By Nick Wadhams
The Associated Press, 22 January 2006.
MOSUL, Iraq - The hundreds of Iraqi interpreters who work for the U.S. military conceal their identities in distinctive ways. One wears a bulletproof Kevlar helmet and a black mask. Another wears sunglasses and a balaclava that covers his entire head.
What they share is the extraordinary danger of their job. Targeted for death by insurgents, they also face suspicion from their own employers and often lie to relatives for fear that word of their job will get out.
Yet the "terps," as they are known among U.S. troops, play a crucial and largely unheralded role in Iraq. As the United States shifts to trying to win the loyalty of Iraqis rather than simply waging war, their job goes well beyond translation to include passing on intelligence and educating troops on Iraq's religious and tribal tapestry.
"For doing what they're doing and all the risks they take, they give us a lot of information on a lot of bad people," said Sgt. Adam Smith, 29, of Ocala, Fla., of the 172nd Stryker Brigade's 2nd Battalion, 1st Infantry Regiment.
Interpreters in this city have given the Americans tips that led to the arrest of suspected terrorists. They even have been allowed to slip into dangerous neighborhoods and collect intelligence about insurgent operations. When American soldiers interview Iraqis, they may ask questions in a particular way or even suggest that a different question might be more effective.
When a helicopter crashed in Mosul on Jan. 13, translator Selva Serkes, a U.S. citizen, made cell phone calls from the scene to find out the location of Iraqi police units that were supposed to have arrived but had yet to show.
The degree of freedom that interpreters are allowed largely depends on the unit. Some, like Smith's, give them extraordinary leeway and occasionally allow them to take extra days off. Others keep them closer in line, either out of mistrust or understanding of the inherent threats they face.
"The enemy doesn't abide by any human laws or laws of warfare, so one of these guys could get squeezed and have the whole family kidnapped," said Capt. Sean Troyer, 33, of Austin, Texas.
There have been some reported cases of insurgents using interpreters as spies to report troop operations and other information from U.S. bases, where most live under close supervision. As a result, they are allowed to carry no electronic devices, though some have televisions in their rooms. Cell phones and knives with blades longer than 4 inches also are out. So are USB drives, computer disks and CDs.
Yet the danger seems far greater from the other side — the threat of insurgent attacks. In May, the U.S. Labor Department released figures that showed interpreters accounted for 40 percent of the more than 300 death claims filed by private contractors. Titan, which employs thousands of them across the country, reported more deaths among its contractors than any other company.
"Your mind is always working," said one interpreter, who only would give his first name, Yasser. "When we go home, when we drive, we don't look ahead. We just look in the mirror."
Yasser said he had survived two attempts on his life. Another interpreter, nicknamed "Billy" by U.S. soldiers, bears a bullet scar over his right ear where insurgents shot him.
As a result of that danger, being a translator in Iraq requires the maintenance of a number of illusions. They usually do not tell anyone but their closest relatives and friends what they do. Some move to a new city to escape suspicion or, if they confront someone they know while on the job, adopt a fake accent so their voices will not be recognized.
One translator, nicknamed "Safe," said he is ready to find a wife and raise children. But families of potential brides refuse him.
"They don't accept the interpreters here because they say it's too dangerous for their daughter," the 36-year-old man said. "Many times I've tried, but they don't want me, so I lie."
Their motivations for such a risky job differ widely, but many acknowledge they do it for the cash. They earn $1,050 for working 26 days a month — phenomenal in a country where soldiers earn half that and unemployment is estimated between 25 and 30 percent.
Living on U.S. bases, they have access to medical service and the bounty of the chow hall, where fresh salad, chicken wings, ribs, pasta, cereal and coffee are replenished each day.
"Yes, it's true we want to help our country, but we need money," Yasser said.
Eventually, he said he hoped his job would allow him to leave Iraq.
For Safe, the decision to work for the Americans was more complex. He remembers life under Saddam Hussein, when he would finish his teaching job and head to the market to sell whatever he could — even doors from inside his home.
He also remembers how, shortly before the war, he challenged government officials when they denied him a permit to build a new house. He lost his temper that day, shouting that he hoped the United States would invade because once it did, they would be jailed. The officials threatened him and he told them to come arrest him because he had nothing to defend, not even a home.
"I told them that if the Americans come, I would say, 'Welcome,'" Safe said.
Safe applied for the job eight times before he got it. He said he was so determined because of the death of his nephew, slain by unknown men for working at U.S. base.
"The most important part for me is to get revenge on the people who killed my nephew," Safe said. "When they killed him, we lost everything."
Citation: Nick Wadhams. "Iraq Interpreters Face Threats, Alienation," The Associated Press, 22 January 2006.
Original URL: http://abcnews.go.com/International/print?id=1531268