To Iraq and Back

By: Ari Berman EVANSTON, Ill. -- They braved vicious sandstorms, dodged enemy fire, whirled around in tanks, readily donned camouflage, and vividly exported news of the war back home. Now, of the twenty-three journalists from the Chicago Tribune assigned to cover the war in Iraq, only seven remain in the region. The rest have returned, eager to tell their stories, this time in spiffy suits, shiny ties and debonair glasses.

The spacious atmosphere of Thorne Auditorium at Northwestern University's School of Law, where four Tribune reporters and one editor discussed "the stories behind the story," was a far cry from the brutal uncertainty of the Iraqi desert. Near the stage a table covered with a gas mask, chemical suit, Kevlar vest and combat helmet reminded the audience of the chilling preparations for war. Luckily these items proved largely useless and instead the journalists -- assembled publicly for the first time -- disclosed fears, offered recollections, critiqued coverage, and applauded the courage of their profession.

Laurie Goering, normally the Tribune's Africa correspondent, was one of the first unilaterals to enter Southern Iraq through Kuwait. She first reported from the port of Umm Qasr, which was officially taken by coalition forces a full week after initial media speculation, witnessed the first public Shiite religious celebration in thirty years then decided to travel to Nasiriya despite conflicting reports on safety. Hugh Dellios, a Latin American correspondent covering Centcom in Doha, Qatar, called Goering to tell her that Iraqis were celebrating the downfall of Saddam Hussein's regime in eastern Baghdad. "She said 'I'm going," Dellios recalled. "I think she might have been the first unilateral in Baghdad."

Goering's scariest moment came in a British military compound in Basra. In the middle of the night, an RPG hit the center of the building. The British immediately opened fire, then moved into their tanks. Goering worried that the Brits would leave without her. At the last minute a warrior tank pulled up and an officer yelled "run, run." Goering hopped into the tank and later the officers joked that they regretted the turbulence, offering her and photographer Stephanie Sinclair mints.

On the embed front, Ray Quintanilla, with the U.S. Army 3rd Infantry and Evan Osnos, embedded with the 1st Marines, 7th Battalion, disputed claims that journalists candy-coated the news. "I didn't change anything because I was with a unit," Quintanilla, normally a metro reporter, said. "The first day the captain asked if a major could read my stories and I laughed him off and said 'You gotta be kidding.' Nothing ever came of it."

Iraq was the first war experience for the fresh-faced Osnos, a national correspondent based in New York whose father covered the Vietnam War for the Washington Post. "No reporter shelved material out of a sense of loyalty," he said. "The war went so smoothly that the real limits of embedding were not tested."

But Dellios had a slightly different perspective, recounting how a reporter from a sister paper was threatened with expulsion by her commander for reporting that U.S. troops stole a chicken and called local Iraqis disparaging names.

When things got off to a rocky start after Centcom said everything was going as planned, the Tribune relied on embeds to convey a more realistic picture. Dellios gave Pentagon spokesman Vincent Brooks high marks for composure but said he never disclosed enough information.

Staying in Qatar, Dellios recognized the stark contrast between American and Arab media coverage:. "While we were watching the rescue of Jessica Lynch, the Arab world saw the bloody victims of war. Arabs don't care about American soldiers, they care about their dying brothers. That widened the chasm between us. There's lots of work to be done to close that gap."

Tim McNulty, the associate managing editor/foreign news, defended his staff, saying they wrote fairly, without the political bent of the European or Arab press. He said the Tribune did run photos of dead American soldiers but also complied with the Pentagon's request to not use identifiable pictures.

His colleagues admitted they had no idea whether Iraq would indeed democratize according to U.S. government plans. Goering said she was surprised how quickly Baghdad returned to semi-normalcy and the markets re-opened.

Quintanilla said the U.S. would have to adapt to norms of Iraqi culture. "One night I was sitting on top of a roof thinking about my experiences," Quintanilla described, "when all of a sudden gunfire broke out. I'm asking the troops, 'What is going on?' It turned out that the electricity had just been turned on and the locals were celebrating by shooting assault rifles and automatic weapons in the air. I thought -- it's going to be awhile before things become normal."

At a different juncture, Quintanilla's experience took a turn for the worst when his tank ran out of gas and Iraqis stole his money and passport. "It was a period for me to reflect on my own mortality," he laughed.

"There were moments when I felt literally terrified," Osnos admitted. "I tried to remember that I was there to write things down as quickly and as legibly as possible. In retrospect, many of my notes are completely illegible."