desert terrain towards the airport, I find myself in what is best described as a vast field of dirt, its infinite stretch interrupted only by the rows of sand berms that keep Iraqi forces safe from ISIS attacks. Amongst the assorted vehicles preparing to form yet another convoy, I spot a nice sand-coloured Land Rover, into which army personnel are piling.
Before it can vanish into the ranks of the convoy, I stomp swiftly over the neverending field of dirt and lean in through the open driver’s door, to introduce myself as a journalist from England. Packed into what, on closer inspection, is this slightly battered armoured Land Rover are four handsome young Iraqi soldiers.
In this barren wilderness of war zone, my appearance appears to be as welcome a diversion to them as their Land Rover is to me. With my poor Arabic, I do my usual little sketch about being from England and the Land Rover being from England, so like an automatic friend.
“We are from Tal Afar,” they declare, proudly. “We are all Turkmen from Tal Afar.” Iraqi Turkmen – a Turkic ethnic group which is the third largest in Iraq – historically make up around 75 per cent of Tal Afar’s population. Around a quarter of these were Shia Muslims, against whom many of their Sunni neighbours, including fellow Turkmen, headed a cruel and bloody persecution under ISIS. After more than two years of living as displaced people, they finally have their sights set on liberating their hometown.
“We have been fighting here these last few days, and now we are going to fight ISIS at the airport,” one of them says. “And then we will fight them in Tal Afar, to get our city back.”
When I ask about the Land Rover, one of its passengers declares enthusiastically: “Ah, this is a great old vehicle, the best in the world.” They seem a little hazy about its exact age but say they think it was made in 2004.
The Land Rover’s driver returns and seems somewhat incredulous to discover a British hack leaning over his seat and trying to communicate with his passengers in a partially-understood mix of languages along with copious gestures and grins. He seizes the day by employing what I have discovered is a national pastime and penchant for selfies and photographs, even while missiles start shooting out from behind us towards the airport, preparing the way for ground forces to advance.
His sole concern appears to be getting as many photos as possible with me in the two minutes he has to get the Land Rover into its place in the convoy. Perched on its bonnet with him for yet more photos, I see this vehicle has been well used and abused over its 12-year lifespan. The bodywork features a smattering of dents and bashes, chips and tarnishes. Even the tiny, circular Land Rover logo on the bumper now only bears the ‘Land’, with the ‘Rover’ worn away into oblivion.
Before I have a chance to ask any more questions, a great tooting of horns and the appearance of a rather cross-looking commander’s face poking through the window of a Humvee, spurs the driver into action, and he hops off the bonnet and climbs in behind the wheel.
“Look at this terrible old piece of rubbish,” he says, fishing around for the ignition, which is dangling below the steering wheel from a little string of wires. “Really, I can’t believe we’re going to fight ISIS at the airport in this awful vehicle. I hate it.” I am dismayed. “You’re joking, right?” I ask. “Land Rovers are great.” He looks slightly pityingly at me, and shakes his head, stating flatly: “Not this one!” I wish them luck in their fight for Tal Afar airport and reclaiming their hometown. The Turkmen grin out at me and one shouts: “When we have finished fighting ISIS here in Iraq, we will go to Syria to fight them there, and then we will go to Turkey to fight them there.” One of them adds: “We have nothing against the Turkish people, but we hate the Turkish government.”
The driver slams the door with an unhappy metallic crack and I wave them off as the Land Rover makes a wide circle in the dirt to take its place in the convoy heading for the frontline at the airport.