morepopcorna - Tumblr blog

morepopcorna · 2 months ago

Text

Let's imagine for a couple of pages what would have happened to Salim Othman after all the events in real Iraq in 2003. Spoiler alert: nothing good.

Under the wing of the Eagle Saladin

According to the Criminal Code of Iraq No. 11 of 1969, crimes against the internal or external security of the country entail the imposition of the death sentence.

Salim Othman knew that.

He knew when he signed up as a "volunteer" in the Army.

He knew when he was going against the Americans. "For the last time, Dar."

He knew when he went down.

Salim Othman walked in handcuffs down a long corridor. The corridor seemed endless, with prisoners on both sides. Soldiers coming from behind kicked him in the side, then in the ass, ordering him to accelerate. They kicked their own: he broke up with the Americans a couple of days ago, received a broken lip and a sharp pain under his heart from them.

Looks like a broken rib.

They bring him to a new cell, not much different from the old ones. Everything also stinks, damp and cold, he is sitting on the floor. The chair is not given how to drink or eat. Salim does not ask: he has been waiting for the last twenty-something hours.

Waiting to meet his son.

Waiting for news about the condition of colleagues.

Waiting for Death.

Salim sits on his knees in front of the closed bars and tries to hear the voices: other Iraqis who are being tortured and chattering monsters in his head. What happened underground never lets go, and except for scientists in protective suits, he did not talk about it with anyone.

There is a real Sahara desert in the throat, which is irrigated only by rare streams of saliva: Salim holds the only water in his mouth for a long time, tries to remember the moisture on the tongue and palate. Then he swallows and his voice, which is still not allowed to be served, cuts through the thick concrete walls in a cough.

Head hurts wildly. Physically due to hunger and dehydration. Emotionally because of the thoughts about his son, which have not stopped since Othman took up arms again and left home.

Has he returned home? Did he open the gift?

Is he alive?

— Hey! Let me talk to my son! — he grunts to the guard. Anticipates the answer.

— It's not allowed! — a man in uniform hits the iron bars separating him from the prisoner with the butt of his rifle. Next time he promises to attach it to Othman's temple so that he will shut up until the appointed time.

It's pointless to repeat. The guard will not open the bars until he is ordered to. Even for the purposes of education.

Salim knows that. He used to be in his place.

He understands that his time is slow, but nevertheless it is ending. And he never said goodbye to his son.

According to the Military Code of Iraq, failure to comply with the commander's order entails automatic admission to a military tribunal.

— Well, how are things there?

— It's bad. He's under interrogation.

— Again?

— Now he is being interrogated by Iraq. America handed over its accusations to the interim Administration.

— And what does that mean?

— That two countries will blame him.

According to Sharia law, the death penalty is provided for the commission of premeditated murder.

Salim sleeps sitting on his knees. It's bad because every now and then the head tries to tip over to the floor along with the body. But the military man assigned to guard the prisoner does not allow him to lie down. Beats through the cage with a stun gun so that Othman gets up when he starts to fall over. Hits him again when he starts to get up. Slowly, but still.

He hits one last time and then stops.

There are no other prisoners in the cells. Heard somewhere in the distance. Someone also beats a man with a stun gun, pushes a violent man into the camera or vice versa, pulls out a rebel. They are shouting not so much because of injustice, but because of madness. It seems that someone has been sitting here for years.

Although it's just a prison in front of a court.

— Hey, — he turns to the guard again. — What's your name? — It does not matter

Salim grins.

Why are people so ill-mannered? In America and in Iraq?

Why is parenting equated with weakness? Especially now.

— Listen, — Othman continues to test his fate. — I know how it is. I also stood guard a couple of years ago while my son was trying to run home under bullets), — he swallows, gasps for air, is afraid that he will not have enough strength to finish, — I just want to know that he made it this time.

— I don't give a fuck, — the man in camouflage answers, tightening the belt on his shoulder on which the weapon hangs.

He's lying. And Salim knows it.

— I didn't want to go to war, — says the captured Iraqi, somewhere in the void. The guard does not show his face. — I wanted to stay at home and pray to Allah. I wanted to spend my last day with my son.

Licks his lips. Breathes heavily through his mouth. Feels like it's getting colder in the cell. So that steam comes out of the mouth. Although they are in the middle of the desert.

His eyes are closing. It's getting harder to unclench them. Although Salim does not want to look either forward or to the sides. He feels his stomach sticking to his bent spine. Like bile, finding no other way out goes up the walls of the esophagus.

Swallows saliva again.

In the distance, somewhere to the right, some kind of fuss begins. All the guards abandon their posts and run in the same direction. His guard remains in place, although he puts his weapon forward. He looks there, his lips trembling.

Afraid? Othman smiles. Even mocks. He hadn't seen the vampires down there. Doesn't know what the real danger is.

Are they dangerous? For the five survivors? Yes. For the whole world? Hardly. For their own? No. Definitely not.

What distinguished vampires from humans was that they wouldn't go against each other. Salim understood this perfectly. He saw how they covered each other's backs while they dined on human flesh. How they fled to an Iraqi with a crowbar who had previously stabbed several of their comrades.

They may have lacked intelligence, but certainly not humanity. Which they have acquired on Earth and people have lost.

Salim continues to smile.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

So who turned out to be the enemy? His own people.

Perhaps Allah sent them vampires so that they would understand: the enemy is not a neighbor, even if the ocean separates you.

The enemy is an idea that has crept into the brain like a worm and stuck in it, devouring you from the inside.

The enemy is the fear that consumes you and sucks you into the darkness.

The enemy is terrorism which does not know faith, borders and language. He speaks only the language of death.

The enemies were not the Americans, not NATO, not a crazy comrade against the background of faith in Allah.

His enemy is the fear that these vampires fed on.

And as it turned out, now, not only them.

Salim hears the words "attack" and "riot". He hears how criminals are ringing with something iron on the bars, how they motivate those who break into prison, apparently, to release them. As promised, gold and jewelry for the exit. And how long they shout into the silence, which was formed as suddenly as it appeared.

The normative principle of international law is, first of all, to rely on the capabilities of a country's national court before resorting to the extraordinary creation of international tribunals.

— What will happen to us?

— Our trial will take place in a month. In Washington.

— Are we going home?

— I don't know. I don't know what to do.

— I'm staying here until Salim is charged.

— Are you crazy?

— Leave him. He's not risking anything. A soldier of the disbanded Republican Guard of Iraq is not a pity. It is no longer a pity, even for Iraq.

— He can get himself court-martialed.

— And how long have you been fucking with the lives of those who are lower in rank?

— That's enough! Now is not the time!

— Is it not enough for you that yesterday you tried to break into one of the most guarded prisons in Iraq? It was built for only one Saddam.

— Don't push it.

— And what? He risks setting us all up because of this...

— Even if you say a bad word about him, I promise you personally: you will also lose your second leg.

— Shut up! Both of you!

On April 21, 2003, after the US invasion of Iraq on March 19 and the fall of the Bass regime in Iraq, the Provisional Coalition of Iraq was established.

Salim distinguishes between day and night by the narrow gap between the cameras opposite. It's night now. The second night after the arrest. The guard is dozing, leaning against the wall. He tries not to snore so as not to attract the attention of the patrol. They rarely reach Salim's cell, he ends up hearing their approaching footsteps somewhere five meters away from him.

But this time the steps don't end at five meters. They continue. Until a silhouette dressed in black from head to toe appears right in front of Salim. Accompanied by a patrol.

— The Directorate has sent a field commander from Zagros. Read the charge

— And why him?

— Do I know? Open the gate! And so we've been guarding this idiot for days and nights. The sooner we get rid of it, the better

The dark figure enters the cell first, although according to protocol, the accompanying soldier should enter first. He stands in the corner, away from the bars. He points with his hand to leave them. And the soldiers, clicking so loudly that they definitely heard it in the Pentagon, move away from the camera for a couple of meters.

— Salim Othman, I was sent to read your accusation, — a female voice in a burqa begins to speak. In the semi-darkness, Salim sees only brown eyes. —Since the case concerns two sides, Iraq and the United States, I am reading out the accusation in two languages: first in Iraqi, then in English. Then you can send a message to your relatives through me

The voice seems very familiar to Salim. He had heard it somewhere. He frowns, trying to remember, while the woman takes out papers from a folder with a tablet.

He still doesn't remember. He thinks he's already hallucinating.

— Salim Othman, The interim administration of the Iraqi coalition accuses you of committing premeditated murders of a detachment of an intelligence group consisting of fourteen people undermining an intelligence operation in the Zagros Mountains on May 30, 2003, using confiscated weapons and AT4, which resulted in US Air Force losses. On all four counts that have been announced to you, the Iraqi military tribunal will choose a measure of restraint for you tomorrow, June 3, 2003, in a Baghdad court. Salim Othman, Do you understand the charges against you?

Understandable. How can they not be understood.

It's hard, but it's possible.

— Yes.

— The accused?

— Yes, understood.

He says it with irritation.

Why are they torturing him? Can he say something else?

— Good. Now I will read you the same accusation in English.

The Iraqi is being prepared. He takes in more air in his chest to allow oxygen to penetrate into the brain and for him to hear English for the last time.

He grins again. How stupid he is. Tomorrow he will hear more. From the judge.

— Salim Othman, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for rescuing me and my husband, as well as my entire team from the caves. I had no idea that the Iraqi I was holding at gunpoint would protect me at the cost of his life. We are all deeply indebted to you. Your son is now under my personal protection: in the near future we will move him out of the country, give him shelter and shelter. We will help him and protect him until the court releases you from custody. And in case of execution... — the woman stops. She quickly brings his closed hand to his nose and continues. — ... in case of execution, we promise to save him for the rest of our lives.

Salim realizes that he listens to the field commander with his mouth open only when his saliva flows out of his mouth and falls on a uniform dirty with blood and dust. Which has long ceased to be bright green and turned brown.

He tries to make sense of what has been said. He remembers that he should not burn.

Mustn't burn it down.

— Salim Othman, do you have something to say last?

He looks into the brown eyes again. Which treacherously release more than one pair of tears, mostly frozen in the form of drops on the eyelashes.

The woman sniffs.

— We met under the wing of the Eagle Saladin, — the Iraqi whispers, hoping that she will hear him. — And we will meet again. But already under the wing of God.

The first action of the Interim Coalition Administration, under the leadership of Paul Bremer, was the entry into force on May 16, 2003, of Order No. 1 "De-Baathification of Iraqi Society": the introduction of a set of measures aimed at removing from office members of the Iraqi Baath, which was now outlawed and the elimination of their influence on the future of Iraq. The example of the "denazification" of Germany after the end of World War II was taken as a basis.

— Do you understand that this is crazy?

— Yes. But I promised him. That his son would be fine. That if he doesn't come back to his house, then I'll get him out of here.

— When did you have time?

— While you were chewing snot. During the interrogation.

— In my opinion, this is not what we should be talking about right now!

— In my opinion, it doesn't fucking concern you at all. Oh, you're back?

— Hello! Did you find out something?

— Yes. He has a trial in Baghdad tomorrow. The meeting is open. Iraqis are already stocking up on rotten tomatoes and preparing for the spectacle.

— To the spectacle? Which one?

— The Provisional Coalition has requested the death penalty for him.

The Interim Coalition of Iraq was vested with executive, legislative and judicial authority over the country until the establishment of a democratically elected civilian Government.

Othman does not feel like he is being brought into court, taking him by the arms. The third day without food and water makes itself felt. He feels only the touch of a wooden chair with his ass and then a sharp grip on a softened bicep. They don't let him sit down.

The conversations go on endlessly. He is being asked about something.

They pretend to ask. English speech sounds.

— The Prosecutor's Office asks to apply an exceptional measure of punishment in the form of the death penalty by hanging.

On May 23, 2003, by order of the KPA No. 2, the Iraqi Army was officially disbanded.

— Guided by UN Security Council Resolution 1483 as well as military law, the court sentenced Salim Othman to be found guilty of the premeditated murder of fourteen servicemen of the United States Naval Forces of Power Intelligence, namely: Corporal Joseph Kadil, Senior Corporal Stuart Matthews, Officer William Brock, Sergeant Harry Horwood, Lance Corporal Jack Godiff, Master-Sergeant Zach Grossman, Corporal Nathan Merwin, Sergeant Philip Miller, Corporal David Chandler, Officer Ryan Randall, Master Sergeant Ethan Grone, Sergeant Rodrigo Martinez, Officer Michael Tennor, Lance Corporal Jose Gomez. To find guilty of undermining an intelligence operation in the Zagros Mountains on May 30, 2003, with the aim of mass destruction of the military intelligence team of the United States Navy. To find guilty of using confiscated weapons earlier, namely a modernized Kalashnikov assault rifle abbreviated AKM. To be found guilty of using a Swedish disposable anti-tank rocket launcher abbreviated AT4, which caused air losses to the Army of the United States of America. According to all the announced points stated earlier, the Supreme Tribunal of Iraq sentences Othman Salim to death by hanging. Based on the results of an audit conducted by the Central Intelligence Agency, the court takes into account the assistance provided by Salim Othman to the Army of the Naval and Air Forces of the United States of America and replaces the measure of hanging with the measure of beheading. The verdict is not subject to appeal and enters into force immediately.

Salim Othman opens his eyes. The verdict has been read out. It is not subject to appeal. These words are enough to realize that the torment is over. Now he can calmly exhale.

Salim looks around the hall where a huge number of people gathered during the announcement of the verdict: American soldiers, Iraqi onlookers and women who shouted ugly words from beautiful lips.

They all started screaming and yelling, some in English, some in Iraqi, as the soldiers led the accused towards the scaffold.

Funny. They prepared it in advance.

The body goes ahead of Salim. The legs drag somewhere behind. Rotten vegetables get into the chest and face, leaving a mark on the already dirty form. Someone even breaks forward, threatens to tear the former soldier to pieces.

Othman doesn't know how to react. It's not the first time he sees human pain, but for the first time, such a powerful one.

He feels sorry for them. He's going to leave now and they still have to live and live on this earth.

Under the wing of the Eagle Saladin.

He is lifted onto the platform and left somewhere in the middle. They put him on his knees. They allow him to raise his head for the last time and look at the crowd.

Camouflage. Black and white robes merge into a mess. In one disgusting and vile-sounding mess: people are screaming, yelling, even chanting something. He can't make out the faces. They're all the same. Salim looks in vain at everyone who has come, afraid to see his son among them.

He doesn't see it. Thanks, Allah.

He sees only three people standing on the sidelines. Away from the angry crowd wandering here to a public execution as if by accident.

They stand and look only at Salim.

The woman in the black robe.

A man in a light panama hat.

A soldier in a gray cap.

Othman smiles. He laughs to himself. Which makes the crowd even more screaming.

Those who came up from behind begin to read something. In Arabic. Not for him, for the crowd. The bound Iraqi prefers not to listen.

What difference does it make now?

The only thing that matters right now is that Zain is home. It does not matter where exactly: in the old or already new house.

That doesn't see it all. That he's fine. That everything is definitely fine now.

That Salim Othman, after all, survived in the dark. And now he will die under the sun.

Salim hears the blade cutting through the air. As the executioner takes more air into his chest and pulls his hand away from him.

He looks at the sky.

Not a cloud is visible on it.

Only the clear, blinding and burning eyeballs of the sun of Iraq.

In 2005, the first Constitution of Iraq was created. In 2006, Saddam Hussein was executed by hanging. At the time of 2022, the death penalty is actively practiced in Iraq.

#house of ashes #jalim #SalimOthman #TheDarkPictures #dark pictures anthology #House of Ashes

14 notes · View notes