Moving pictures

The Iraqi landscape moves by pretty quickly when staring from the side window of a Humvee.

As we move at speeds between 5 and 30 mph, people pass through the “Humvee TV” frame at alarming speed. Some scenes pass so quickly, I’m not sure what I saw until I look at the frozen frame on the back of my digital camera.

As an embedded journalist covering Fort Carson’s 3rd Brigade Combat Team, I see Iraq as the soldiers do — sort of.

The soldiers and I are looking at the same scene, but we interpret things differently.

I search for Iraqi faces, children waving, interesting backgrounds, Arabic writing, people doing their daily routine, fleeting moments and sunset light — things that make an interesting picture.

The soldiers scan for signs of danger, looking for anything that seems out of place. If the road is torn up ahead, or if wires are sticking out of potholes, it may indicate a concealed IED.

They watch the hands of the people they pass to see if they are hidden in pockets where a remote trigger or a weapon could be.

They watch vehicles moving toward them that don’t keep their distance. Is there one person in the car, or a family? One person without a family could be a suicide bomber.

None of these things are on my radar while I roll in a Humvee. But I do grow wary of my surroundings and the possible threats any time I’m on foot.

Still, Humvee TV represents only a glimpse of what the soldiers see during their 15-month deployment.

Taking photos while sitting in the back seat of a Humvee heading down the trashfilled dirt roads in the suburbs of Baghdad offers a quick but riveting look at where Iraq stands after nearly five years of war.

As a first-timer to Iraq, I try to keep an open mind on what to expect around the country. At first, all I saw was the trash in the streets, the dirt roads and the raw sewage floating around many towns.

After spending more time in different towns, I have started to notice some improvements. Soldiers with the 3rd Brigade on their second or third tour point out areas of change. They say there are more satellite dishes and more signs of electricity. Some businesses are selling washers and dryers while others are selling televisions.

On a mission to the town of Husseiniya, which has a population between 500,000 and 750,000 people, I watch as Carson soldiers on foot patrol stop to talk to locals about their concerns. What they want most, they say, is electricity. Clearly, there still are improvements to be made in Iraq.

As we drive through the streets, I see children smiling and waving to the passing convoy while many run alongside the Humvee as it moves slowly down the street.

It is business as usual for many older Iraqis who simply go about their day as a horse-drawn cart passes on the opposite side of the road.

Other small villages east of Camp Taji, about 20 miles north of downtown Baghdad, are full of life as children make their way home from school. A shepherd runs along the side of his herd to keep them from running into the road as he moves them from one patch of vegetation to another.

Other men keep busy selling fresh goods at a market stand.

Farther down the road I see one of many men sitting next to a shack, selling black-market gasoline. He has several large containers of gas and two makeshift funnels made from plastic soda containers.

I like showing readers what the soldiers see.

But I cannot replicate the weary, watchful and diligent eyes of the soldiers who gaze with me.