Chapter 6: A Different Kind of Purge

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I know I fucked up quite badly. There were a lot of lessons learned from being shot by my wife. First and foremost, Danger Sense isn't a superpower. It's just an early warning system. If you live in Tornado Alley and the weather forecast warns of tornadoes in your area, it doesnt mean that a funnel won't suddenly form around you. It just means that you'd be a fool to be surprised when it does. And that's what I was...a fool. Sajda shot me when I provoked her. I could have just been diplomatic in the moment and kept away from her as I usually did.

I guess I also didnt need to mutilate Uday. I could have just had him disappeared. It was the mutilation that drove the mother off the edge.

And now I'm in a quandary. The Saddam part of me feels that I would need to off my wife to show the world that you don't shoot Saddam and live. But on the other hand, wife killing after son mutilation would make me seem more like a tyrant to the ordinary man than economic mismanagement. Bizarre as that is. Moreover Sajdas family are embedded into important roles in the Iraqi state. I would need to uproot and perhaps disappear them as well to avoid a coup.

I returned to the Presidential Palace post haste. My shoulder ached like a mother fucker and all I wanted was to load up on opiates and lie in bed all day crying for mummy. But as Saddam, ostensibly a military man, that wouldn't look good. So I manned up and made my way through Baghdad in an open top jeep waving at confused crowds with my good arm. I wanted the news to spread around that Saddam was all good. Not that the public knew yet that my wife had shot me.

The curfew that I had asked Ahmed to impose was well-timed. The army made a show of controlling the streets of the major urban centers and the Mukhbarat gherao-ed the houses of the biggest troublemakers in the country to let them know that Saddam was watching their every move. It meant that for the 1.5 days that I was out of action, there was no uprising in Iraq.

Ahmed and Kamal were hovering around me once I returned to the Presidential Palace. I knew they wanted my attention on something but a petty part of me didn't want to work until I was feeling better. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and asked Kamal what was urgent.

"Your Excellency, the...erstwhile Defence Minister has sought to speak with you at your convenience."

Kamal was much more diplomatic about things than Ahmed was. I looked at my man in the Mukhbarat.

"I think he should stew in the cells for a bit more don't you?"

Ahmed nodded in assent.

"Let him know that his sister shot me and I survived. Let him sit in jail for a week. Rough him up and interrogate him whether it was a Khairallah coup conspiracy."

Ahmed was surprised, "Do you think that's what it was your excellency?"

I shook my head, "No, it was an enraged mother acting without thought. But let him dread what Saddam Hussein might be thinking about his kith and kin."

(Break)

Not one but two weeks later I had a shackled Adnan Khairallah seated before me. He was in formless prisoner clothes which were bloody. He had a black eye and cuts on his face. His hair was straggly and he looked ten years older than his actual age. And exhausted, so exhausted.

I kept quiet, just observing him. He couldn't meet my eyes. Ahmed and another Mukhbarat officer were standing on hand, but I had taken to keeping a pistol in my desk drawer remembering the sudden danger spike before my wife had shot me. I had gotten into the habit of having my right hand wrapped around the weapon during any meeting with anyone. Never again would I go down without a fight. Gods, Saddam's paranoia was getting to me.

Finally Adnan spoke in a raspy voice, "My wife? Children?"

"Shouldnt your first thoughts be for your injured President?" I asked sharply. He bowed his head.

"Your family is safe...for now," I replied ominously. "Until I figure out how deep this Talfah Khairallah treachery runs."

He looked up sharply, "My President, there was no conspiracy."

I hissed in response as if insulted by his words. All play acting.

"Please ...brother...believe me!"

"You lost the right to call me brother when your cunt of a sister shot me!" I roared, rising from my seat.

He whimpered and subsided. I sat down after glaring at him for a minute.

"Adnan tell me why I shouldn't wipe out the Talfahs and Khairallahs?" I asked calmly after a while.

He looked at me horrified and then suddenly spilt out of his chair and prostrated himself, face down. My guards had reacted and were almost done drawing their weapons before I halted them. My danger sense hadn't spiked.

"Mercy Excellency, mercy!" said Adnan although his voice was muffled by the carpet.

I sent him away. The stew was close but not completely ready yet.

I graciously called Adnan back to my office a few days later. I had arranged for him to see his family briefly and for all of them to be cleaned up and dressed properly.

Adnan looked better this time around but still subdued and refusing to meet my eyes.

"I've thought a lot about this treachery over the last few days," I began. His breath hitched as if he wanted to protest but held back. "You all have hurt my heart. But I realised that I couldn't bring myself to wipe out my family no matter how unfaithful they have been."

This was ironic given how badly I had mutilated Uday. But hey, who was going to gain say me?

Adnan looked up, hope shining in his eyes.

"Your sister is no longer my wife," I said in a businesslike tone. " I have arranged the divorce papers. I hope for all of your sakes that you can convince her to sign. One way or the other I'll be free of that treacherous bitch. It's up to you to decide how."

He nodded, either his sister signed the papers of died.

"Your sister, you and your family, and some of the other Khairallahs and their families will be exiled abroad."

His breath hitched again. My eyes narrowed dangerously, "I hope that isn't an issue. If it is, do let me know and we can arrange a resting place domestically."

He shook his head violently, "Most gracious Your Excellency."

"Your sister and you will go to London along with your immediate family. The rest will be spread over the world. Your sister is your responsibility. What she says, what she does I hold you responsible."

He nodded.

"Be very diligent in this task lest you get a night time visitor."

He nodded with a fearful look on his face. He was well aware that I had had political exiles murdered in London before. There was no escaping the Mukhbarat.

"Your sister and you will present yourself in person at the London embassy every two weeks without fail. Should you not turn up even once, I will assume the worst. Some of the Khairallahs and Talfahs who were not involved in this conspiracy will be moved to Baghdad near the Palace. I will take care of them as long as the exiled Khairallahs follow my diktat."

He looked terrified now. He knew what I was saying. Any rebellious activity abroad would mean death for his family that remained behind in Iraq. Plata o plomo.

He got up suddenly and my guards reacted but again I held them off. He bent over my desk, softly grabbed my left hand and placed obsequious kisses on it.

"Thank you for your mercy. Thank you for your mercy!"

(Break)

Pacifying Saddams children was easier and harder than expected. The girls were dismayed and angry that I had divorced their mother and exiled her. But upon realizing that she had shot me they looked thankful that I hadn't simply had her killed. This is the 70s in Iraq after all, no matter how liberal Saddam was, women were still consigned to a lower stratum in society. It wasnt uncommon for wives to be killed by their husbands over forgetting salt in the food let alone shooting them in the shoulder.

Qusay didnt display any emotions towards his mother's fate and was at pains to express his agreement with my actions. I have to say I am incredibly wary of Qusay. He isnt a psychopath like Uday and my danger sense doesnt rise around him but he's too eager and too quiet. It was easier to know what to expect with Uday. I'll have to send him out of Iraq at some point anyway. Theres no way to create a meritocratic society when your own son expects to succeed you as absolute ruler. When it dawned on him that his father intended to leave a democratic society as his legacy would he not attempt a coup?

You may think that dislodging the Raifallahs and Talfahs was an unexpected boon but it really wasn't. They were amongst my stalwart supporters and kept the armed forces and ministries in line for me albeit at the cost of massive apathy and corruption. I admit i had always planned to remove them to enforce meritocratic reforms but the timing was really poor. I had power vacuums in various key positions in my armed forces and I expected a hairy few years once my deal with America became operation in the coming months.

I needed quick replacements in the armed forces that wouldn't weaken me. The problem with delegating that task was that in Iraq, the delegate would usually, gleefully fill up the designated institution with their own cherry picked candidates. I mean that's exactly how Saddam became President in the first place. So I couldn't even leave the task to someone like Ahmed because despite his apparent loyalty he could do the very same thing as well. And moreover being in a senior position in the Mukhbarat he would then effectively own the army and secret police. Leaving me fucked.

No plan seemed to be a good plan. But I finally devised one which should be a decent stop gap. I asked Kamal to give me an organization chart of the armed forces. That exercise took a couple of weeks in itself. But once I had the reams of papers with the structure I meticulously began marking two things: the vacancies created by ejecting powerful Raifallahs and soldiers who I had chosen at random to interview.

(Break)

Private Abbas squirmed in the fancy chair in front of the large wooden desk. Somehow he had found himself in the presidential palace and in the office of the President himself. He didnt know whether to be terrified or excited. He had heard stories of the President's extraordinary generosity and extraordinary brutality. His mind was like a movie reel going over his past experiences again and again wondering whether he did something to warrant punishment by the President himself. Despite the fans and cool garden breeze wafting through the large windows, Abbas found himself sweating.

The doors to the office opened and Abbas nearly jumped. He scrambled to his feet and threw a quick, robotic salute to his Commander in Chief, standing at attention while he did do.

"Sit, sit Private and relax!" I said as warmly as I could manage. I walked up to the shaking private and shook his hand. He looked terrified and relieved at the same time.

"Kamal bring some dates and chilled beer for us," I said to my aide who acquiesced and left to make arrangements.

"I do hope you'll join me for a drink Private?"

"Y...yes of course your maje..I mean your excellency!"

I almost laughed at his faux pas. Almost.

"Excellent!" I replied sitting in my seat.

I chatted with him about his family and barracks sharing some of Saddams stories from his army days and embellishing a few things. Slowly Abbas started to relax and even more so after he had begun sipping his ice cold hefeweizen.

"So to business Private," I said clapping my hands together.

He immediately stopped smiling and straightened up in his chair, sloshing some beer onto his clothes. I watched him as he hurriedly tried to clean the stain. I pretended I hadn't seen.

"Private as you know there had been a sudden vacancy in your unit."

He nodded, "Yes sir. I am aware."

"Unfortunately we found traitors and imbeciles embedded in our glorious army and have had to initiate a program of reform."

He looked awed.

"One such program is to take the views of loyal and brave foot soldiers such as yourself as to the individuals who would make the best commanders for their units. After all the soldier on the front is the one who knows who is best lead him."

Abbas looked immediately taken with the idea, but embarrassed as well, "Sir with all due respect, I'm not very educated. I fear I would be a bad person to ask about it."

I waved off his worry magnanimously and chuckled, "Dont worry private. I'm not putting the entire headache of selection on your shoulders. I will talk to others in your unit as well. I am just seeking your opinion. Relax relax. Have some beer and just share your thoughts openly."

And he did. He shared the names of 5 senior soldiers in his unit who he thought would be good officers. I noted all of them down. And then I repeated the process another 500 times.

I started with the base units and then after identifying the people who were commonly considered good leaders I brought them in to congratulate them on their promotion and then seek their own opinions on who were the best people to be their immediate bosses and so on and so forth.

There were complications of course, the ordinarily soldiers were much more honest in their evaluations but I couldn't expect the same from senior officers who might seek to game the system. So I ignored the top 2 recommendations that each senior officer gave and focused on the lower priority ones. Again it was that issue of not letting family networks form in chains of command.

The process took me a month and we came dangerously close to the time beginning of the American Deal. But eventually with Kamals help we got it done in time. I now had an army that was at least partly led by competent officers. But the whole thing was new. Not tried and tested. And I would be soon sending them into the crucible of Iraqi Kurdistan and its fierce warriors.