and the interpreter walked by a row of houses situated in the village of Zuwiyah. The loosely spaced residences were typical, if relatively affluent examples of the area’s architecture. One- and two-story concrete block structures of muted earth tones lined the road, surrounded by tall brick walls usually split by a metal gate. Here and there palm trees flanked or peeked over the courtyard walls, and scraggly green bushes of hardy flora burst from the powdered dirt shoulders of the road. Whisnant’s delegation soon arrived at their destination—a simple two-story house. Oddly, all of the lights in the neighborhood were out.
The major posted his security element around the building and crossed the courtyard to the front door with his interpreter and the military intelligence Marine whose radio call sign was “Saint One.” One of the homeowners, a tall, reed-thin man named Ma’an Khalid Aifan al-Issawi, was waiting at the door. A smile flashed from his dark brown skin, and the young man gave each of the visitors a soft handshake. “Welcome,” he said in thickly accented English.19
Ma’an was glad to be hosting the meeting. It might mark an opportunity to fight back against the groups who were threatening his tribe and close family members. Ma’an’s grievances were many: the insurgents practiced a radical form of Islam alien to the local tradition and killed all who disagreed with them; his tribesmen considered themselves to be pious Muslims, but the radical insurgent takfiris (those who accuse others of apostasy) considered any Muslim who failed to meet their draconian litmus test to be kafir, a nonbeliever. And they murdered kafirs, often in creatively cruel ways. The radicals had even forced marriages between foreign insurgents and women of Anbar province’s tribes.
While many of Ma’an’s fellow tribesmen had hesitated, the twenty-four-year-old lawyer by training had joined his cousin Aifan’s lonely vanguard of fighters itching to wage war against al Qaeda and traitorous tribesmen working on its behalf. The enemy, however, was strong. The foreign radicals had plenty of money to back their murderous ideology, and corrupted some Iraqis with it. They also wielded the sword with ruthless impunity at a time when local fighters could not openly carry weapons to defend themselves, lest they get shot or imprisoned by Marines as suspected insurgents.20 Ma’an and Sheikh Aifan wanted U.S. military resources to launch their fight against the radicals, to be sure. More fundamentally, they needed the Americans to let them openly carry arms and recruit fighters to guard their village and attack the irhabiyin (terrorists).21
Ma’an hoped that the meeting with the Americans would go well, although he had skepticism borne of experience. Previous U.S. units had failed to deliver on their promises, and it seemed that one group of soldiers had barely arrived before new ones replaced them. Still, he held out hope that a deal was possible. His cousin Sheikh Aifan was strong willed and easy to anger, but he was willing to fight. And the sheikh also wasn’t shy about telling anyone who would listen what he needed to begin that fight. From Ma’an’s experience with Americans, he had a feeling that they would like his cousin’s aggressive style.22
Ma’an led the men into his darkened house. A smattering of candles flickered low light over a typically hospitable Arab spread of dates, fruit, vegetables, and bread atop a row of TV trays in a main room. The visitors removed their gear and placed their rifles against a wall as a show of good faith; they kept their sidearms. Ma’an motioned them over to chairs set up in front of the trays, putting their backs to the entrance of the house. A man got up from his position on a low couch opposite the chairs. He wore pale robes under a dark suit jacket, and his head was enigmatically wrapped in a red-and-white checkered shemagh. Only passionate brown eyes and the top of his nose remained visible. He offered a loose handshake and spoke in surprisingly good English.23
“Greetings sir, welcome sir. Thank you for coming. Call me ‘Dark.’”24 Sheikh Aifan, now “Dark,” was doing his best to cast an atmosphere of secrecy and intrigue over the late-night rendezvous. This was an understandable precaution. Al Qaeda inevitably attempted to kill (brutally, if possible, to set an example) anyone openly meeting with Americans. Regardless, Whisnant still chuckled to himself at the cloak-and-dagger theatrics. The odds of neighbors failing to notice the retinue of armored Marines traipsing through their village and entering this house defied any prospects for secrecy.
Everyone sat, and the Americans politely sampled the food. Dark began speaking in an Arabic that even the Marines recognized as a particularly formal dialect. Caesar translated the sheikh’s brief pleasantries, which were followed by a list of grievances against al Qaeda and his other enemies. Dark said he hoped for U.S. support and an active alliance with his men, who would provide intelligence and identify the insurgents for the Marines. He enthusiastically handed them leaflets he had created denigrating the foreign radicals and “traitors.” As the sheikh continued, his formality ebbed. His words became casual Arabic, then English, and the forthright passion of his nature surfaced. He removed his head covering, revealing a neatly trimmed beard bordering the full face of a man who looked to be in his thirties.25
“Give me the support I’ve been promised [by Americans] in Jordan,” Dark said. The Marines were perplexed. They knew of no specific promises. The sheikh also expressed that he needed his men to be able to carry weapons, and he asked for the release of some tribesmen who had been detained by the Marines.
“What authority do you have to speak for the tribe?” queried Saint One, the military intelligence Marine. He then specifically asked Dark whether he had the support of the paramount sheikh, Khamis. Dark bristled at the question. The American continued probing along these lines, asking the young sheikh about his motivation and placement, while Whisnant silently observed.
“Sheikh Khamis is an old man,” came the response. “He doesn’t have the will to fight al Qaeda like I do,” said Dark. Still, the Marines emphasized that they would need assurances from Khamis about the younger sheikh’s authority to speak for the tribe.26
Ma’an had considered how he might help deliver what the Americans were requesting. Dark and Khamis weren’t close and didn’t see eye-to-eye on how to deal with the mujahidin. Khamis was indeed old and careful; he was shrewdly hesitant about the idea of openly declaring war on the radicals and doubted Dark’s enthusiasm. Ma’an, however, was favored by the paramount sheikh, his uncle. He could serve as a link between Khamis and Dark, and believed he could even help persuade Khamis to show enough support for his cousin to set in motion a deal with the Americans.27
Dark was as eager to work with the Marines as Khamis was hesitant. The young sheikh wanted weapons to destroy the takfiris and business contracts to increase his stature within the tribe.28 As only the fifteenth son of the first son of Sadoun Aifan, the patriarch of the leading family, he lacked the lineage and experience of the paramount sheikh, his other uncles, and several older brothers. At the same time, while birth order is important in Arab tribes, it is not the only thing. Three idealized, traditional virtues signify great men: a sheikh’s courage, leadership, and luck (hadn). Dark’s burning ambition fueled the first two traits. God’s will would determine his luck.
A sheikh is also elevated as a leader based on the unspoken criteria of the security and largess he can obtain for the tribe. Dark had a plan to acquire both.29 He had followed the meteoric rise of Abdul Sattar Abu Risha, an ambitious sheikh to the west, near Ramadi, the capital of Anbar province. Sattar was a relatively young sheikh heading the Abu Risha, a historically minor tribe, but was transforming his cooperation with the Americans and his brave willingness to stand up to al Qaeda into victories against the radicals and rapid advancement for himself and his people. His name rang out in Anbar.
Dark knew Sattar personally and admired his path, while undoubtedly viewing him as a competitor for regional power and business. While some of the Albu Issa had stood up to insurgents at about the same time, Sattar’s formation of the Anbar Salvation Council, a confederation against al Qaeda, had obtained license from both the Americans and the government of Iraq to organize and fight. In the near term,
