Day 7 of the war and “Operation Iraqi Freedom” doesn’t seem to be going too well. Not that the coalition would ever admit it. Just a few weeks ago, Pentagon sources were claiming the whole thing would be over in a week but sandstorms and what the Allies insist on calling “stiff resistance” have got in the way. As for the Northern Front – the part of the war we’re supposed to be covering – well, Turkey’s intrasigence has brought that to a standstill.
Meanwhile, Jim’s unswerving commitment to the journalistic “real thing” knows no bounds. While in theory that’s an admirable trait, in practice it’s damned uncomfortable. Jim’s pursuit of a story involves driving to the top of rugged snow-dusted mountains in the dark and sleeping on the cold stone floors of guard houses “just in case something happens.” My pursuit of a story involves sleeping underneath duvets in warm hotel rooms just in case something DOESN’T happen.
Mercifully, this evening’s planned excursion to the front line has been cancelled due to poor weather. Whenever anyone rings from London they assume we’re in the middle of a desert. In fact, it’s pissing down with rain. Even if we had gone to the mountains we wouldn’t have been able to see anything and we’d probably have died of pneumonia. It’s on days like this that I pity those poor peshmerga camped out on their hilltop positions. They must be having a desperate time.