Blogorrhoea on the Fall of Baghdad(tm):
So anyway – a Marine fashioned a hood for the condemned statue out of a large Stars’n’Stripes. You could hear a subtle change in tone emanating from the baying hundreds assembled, and a lieutenant must’ve remembered the fuss about that flag at Basra, because back up went the Marine to remove the flag. Eventually an Iraqi flag was found, and up the Marine went again. The flag wasn’t big enough (perhaps the US just make their flags bigger than anyone else makes theirs) and the Marine was obliged to afix the flag in the manner of a tie before climbing back down to safety. I could almost here the officer shouting “Ya sure ya wanna drape Saddam in the nation’s colours, Chuck? Ya sure ya wanna be seen by about a billion people tearing down the Iraqi flag with a US demolition vehicle, Chuck? Ya sure ya wanna be court-martialled, Chuck?” So up went Chuck again. And off came the flag. Then Saddam hung on grimly for a bit. Then he fell. And then the baying hundreds were upon him.
It’s always nice to see a bastard symbolically undone (no matter how much you doubt the intentions and wisdom of the conquerer; no matter how much you fear for the future) and I do remember thinking it’d be nice to be there to feel the moment. Then I remember thinking, gee, a few hundred isn’t a big crowd for a city of five million at such a time, is it? Still, the Grand Toppling was taking place in an area inhabited by the well- connected and the wealthy, and many suburbs remain ensnared in the grip of war, so I’ll reserve my judgement as to what the decisive sentiment in Baghdad will show itself to be over the coming weeks (I remain most dismarrhoeaic about the months and the years).