BASRA, Iraq, 9 April 2003 — Crowds looted buildings and mobbed British tank units as residents of Iraq’s second-largest city grew more confident Monday that three decades under Saddam Hussein were really over.
British paratroopers entered the city on foot, facing the occasional rattle of machine-gun fire, but otherwise met little resistance. Four US Cobra helicopters swooped overhead as troops advanced toward Algeria Square in the heart of battered, canal-laced Basra.
Iraqi soldiers and Fedayeen brigades seemingly melted into the civilian community or had fled.
On one of their first days without the heavy hand of Saddam’s regime, residents engaged in a melee of looting. Young boys on bicycles, teen-agers on donkey carts and organized posses in vehicles broke locks, smashed windows, set fires and carted off items such as ceiling fans and roofing materials.
The chaos in Basra was a cautionary tale of what could happen in the much larger capital, Baghdad, when years of dictatorship end and central authority teeters.
Those not engaged in the day’s free-for-all blamed the British and Americans for destroying the old order without creating a replacement. British forces said they were busy eliminating the last pockets of resistance.
British soldiers guarded the door of a building with an arched entryway that identified it as the “Artist’s Theater, Basra branch.’’ A 8-by-20-foot room was filled with boxes of plastic explosives, grenades, dozens of mortar rounds, a machine gun and ammunition. “We think this is quite an important find,’’ said Capt. Edward Cornes with the Royal Artillery. “These could do us some damage.’’
Deeper in the theater’s recesses, in a room that once housed props and dressing tables, partially melted ice cubes and a half-eaten meal of bread and tomatoes were signs of how quickly people had fled. In the living quarters were old clothes, a bed and musty mattress. In the corner, four live rabbits and a chicken rustled.
“We deduce they would kill a rabbit and eat one a day,’’ Cornes added. “They’ve probably gone into another area, or perhaps dissolved back into society.’’
Despite predictions that old rivalries would flare, there was little evidence of bloodletting among various tribal or religious groups.
“We can pass through the disagreement period between brothers quickly if people can forget what has been done to them in the past,’’ said Haider Agouti, 31, a teacher.
There was, however, plenty of evidence of looting.
“I’m going to sell these,’’ said Hammond Alas, 20 and unemployed, as he maneuvered a handcart on which 13 green cushioned chairs were precariously balanced. “I got them from the university’s economics and administration department.’’
At the portside Basra Sheraton, looters, mostly young men, carried off carpets, stationary, towels, mattresses and the grand piano as a fire raged on the outside of the building.
In hotel rooms and suites, intruders carefully unscrewed light bulbs ringing bathroom cosmetic tables before they smashed mirrors with clubs. Others tossed doors and bed frames from three-story windows to their cohorts below.
Those not engaged in looting mourned the losses.
“If just one tank would protect the university, it would stop all this,’’ said Ali Khasim, 45, an oil service worker. “I’m happy they took the Hussein regime out, but they have to rebuild something to replace it. The chaos is robbing us of money and our legacy and we’ll suffer later.’’
British troops guarded a few strategic sites, including the central bank, hospitals and nearby oil refineries, but said their first priority was to rid the city of weapons and fighters.
“We’re still in a war,’’ said Capt. Richard Clare with Britain’s 1st Battalion Light Brigade. “The military left, which ruled by fear, and the militia moved out. There’s a vacuum...We can’t protect every building, but we’re trying to protect against looters in the return to normalcy.’’
Across the city, images of Saddam that had dominated every major intersection, government building, hotel, factory, office and military installation as recently as 24 hours ago, were being torn down, defaced or shredded. Left behind were partial images of Saddam in his various public poses: Arab nationalist, businessman, soldier, devout Muslim, and 1970s-style tough in sunglasses.
At Basra Teaching Hospital, exhausted surgeons took a break outside after 19 straight days at work. Wounded civilians hit by gunfire and shrapnel generally start showing up within about two hours of a major air assault or tank battle, said Dr. Ahmed Galibi, a surgeon. On the second floor, a father watched over his son who had been shot in the head. A doctor periodically inserted a suction tube in the boy’s mouth to draw out blood and fluids. “Please tell the British, if they have some one to save my son, to come here,’’ said the father, Mohsen Kannen.
Doctors also have been banding together to guard the hospital against thieves, known locally as “Ali Babas.’’ Monday morning, as seven men tried to steal ambulances and a Land Cruiser, doctors alerted British soldiers. Most of the robbers fled.
