The Wild Olives [Saddam's Golden Nest egg]
The Wild Olives
[Saddam’s Golden Nest egg]
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The Wild Olives
[Saddam’s Demise]
Abundant you lay in the desert Sun
By shores where your ancient patriot died
Born with the down of Civilization—
To destroy you, one must be like
the wind
the locust
The Wild Olive grows freely outside
Of Baghdad, against the ancient skies
[Of the Middle East]
Baghdad she cries, Baghdad:
The Wild Olive,
The branch that never died
Returns, returns
Like the wind and the locus
Note: This story is done in two forms of narration, two stores per se; the Nest Egg, and the Saddam Letter, interconnected.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
In banks throughout the world, from Syria, Russia, Iran, the United States, several countries in Europe, and 31 other countries, along with transportable locations throughout Iraq, and within four major cities, one being Baghdad, Saddam has his treasures, his personal savings worth more than 40-billion dollars. Of that mouth of money, $4-billion is in gold. Yes, I mean solid gold. To be exact, $200-million in gold coin is somewhere in Baghdad. This was put in to all these location for a good reason, for a possible regime change, should it happen. He calculated almost everything. That is why he made so many contracts with so many countries. For example, Syria had a multi billion-dollar contract for natural resources with Iraq [which is not new, news by far]. Germany and France had multi-million dollar contracts and Russia hand a two-digit billion-dollar contract with Iraq. No wonder why they were yelling to the UN. Do you really think these countries cared about American lives in Iraq, or even Iraq lives in Iraq, not by a long shot? Matter of fact, the more American lives killed the better it looked for everyone but America. Even the American’s didn’t care if American’s got killed, one being Sean Penn, another Jane Fonda. Now we all know a war like we had in Iraq is not over oil, it is cheaper to buy it, than to spend 80-billion on the first 30-days of the war, and god knows what else we will have to spend. So it holds true, like every thing else in life, those who speak the loudest, are most likely the biggest hypocrites. But this book is not about, necessarily about anyways, who is right and who is wrong. It is about a Corporal in the US Marines, and about a female Iraqi, and about $200-millio [not billion] in gold coins. But I may get off course a few times into the Saddam Syndrome, as I call it.
If we were to figure out what this amounted to, it would go something like this. The coins [many of them I am told] are 1-ounce gold American Eagles, of which were being bought up for over 15-years. If a once were worth $300 [for the sake of argument], and that would then make a pound of gold worth $4800. Now [for the sake of adding] lets round it off to $5000 dollars per pound. And now remember we got a figure of $200-million hidden someplace in Baghdad, that would mean in, lets go back to he times table: 100 pounds of gold would = $500,000 dollars x 2- 1-million dollars= 200 pounds of Gold. Were getting there [the gold is .999 pure]. We need another level, but lets take it slow, 2000-pounds would equal, 10-million dollars, and $200-million than would= 40,000-pounds. Now this book is not about how you’re going to carry it out, rather about where it is, who first found out but it, and a few more details. Some details were left out. Let’s call this a treasure hunt.
The fall of Baghdad came about on 4/9/03 for most Iraqi’s, and on 4/11/03, a US Marine found a letter in a mosque in Baghdad, signed by Saddam telling [not drawing] the coordinates of this sum of gold. It was given to a female of whom we will talk about soon. She evidently during the raids, dropped it leaving one location for the mosque, and when she left, the Marine [I will get into more details soon found it The Marine had it translated; the translator was killed three days later and the letter was sold as a savior, to me for the price of his signature. For I am a signature collector; --investigating this further, the story you are about to hear is the one that came out from my probing, and the letter, the truth can be measured or balanced by you.
Being a well traveled person, for I have traveled around the world over 25-times, I know Baghdad somewhat well. Which helps me put this story together? On the other hand, I may not have all the facts. But I must write them down before I forget what I do know, or found out what I’ve been told.
Much of this will be coming out in the papers for years to come. The tunnels, the gold, the banks, and the treasures you never heard about, and these gold coins maybe come if they are found.
٭
In the other three locations throughout Iraq, the other three cities that is, where large sums of gold may still be, the amounts are not clear, nor the exact ware bouts. And to be quite honest, this I was told by some authorities, and has nothing to do with the letter, which is my main source for this treasure hunt, the one, signed by Saddam. Therefore I want to stick with the more solid proof of burden. And as we go along I will try to answer most of the questions.
As I mentioned, the official day for the finding of the note [letter lets say for the sake of argument], was 4/11/03. To my understanding it was mid morning, making it somewhere between 10:30 AM and Noon.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
[A Letter was found 4/9/03 – the day of the Iraqi liberation, on the 11th a journal purchased the letter.]
He wore green gloves cut at the mid part of the fingers, brown desert camouflage fatigues, US Marines Issue. Brown combat boots, a green a brown best, like the colors of his helmet, which had a strap, strapped tightly under his chin. He seemed to hug his M16-rifle, magazine loaded. Thick eyebrows, pants-legs rolled up a bit, brown camouflage jacket; gear strapped on his back; --clean-shaven, hair no longer than that on his arms. Hew as twenty-three years old. Five foot eleven inches built solid, thick boned, broad nose, thick lips, and squinty small eyes. When you looked at him, he was all and more a Marine should be.
For days on end the Air Force had been bombing Baghdad, now it was the 9th of
April 2003. The Palace, one of twenty, Saddam Hussein, had was bombed also, something no one expected. Just one hour before it was bombed, Saddam had called Shiya, who worked over at the Ministry of Finance, to meet him at a house. That Uday would pick her up, his son along with three Ba’th Party members, one being a Chairman for Al-Anbor [by the name of Rashid]. This would start a flood of events. She was picked up, brought to the house, received a letter from Saddam, and returned to her job location. It would prove soon after, the house would be blown up. She would leave the Ministry’s Office and go to the Palace, at which time it was targeted by the US Armed Forces, and blown. There she would drop the letter Saddam had given her. She then ran back to the Ministry and over to the Grand Mosque, on the other side of the Tigris. In the mist of all this, Sergeant Thomas [used as his first and last name] would discover the letter. Having found it he would have a man named Ahmed, translate it, thinking it was of some kind of orders, which in a way it was. It was a letter describing the ware bouts of $200,000,000 million in gold coinage.
Keeping the note in his pocket, on 4/11/03, two days later he met a Journalist by the name of [Frank Lee]. He interviewed the Sergeant simply because he was one of the first to be seen at the Palace. He was walking up the winding steps, and was asked to stop, and thereafter an interview came. But when Sergeant Thomas explained about the letter, Mr. Lee, negated a deal with the sergeant, to release it to him, for $5000. Saying it could be a prank, or even if it were something, most likely the collation would find it, thus being impossible for him to get the gold. Sergeant Thomas having need of the funds sold the signed letter to Frank.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
The gold is in an underground set of tunnels in a chamber of sorts, solid brick wall. There are two entrances, one through a house, and the other through the exit tunnel system both locations being downtown Baghdad.
Not far from the Zawa Park Zoo, closer to the festival and parade grounds is the ‘New Presidential Palace.’ The Tigris River is south of there, as is [was] ‘The Ministry of Transportation.’ To some one living here [in Baghdad, or had lived here] it would not be hard to find. I myself had been to Baghdad twice before, but only for a few days, crossing over from Israel, to Jordan, and on to Iraq, and down to Baghdad. In each case, it was a long ordeal, for a short political story, the coverage was not worth the endurance, being forty-five when I took my first trip eight years ago, my second about five years ago, and now being now fifty-three.
In any event, now stop where you are in the tunnel, you should be facing the Tigris, so says the letter, and there is no map, just worlds Saddam wrote. He meant for the person receiving it, to know exactly where it was. Her name I found out was Shiya, a beautiful 22-year old, Syrian woman who had come to Baghdad when she was 18-years old to fight and be whatever the party of Saddam what’d her to be. And for the most part she was his mistress, as well as, Uday’s and Qusay’s, both Saddam’s sons, along with Abid Hamid Mahmud Al, the Presidential Secretary. Although he was a jealous kind of fellow, he shared, but I don’t think he liked sharing. But let me go on with this road map of wards.
So Shiya was a willing slave.
Now the Tigris goes for about 19-miles in a snake like creature throughout the city of Baghdad – [I have been there, on the river, it is as twisty as a tree in a storm. I assumed at this point the house he was talking about is bombed to smithereens. So we got to go in the back way. Anyway the Sergeant [Marine] that found the note, I don’t want to mention his name, not quite yet anyway. Found a second interpreter for me, and he translated it as it was done before I arrived on the scene, or I could say, as he explained it to me: Mohsen was his name. The said thing is Mohsen was found dead several hours later; I had paid him $10-dollars for his services.
I did buy the letter, but again that is my business, no need to get into trivialities. And the signature was genuine, but I can have to eat the letter, for personal reasons. Keeping all the data in my head it was too dangerous now.
At this point I should be facing the Tigris [in the tunnels]; somewhere in-between a two-mile radius [point to point] on the right bank is a cave. You might say between Saddam Street – [Shahid Mosque], and Doura [oil refinery]; which of course is the other side of the bank, --in any case, that is the side were the opening is.
Now what a person would have to do [before I get back to the letter] is to cross the bank, find the cave and tunnel entrance. Now once you have done that, you would enter the tunnel and it leads back under the river to the other side of the bank, now you should be right back [or close by] where you started from possible by the Baghdad University.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
During this time the Allies were expanding Baghdad control, while other fighting was going on in the capture of Kirkuk. Looting was prevalent, not only in Baghdad, but all over the place country. The 7th Marine Regiment was ordered to try to stop the looting in Baghdad, at their discretion. At this time also Mosul was being attacked, surrender negotiation was going on. Sergeant Thomas was happy his wife had received the $5000-dollars, but was not so happy about possible not sharing that letter with his commanding officer. Yet he told himself it had nothing to do with him. The question that circled his mind was: either way, what good would it do. If I give him the letter, or not give him the letter; it is not a matter of life and death [or could it be?]. He was there to do a job, and this is what he was doing.
On the 13th of April, he got to talk to his wife, and she was ecstatic to hear his voice, and had asked him where he got the money. He simply said he won a lottery among the guys; no more was said. He told her to buy a steak, and make sure, Brynna, and her big brother Cody had new shoes. They were too young to go to school, but new shoes seemed like a nice thing to say, and buy.
There had been some pretty offal sand storms in the past few weeks surrounding Baghdad, and throughout the country. It was good the Kurdish military was helping the US Military in the North, and the British were as good as their counter part.
Sergeant Thomas didn’t know the woman who dropped the letter, but started looking for her by name, and trying to follow her last footsteps. He did remember her name after reading it, kept it tucked away in his mind, Shiya. Again he had to think about this decision should or should he not, trace this woman. Again, what harm could it do…?
ی
He had talked to several people and they seemed to know her, the reason being, she was the lover of all three males of the Saddam family, father, son and son. And she was considered to be very loyal. Yet still the good sergeant wanted to find her—and kept asking for additional information.
At this point, she was a name, but he was becoming obsessed with the name, like one would be with a collection of stamps, or coins, or books. She was young, mystic, and beautiful, about five foot three, with a slender, with dark black magic hair. When people talked about her, they all seemed to forget her lover Saddam and his sons, she was soft spoken, like the purr of a cat; yellow eyes like the cat, and breasts that stood out as if they were held by magic, firm as adolescents. The sergeant had not been home for nine months. Not seen a woman or even touched a woman other than his wife. Matter of fact, his wife was the first, the very first he took to bed. She was 17-years old when they met he was 18. It was during training in California. They dated, and she got pregnant, and they got married. For the most part, the marriage was good.
Now the sergeant had to ask himself just why he was searching so hard [?] That it self was a mystery, notwithstanding, if he found her what would he do, he didn’t know. Ask her what questions? He didn’t even have the letter anymore; much less, even a picture of her: but he knew he’d be able to identify her no matter what. Maybe it was the intrigue. He was there to take down Saddam, and she was part of Saddam. Maybe, just maybe, but how would you find out unless you tracked her down.
The Golden Egg-nest
The Journalist
The letter starts, “You will know you are you are going in the right direction when you pass the sign that says ‘Baghdad University’, to the right of you. It is above you…”
Evidently, there are many sings in the tunnel; one would need to check them out to insure he does not go in the wrong direction, for there are many turns.
Most people will not at first believe Saddam’s gold nest, but finding it would surely be a nice treasure hunt. As I was saying, you now will have read the sign “Baghdad University,” keep going forward, straight for the most part, that is what the letter indicates. Remember you are on the other side of the river bank now, but also remember the river winds like a snake, so I would say now you are on the right or west side of the river.
Now you are going to go low, and you will have to get on your hands and knees, the tunnel will go under the side section of the down town Tigris, and we are surely getting closer to our destination. In the letter he was [Saddam] talking about where the entrance was, in the city, the house that got bombed, which is no more. So this would be the other entrance. At this point you should be by that house, but forget using that entrance; the bombing surely blocked it off, unless you plan on digging thirty feet.
The different depths of the tunnel go between 20 to 100 feet deep, now you should be under Kind Street [so the litter indicates]. The woman who this was intended for in the hit in the air strikes, dropped it I suppose, trying to figure out where to go, again the Sergeant picked it up.
The mosque’s I have been to, again for clarity sake, been to the mosque to see if I could find the woman, but could not. For point reference or better put, a landmark.
The letter read: “continue now north,” and according to my understanding of the city I would have to go South west for a bit, and then North, if we continue this way we will be by the Sinak Bridge, thus, we have passed already the land mark he points out in the letter, “14th of July Street.” Again we go under for the last time, the Tigris River, to the right, or east is the Olympic Complex and the Martyrs Monument [or what is left of it all]. Now if you are in the tunnel, behind you about three miles is “Al Firdos Square.” I hope I got these names right; it is important, for I told myself, ‘you got to eat this letter, and it is a map in itself.’
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
Sergeant Thomas was one of the first soldiers [Marines] to go on patrol in Baghdad, in policing the area with Iraqi officials. Consequently, responding to the concerns of the White House on the looking, shooting and burning of his city. It was funny he thought, here the people want law and order, and now when they seen the US Military involved they were chanting negative omens to them, when just a matter of 36-hours ago they had been beaming with joy. And so he was learning the emotional roller coaster they were bringing him on. The other question that came out was, ‘…were these people predestined to be emotional passive-aggressive depending on the day, time and what could be gained.
In any event, right or wrong he had a duty, and so with his vehicle he stopped to have a conversation with Raad, the Iraqi police in the vehicle in front of him; for he was following slowly being insuring he had support should he need it. Raad could speak broken English.
Sergeant Thomas, as he had driven through different sections of town, Saddam’s name was everywhere, --actually, shredded as in paper, broken as in statues, or in the case of paintings, destroyed. As he rested against his armed vehicle, he got thinking about Kuwait, General Garner was coming in [or was possible there already] to take charge of the ‘post war’ remaking of the Iraqi government. He had remembered all the stories his father had talked about in Vietnam. About that movie star Jane Fonda and now they had a Sean Penn, who was not much different. Why, he asked himself do movie stars get in the political business. It was beyond him. He had liked seeming Penn’s movies but now his persona had changed that. He could not see him in a movie and separate him from his political view. His father had told him, Elvis always stayed away from pushing his personal view such as political or religious one down the throat of the public.
As the good sergeant moved through the Baghdad streets he remembered how this all unfolded with the Allies beginning the countdown toward, and President Bush, Prime Minister Blair and Spain’s Jose Maria Aznar met in the Azores, and how just on the 9th US Victory was in sight, with Saddam’s regime crumbling, and Baghdad towering bronze statue of Saddam Hussein decapitated, as the US Government said it was going to do. It was a good time to be in the Military Service he thought. He had heard so many rumors of the Vietnam conflict, where evidently they had lost direction, focus, resolve: something was missing, he put it this way said Sergeant Thomas,
Dad always said it lacked something, ”…all sciences, or for that matter, psychology a natural science, vs. numbers, everything in general to include ‘war’ –needs a logical system for understanding: --something that was missing in Vietnam.”
Jude Thomas Sir
It made more sense now to Sergeant Thomas riding around in his Hoover; a good plan, direction, focus, special forces, and a reason make a big difference, especially when you know the folks back home back you up.
It was strange, things were happening so fast he couldn’t keep up with everything. And he still hand the ‘Black Beauty Persian,’ girl on his mind, Shiya, maybe today they’d ride by the Grand Mosque and see if she was there, everyone ends up there it seems [or so he told himself].
٭
It was the 17th and news had come out that he was to keep a look out for Dr. Germ, a nickname they called Suda Salih Mahdi Ammash, the so called chemical engineer linked directly to the regimes biological weapons program. They had already captured or toppled the Baathist leadership, and with him and his Marine comrades patrolling the streets of Baghdad, it was just a matter of time, sooner or later the rest of the wanted would surface. Someone would pop up and provide the information; it was a lot about money. Anyways they captured that slime of a man Mohammed Abbas, his father had told him about the event in l985, when an American was on a ship this Italian cruise ship called the Achilles Laura [which to the Sergeant only help justify the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, for the harboring of terrorist by Iraq’s, and now Syria doing the same thing.] in the Medaterean, and the Palestine organization terror group [master minded by this Abu Abbas guy] captured the ship, shot the old man, and threw him into the sea. Now the Palestine’s wanted him to be unaccountable for his actions, but our sins catch up with us, the Sergeants father would always tell him. Italy, the owner of the ship, wanted him extradited, ‘I hope they give him to them,’ he whispered in a low tone, and his vehicle turned a corner, watching the white care of Haad’s ahead of him.
The Sergeant new the world to the American would never be the same after 9/1, terrorism being on its doorsteps, and the Middle East being its main supplier.
His father had told him more than once, being in the Military for eleven years, “American’s feel nothing can harm them, we all life in a bubble over here, yet if you travel you will see the reality of how penetrably that bubble is; Europe knows the facts of life, that they can be hurt, as well as Asia, which feels the war cry often, and now the Middle East, being torn apart: --and now the USA. It was just a matter of time.”
Thomas was hoping he’d not go home, or leave Baghdad before he found that woman [he even started to question his obsession, why it was occurring over this person. Like alcohol, gambling, drugs, and now this.] The war headquarters in Qatar, were giving signals for the military to start perusing marked individuals whom might try to ignite the old regime.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
As the Journalist was about to go on with his story and explain more of he map, he got weak, and had to rest…he was coughing, his lungs seemed filled with something, he was taking short breaths, as if this something was reaching the tops of the lungs and not allowing any more air into them. Thoughts upon thoughts went through his mind. If only he had not met the Sergeant. If only he had not tried to find the gold. If only, there were so many of these ‘if only’s’, but the fact was, he was dying. The General wanted to know more. He had to tell him.
His hand’s started to tremble; the other officers looked at him.
“Something wrong,” said the General.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
Sergeant Thomas kept asking questions about Sniya, and a man by the name of Toma, knew her well, so well he even knew what district of Baghdad she lived in; which was in the Karada district by the Tigris River. And so now he could close in on the area and possible it would not be such a search, or so he was hoping.
A few of the Sergeant’s friends who were indirectly involved with the saving of Jessica Lynch, were also indirectly involved with the intelligence for capturing Abul Abbas, the man who allowed Leon Kilinghoffen to be killed some 18-years past. Abul had killed children, cripples and anything that couldn’t fight back, thought Thomas, yet the man were but one year younger than his dad [born l948].
This war was a hornet’s nest, thought Thomas, it had cost some $20 billion thus far, or so he heard and read this morning, according to the Defense Department ‘s briefing [as told to the reporters]. Like wise, being a soldier you always seemed to be out the other side of the piece of paper, the one that said, “…125,000 troops [of which he was one]…spending up to $1.2 billion monthly…” Everything ended up being numbers at the end.
It was morning in Baghdad, and there was now some 2000 police men patrolling the streets of Baghdad, of the 30,000 that used to be, along with of course, U.S. Troops. Haad, said as they started their duties, walking to his car, along side Thomas,
“Citizens are not likening us police men, it is a little scary?” The sergeant asked if they had tortured or even assonated the citizens, and the response was ‘no’, than the good sergeant simply said,
“It will pass; it all seems to from day to day.” Haad, gave a half smile, knowing if he didn’t appease the American’s his job and possible jail time was his alternative, or even facing the citizens, if they had a bad day. So he quickly got into his white vehicle, and drove forward.
What was on his mind today was possible riding through the district of Karada and seeking out the “Black haired Beauty” he had come possessed by, or was becoming possessed by. And so, over his radio, he talked to Haad to head south to Karada. Haad, explained she could possible live on Jami’ah or even Saadun Street, both long with many intersections. That sounded like a good bet to the Sergeant, for there was a mosque, called Shahid close by there, and she possible could be there; --that was not far form the Al Firdos Square either.
Within twenty-minutes they were there [at the mosque].
ی
Sergeant Thomas walked into the mosque, there were a number of women on the side of the mosque, others with there shoes off, on their knees, a few faces looked at the Marine standing in the mosque, than all of a sudden a woman started walking toward the door, in a quick pace, the sergeant grabbed her,
“Sniya,” he said, she pulled the veil off her face,
“Outside please and the sergeant followed.
“And Sergeant [she spoke good English], what can I do for you, I’ve done nothing wrong?”
“I retrieved your letter from Saddam, the one you lost.” She looked puzzled, it was but a few days ago, but it seemed like forever.
“Oh yes, yes, that one. And so if you read it, go find the gold.” The Sergeant was a bit taken by all this. “Is that what you wanted,” she asked dumbfounded.
“I mean, what it is, if you have it you do not need me.” The sergeant stared at her beauty; it was like a black diamond, bronze skin, penetrating black hair, teeth white as ivory, and a slender shape. She then noticed him scanning her body and beauty.
“I see sergeant, you want me?” The sergeant didn’t say a ward.
“I didn’t say that Ms,” the sergeant replied.
“No you didn’t, but you did, do you?”
“The truth is, I, I was curious.”
“Sergeant, are you still curious?”
“YES,” he replied with a high tone.
She then took him by the hand and they started walking, down Saadun Street.
“You know Sergeant, the Tigers has a lot of history, are you not the olive branch, the wild one, in your bible it tackles about it, you know the gentiles and the Jews. And you’re the wild branch; you’re almost like the Jews…” Whatever she was talking about she paid little heed to it, an olive branch, and wild, whatever.
“Sniya, I don’t care about Jews and Arabs, but you, you are a mystery, and I found the mystery, and I like you.”
“My young sergeant it would do you will to do some research in your New Testament. I have studied the Koran, the Old and New Testament, along with the Talmud. Know your enemy.”
“But we are not your enemy…” replied the sergeant, still stunned by her beauty.
“Yes, oh yes, I know that, it is good you came to stop all this, it is very good.” As the sergeant looked at her, she seemed to be in a trance when she aid that. Possible still in shot the young sergeant thought.
“Over there,” she pointed at a building, on the ninth floor, apart #912 that’s my room number. If you wish, come tonight. If you can bring some food, I’m very hungry, and water, we have no water. I have only candles for light, but I already know what you want, so we will not need those.”
The sergeant was a bit in disbelief, everything went so fast. He had to question himself, is this what he was after, saying several times as he stopped walking, and just watched her, as Haad, waited in his white car, he told himself, ‘I’m a married man, what am I doing.’ But human nature took the reigns and made his loins feel the desire of her woman-ness.
“Let’s go find a restaurant that’s open Haad, I’ll buy you lunch,” said the Sergeant, like a kid that just got a bag of popcorn at a movie theater.
“That sounds good Sergeant Thomas, and I know just the one, but what, if I may ask, was that all about?”
“Oh nothing, just a letter I found signed by Saddam, and I questioned her about it…” Haad knew there was more to it than that, but was fearful to remain on the subject, saying, “Please be careful, some of these people, male and female are die hard party members of Saddam; and she looks like one.” The sergeant looked at Haad,
“Let’s just have lunch, ok.”
“As you wish Sarg…”
They stopped in front of the kitchen-restaurant known as “al Guta”. When they got in there, of the 40+ tables, there was only two filled. And so they made three. They ordered coffee, and the water said to Haad, who translated in English to the Sergeant:
“We have Rice with Green bean, no meat, and bread, that is it, and of course coffee.”
“It would do,” said Haad, and the Sergeant said he’d pay in dollars.
As they ate the sergeants mind drifted through the morning, it was filled with Sniya, and the market place they drove by, it was a funny scene to only see one vegetable vender in the market, who hand oranges, tomatoes, apples, beans, and everything looked soft and rotting. And finding Sniya, what a lucky chance, or was it luck. Was Haad’s concern real, or simply he didn’t like Americans fooling around with their women. In any case he had made up his mind.
“I see Haad,” said the Sergeant, “There was a meeting a few days ago, where 75-Irdaqi’s got to gather by the ancient Ziggurat by Ur. I heard of that city, it was once ruled by the Great Gilgamesh, and his [he stopped to think of what Haad said], as I was about to say something about the story of Gilgamesh and Shamhat, servant of the goddess [Shamhat’s other name being Harim] the mistress who persuaded Enkidu through sex to go to Uruk to be the friend and lover of Gilgamesh, the King of Sumer. Could Sniya be like her, yet more deadly? Enkidu was a wild man in the Cedar Forest, and equal in strength to Gilgamesh. In all events, he was viewing a comparison in a daydream mode.
As they both [the Sergeant and Haad] left the restaurant, and finished out the day, before Haad had left the sergeant he told him once more to be careful.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
[Baghdad, June 9th 2003] Said the One Star General,
“That’s quite a story Mr. Lee no need to finish it, just write out the location, and when you get your breath back, summarize it if you can; --now that you’ve told us all this much, we can find the gold on our own.”
The general thought for a moment, looking at his officers, than said:
“But why in heavens name have you come forward and said all this when possible you can write a book, or even bargain with whomever for a piece of the gold?”
Frank Lee noticed the General just staring at him, waiting for an answer. But Frank Lee, didn’t have any more notes, sketches, and he had told most of his story, a good story at that he thought, he just didn’t tell him the ending, and he had to, it was his duty, his job, his honor. And he followed the road less traveled.
“General,” he said, “I himself went to see if the treasure did exist, and it did. But I had not told anyone, just you and these officers here know.” He hesitated, he would tell him in a moment, he had to catch his breath again.
“Well, sir,” said the General, “Can you tell us more, or not?” Again staring at Frank, as Frank looked to the floor, emotions going in and out of him like wild fire.
“I have already seen the gold General,” he said in a tone of voice that left something out, but the several officers standing around him, all remained silent.
Said the General, “And so…I mean, now this is real confusing, you best lay the rest the table, we need to know what is going on…” the general’s face turned to confusion, and dismay.
“Well, President Bush was right, there are Weapons of Mass Destruction, and they are all over in this area where the gold is, in particular. It is a hornet’s nest down in that pit, in the tunnel; it is not only hot as hell, it is seeping with gases; the closer you get to the treasure. When I did get to the gold, which was in a room built into a ceiling, and when I opened up the door hatch, a body came falling on top of me, and gold, a lot of gold, but it was covered with some kind of substance. An open can of viruses, Saddam’s last outrage for revenge, that’s what it was. I am sick Sir; even though I have washed myself for two days straight, I am sicker each day. You may not know it just by watching me, my lungs and body are contaminated. I ran and ran, and ran when I had that substance fall all over me. I didn’t even climb into the Egg-nest of golden coins; maybe a thousand fell on top of me, as it was planned. You see, if Saddam couldn’t have the gold, or the girl, no one could. He expected her to find it. But as you can see, I did. My greed got to me.
The General looked Frank Lee up and down. He had gloves on, and most of his body was covered. He knows put two and two, together. Than stepped back from him.
“Am I going to be infected? I hope not. I don’t know if it is contagious or not. I think the virus is could be small-pocks, or god knows what else. But whatever you do, do not bomb that area or does any kind of ground work, it is most dangerous. Several containers are open, and it is seeping throughout the tunnel. I found the gold several days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
Having said that, the General and the officers quickly ran out of the room; within a minute of them ordering the building contaminated, the General heard a gun shot, Mr. Lee had shot himself.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
Sergeant Thomas found Shiya and dated her until [one full week and a day] April 26, 2003. She could speak very good English, and was very much interested in what happened to the letter [although she didn’t let on to the Sergeant], he told her, and for the most part, put it to rest; or so Sergeant Thomas thought. For that week they made love each and everyday. She knew not where the gold was, and the sergeant couldn’t remember all the details, not even under torture.
On the evening of the 26th she had made a date with the Sergeant, and they met once more, the following evening which would be the last time, at which time both naked in bed the lovers were interrupted by the Iraqi’s know as simply Saddam loyalists; she was told to leave, and they took him and asked where the gold was; he could not tell them, consequently, they did not believe them, and by way of battery-shock, electric currents, he was killed; sold old by his lover, and Saddam’s devoted whore. Something the good sergeant never expected. That was the last time he was ever heard of. It was reported a member of the Ba’th Party was seen leaving her apartment early in the morning, at which time, a trash truck picked up some garbage.
[Saddam’s Golden Nest egg]
0
The Wild Olives
[Saddam’s Demise]
Abundant you lay in the desert Sun
By shores where your ancient patriot died
Born with the down of Civilization—
To destroy you, one must be like
the wind
the locust
The Wild Olive grows freely outside
Of Baghdad, against the ancient skies
[Of the Middle East]
Baghdad she cries, Baghdad:
The Wild Olive,
The branch that never died
Returns, returns
Like the wind and the locus
Note: This story is done in two forms of narration, two stores per se; the Nest Egg, and the Saddam Letter, interconnected.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
In banks throughout the world, from Syria, Russia, Iran, the United States, several countries in Europe, and 31 other countries, along with transportable locations throughout Iraq, and within four major cities, one being Baghdad, Saddam has his treasures, his personal savings worth more than 40-billion dollars. Of that mouth of money, $4-billion is in gold. Yes, I mean solid gold. To be exact, $200-million in gold coin is somewhere in Baghdad. This was put in to all these location for a good reason, for a possible regime change, should it happen. He calculated almost everything. That is why he made so many contracts with so many countries. For example, Syria had a multi billion-dollar contract for natural resources with Iraq [which is not new, news by far]. Germany and France had multi-million dollar contracts and Russia hand a two-digit billion-dollar contract with Iraq. No wonder why they were yelling to the UN. Do you really think these countries cared about American lives in Iraq, or even Iraq lives in Iraq, not by a long shot? Matter of fact, the more American lives killed the better it looked for everyone but America. Even the American’s didn’t care if American’s got killed, one being Sean Penn, another Jane Fonda. Now we all know a war like we had in Iraq is not over oil, it is cheaper to buy it, than to spend 80-billion on the first 30-days of the war, and god knows what else we will have to spend. So it holds true, like every thing else in life, those who speak the loudest, are most likely the biggest hypocrites. But this book is not about, necessarily about anyways, who is right and who is wrong. It is about a Corporal in the US Marines, and about a female Iraqi, and about $200-millio [not billion] in gold coins. But I may get off course a few times into the Saddam Syndrome, as I call it.
If we were to figure out what this amounted to, it would go something like this. The coins [many of them I am told] are 1-ounce gold American Eagles, of which were being bought up for over 15-years. If a once were worth $300 [for the sake of argument], and that would then make a pound of gold worth $4800. Now [for the sake of adding] lets round it off to $5000 dollars per pound. And now remember we got a figure of $200-million hidden someplace in Baghdad, that would mean in, lets go back to he times table: 100 pounds of gold would = $500,000 dollars x 2- 1-million dollars= 200 pounds of Gold. Were getting there [the gold is .999 pure]. We need another level, but lets take it slow, 2000-pounds would equal, 10-million dollars, and $200-million than would= 40,000-pounds. Now this book is not about how you’re going to carry it out, rather about where it is, who first found out but it, and a few more details. Some details were left out. Let’s call this a treasure hunt.
The fall of Baghdad came about on 4/9/03 for most Iraqi’s, and on 4/11/03, a US Marine found a letter in a mosque in Baghdad, signed by Saddam telling [not drawing] the coordinates of this sum of gold. It was given to a female of whom we will talk about soon. She evidently during the raids, dropped it leaving one location for the mosque, and when she left, the Marine [I will get into more details soon found it The Marine had it translated; the translator was killed three days later and the letter was sold as a savior, to me for the price of his signature. For I am a signature collector; --investigating this further, the story you are about to hear is the one that came out from my probing, and the letter, the truth can be measured or balanced by you.
Being a well traveled person, for I have traveled around the world over 25-times, I know Baghdad somewhat well. Which helps me put this story together? On the other hand, I may not have all the facts. But I must write them down before I forget what I do know, or found out what I’ve been told.
Much of this will be coming out in the papers for years to come. The tunnels, the gold, the banks, and the treasures you never heard about, and these gold coins maybe come if they are found.
٭
In the other three locations throughout Iraq, the other three cities that is, where large sums of gold may still be, the amounts are not clear, nor the exact ware bouts. And to be quite honest, this I was told by some authorities, and has nothing to do with the letter, which is my main source for this treasure hunt, the one, signed by Saddam. Therefore I want to stick with the more solid proof of burden. And as we go along I will try to answer most of the questions.
As I mentioned, the official day for the finding of the note [letter lets say for the sake of argument], was 4/11/03. To my understanding it was mid morning, making it somewhere between 10:30 AM and Noon.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
[A Letter was found 4/9/03 – the day of the Iraqi liberation, on the 11th a journal purchased the letter.]
He wore green gloves cut at the mid part of the fingers, brown desert camouflage fatigues, US Marines Issue. Brown combat boots, a green a brown best, like the colors of his helmet, which had a strap, strapped tightly under his chin. He seemed to hug his M16-rifle, magazine loaded. Thick eyebrows, pants-legs rolled up a bit, brown camouflage jacket; gear strapped on his back; --clean-shaven, hair no longer than that on his arms. Hew as twenty-three years old. Five foot eleven inches built solid, thick boned, broad nose, thick lips, and squinty small eyes. When you looked at him, he was all and more a Marine should be.
For days on end the Air Force had been bombing Baghdad, now it was the 9th of
April 2003. The Palace, one of twenty, Saddam Hussein, had was bombed also, something no one expected. Just one hour before it was bombed, Saddam had called Shiya, who worked over at the Ministry of Finance, to meet him at a house. That Uday would pick her up, his son along with three Ba’th Party members, one being a Chairman for Al-Anbor [by the name of Rashid]. This would start a flood of events. She was picked up, brought to the house, received a letter from Saddam, and returned to her job location. It would prove soon after, the house would be blown up. She would leave the Ministry’s Office and go to the Palace, at which time it was targeted by the US Armed Forces, and blown. There she would drop the letter Saddam had given her. She then ran back to the Ministry and over to the Grand Mosque, on the other side of the Tigris. In the mist of all this, Sergeant Thomas [used as his first and last name] would discover the letter. Having found it he would have a man named Ahmed, translate it, thinking it was of some kind of orders, which in a way it was. It was a letter describing the ware bouts of $200,000,000 million in gold coinage.
Keeping the note in his pocket, on 4/11/03, two days later he met a Journalist by the name of [Frank Lee]. He interviewed the Sergeant simply because he was one of the first to be seen at the Palace. He was walking up the winding steps, and was asked to stop, and thereafter an interview came. But when Sergeant Thomas explained about the letter, Mr. Lee, negated a deal with the sergeant, to release it to him, for $5000. Saying it could be a prank, or even if it were something, most likely the collation would find it, thus being impossible for him to get the gold. Sergeant Thomas having need of the funds sold the signed letter to Frank.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
The gold is in an underground set of tunnels in a chamber of sorts, solid brick wall. There are two entrances, one through a house, and the other through the exit tunnel system both locations being downtown Baghdad.
Not far from the Zawa Park Zoo, closer to the festival and parade grounds is the ‘New Presidential Palace.’ The Tigris River is south of there, as is [was] ‘The Ministry of Transportation.’ To some one living here [in Baghdad, or had lived here] it would not be hard to find. I myself had been to Baghdad twice before, but only for a few days, crossing over from Israel, to Jordan, and on to Iraq, and down to Baghdad. In each case, it was a long ordeal, for a short political story, the coverage was not worth the endurance, being forty-five when I took my first trip eight years ago, my second about five years ago, and now being now fifty-three.
In any event, now stop where you are in the tunnel, you should be facing the Tigris, so says the letter, and there is no map, just worlds Saddam wrote. He meant for the person receiving it, to know exactly where it was. Her name I found out was Shiya, a beautiful 22-year old, Syrian woman who had come to Baghdad when she was 18-years old to fight and be whatever the party of Saddam what’d her to be. And for the most part she was his mistress, as well as, Uday’s and Qusay’s, both Saddam’s sons, along with Abid Hamid Mahmud Al, the Presidential Secretary. Although he was a jealous kind of fellow, he shared, but I don’t think he liked sharing. But let me go on with this road map of wards.
So Shiya was a willing slave.
Now the Tigris goes for about 19-miles in a snake like creature throughout the city of Baghdad – [I have been there, on the river, it is as twisty as a tree in a storm. I assumed at this point the house he was talking about is bombed to smithereens. So we got to go in the back way. Anyway the Sergeant [Marine] that found the note, I don’t want to mention his name, not quite yet anyway. Found a second interpreter for me, and he translated it as it was done before I arrived on the scene, or I could say, as he explained it to me: Mohsen was his name. The said thing is Mohsen was found dead several hours later; I had paid him $10-dollars for his services.
I did buy the letter, but again that is my business, no need to get into trivialities. And the signature was genuine, but I can have to eat the letter, for personal reasons. Keeping all the data in my head it was too dangerous now.
At this point I should be facing the Tigris [in the tunnels]; somewhere in-between a two-mile radius [point to point] on the right bank is a cave. You might say between Saddam Street – [Shahid Mosque], and Doura [oil refinery]; which of course is the other side of the bank, --in any case, that is the side were the opening is.
Now what a person would have to do [before I get back to the letter] is to cross the bank, find the cave and tunnel entrance. Now once you have done that, you would enter the tunnel and it leads back under the river to the other side of the bank, now you should be right back [or close by] where you started from possible by the Baghdad University.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
During this time the Allies were expanding Baghdad control, while other fighting was going on in the capture of Kirkuk. Looting was prevalent, not only in Baghdad, but all over the place country. The 7th Marine Regiment was ordered to try to stop the looting in Baghdad, at their discretion. At this time also Mosul was being attacked, surrender negotiation was going on. Sergeant Thomas was happy his wife had received the $5000-dollars, but was not so happy about possible not sharing that letter with his commanding officer. Yet he told himself it had nothing to do with him. The question that circled his mind was: either way, what good would it do. If I give him the letter, or not give him the letter; it is not a matter of life and death [or could it be?]. He was there to do a job, and this is what he was doing.
On the 13th of April, he got to talk to his wife, and she was ecstatic to hear his voice, and had asked him where he got the money. He simply said he won a lottery among the guys; no more was said. He told her to buy a steak, and make sure, Brynna, and her big brother Cody had new shoes. They were too young to go to school, but new shoes seemed like a nice thing to say, and buy.
There had been some pretty offal sand storms in the past few weeks surrounding Baghdad, and throughout the country. It was good the Kurdish military was helping the US Military in the North, and the British were as good as their counter part.
Sergeant Thomas didn’t know the woman who dropped the letter, but started looking for her by name, and trying to follow her last footsteps. He did remember her name after reading it, kept it tucked away in his mind, Shiya. Again he had to think about this decision should or should he not, trace this woman. Again, what harm could it do…?
ی
He had talked to several people and they seemed to know her, the reason being, she was the lover of all three males of the Saddam family, father, son and son. And she was considered to be very loyal. Yet still the good sergeant wanted to find her—and kept asking for additional information.
At this point, she was a name, but he was becoming obsessed with the name, like one would be with a collection of stamps, or coins, or books. She was young, mystic, and beautiful, about five foot three, with a slender, with dark black magic hair. When people talked about her, they all seemed to forget her lover Saddam and his sons, she was soft spoken, like the purr of a cat; yellow eyes like the cat, and breasts that stood out as if they were held by magic, firm as adolescents. The sergeant had not been home for nine months. Not seen a woman or even touched a woman other than his wife. Matter of fact, his wife was the first, the very first he took to bed. She was 17-years old when they met he was 18. It was during training in California. They dated, and she got pregnant, and they got married. For the most part, the marriage was good.
Now the sergeant had to ask himself just why he was searching so hard [?] That it self was a mystery, notwithstanding, if he found her what would he do, he didn’t know. Ask her what questions? He didn’t even have the letter anymore; much less, even a picture of her: but he knew he’d be able to identify her no matter what. Maybe it was the intrigue. He was there to take down Saddam, and she was part of Saddam. Maybe, just maybe, but how would you find out unless you tracked her down.
The Golden Egg-nest
The Journalist
The letter starts, “You will know you are you are going in the right direction when you pass the sign that says ‘Baghdad University’, to the right of you. It is above you…”
Evidently, there are many sings in the tunnel; one would need to check them out to insure he does not go in the wrong direction, for there are many turns.
Most people will not at first believe Saddam’s gold nest, but finding it would surely be a nice treasure hunt. As I was saying, you now will have read the sign “Baghdad University,” keep going forward, straight for the most part, that is what the letter indicates. Remember you are on the other side of the river bank now, but also remember the river winds like a snake, so I would say now you are on the right or west side of the river.
Now you are going to go low, and you will have to get on your hands and knees, the tunnel will go under the side section of the down town Tigris, and we are surely getting closer to our destination. In the letter he was [Saddam] talking about where the entrance was, in the city, the house that got bombed, which is no more. So this would be the other entrance. At this point you should be by that house, but forget using that entrance; the bombing surely blocked it off, unless you plan on digging thirty feet.
The different depths of the tunnel go between 20 to 100 feet deep, now you should be under Kind Street [so the litter indicates]. The woman who this was intended for in the hit in the air strikes, dropped it I suppose, trying to figure out where to go, again the Sergeant picked it up.
The mosque’s I have been to, again for clarity sake, been to the mosque to see if I could find the woman, but could not. For point reference or better put, a landmark.
The letter read: “continue now north,” and according to my understanding of the city I would have to go South west for a bit, and then North, if we continue this way we will be by the Sinak Bridge, thus, we have passed already the land mark he points out in the letter, “14th of July Street.” Again we go under for the last time, the Tigris River, to the right, or east is the Olympic Complex and the Martyrs Monument [or what is left of it all]. Now if you are in the tunnel, behind you about three miles is “Al Firdos Square.” I hope I got these names right; it is important, for I told myself, ‘you got to eat this letter, and it is a map in itself.’
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
Sergeant Thomas was one of the first soldiers [Marines] to go on patrol in Baghdad, in policing the area with Iraqi officials. Consequently, responding to the concerns of the White House on the looking, shooting and burning of his city. It was funny he thought, here the people want law and order, and now when they seen the US Military involved they were chanting negative omens to them, when just a matter of 36-hours ago they had been beaming with joy. And so he was learning the emotional roller coaster they were bringing him on. The other question that came out was, ‘…were these people predestined to be emotional passive-aggressive depending on the day, time and what could be gained.
In any event, right or wrong he had a duty, and so with his vehicle he stopped to have a conversation with Raad, the Iraqi police in the vehicle in front of him; for he was following slowly being insuring he had support should he need it. Raad could speak broken English.
Sergeant Thomas, as he had driven through different sections of town, Saddam’s name was everywhere, --actually, shredded as in paper, broken as in statues, or in the case of paintings, destroyed. As he rested against his armed vehicle, he got thinking about Kuwait, General Garner was coming in [or was possible there already] to take charge of the ‘post war’ remaking of the Iraqi government. He had remembered all the stories his father had talked about in Vietnam. About that movie star Jane Fonda and now they had a Sean Penn, who was not much different. Why, he asked himself do movie stars get in the political business. It was beyond him. He had liked seeming Penn’s movies but now his persona had changed that. He could not see him in a movie and separate him from his political view. His father had told him, Elvis always stayed away from pushing his personal view such as political or religious one down the throat of the public.
As the good sergeant moved through the Baghdad streets he remembered how this all unfolded with the Allies beginning the countdown toward, and President Bush, Prime Minister Blair and Spain’s Jose Maria Aznar met in the Azores, and how just on the 9th US Victory was in sight, with Saddam’s regime crumbling, and Baghdad towering bronze statue of Saddam Hussein decapitated, as the US Government said it was going to do. It was a good time to be in the Military Service he thought. He had heard so many rumors of the Vietnam conflict, where evidently they had lost direction, focus, resolve: something was missing, he put it this way said Sergeant Thomas,
Dad always said it lacked something, ”…all sciences, or for that matter, psychology a natural science, vs. numbers, everything in general to include ‘war’ –needs a logical system for understanding: --something that was missing in Vietnam.”
Jude Thomas Sir
It made more sense now to Sergeant Thomas riding around in his Hoover; a good plan, direction, focus, special forces, and a reason make a big difference, especially when you know the folks back home back you up.
It was strange, things were happening so fast he couldn’t keep up with everything. And he still hand the ‘Black Beauty Persian,’ girl on his mind, Shiya, maybe today they’d ride by the Grand Mosque and see if she was there, everyone ends up there it seems [or so he told himself].
٭
It was the 17th and news had come out that he was to keep a look out for Dr. Germ, a nickname they called Suda Salih Mahdi Ammash, the so called chemical engineer linked directly to the regimes biological weapons program. They had already captured or toppled the Baathist leadership, and with him and his Marine comrades patrolling the streets of Baghdad, it was just a matter of time, sooner or later the rest of the wanted would surface. Someone would pop up and provide the information; it was a lot about money. Anyways they captured that slime of a man Mohammed Abbas, his father had told him about the event in l985, when an American was on a ship this Italian cruise ship called the Achilles Laura [which to the Sergeant only help justify the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, for the harboring of terrorist by Iraq’s, and now Syria doing the same thing.] in the Medaterean, and the Palestine organization terror group [master minded by this Abu Abbas guy] captured the ship, shot the old man, and threw him into the sea. Now the Palestine’s wanted him to be unaccountable for his actions, but our sins catch up with us, the Sergeants father would always tell him. Italy, the owner of the ship, wanted him extradited, ‘I hope they give him to them,’ he whispered in a low tone, and his vehicle turned a corner, watching the white care of Haad’s ahead of him.
The Sergeant new the world to the American would never be the same after 9/1, terrorism being on its doorsteps, and the Middle East being its main supplier.
His father had told him more than once, being in the Military for eleven years, “American’s feel nothing can harm them, we all life in a bubble over here, yet if you travel you will see the reality of how penetrably that bubble is; Europe knows the facts of life, that they can be hurt, as well as Asia, which feels the war cry often, and now the Middle East, being torn apart: --and now the USA. It was just a matter of time.”
Thomas was hoping he’d not go home, or leave Baghdad before he found that woman [he even started to question his obsession, why it was occurring over this person. Like alcohol, gambling, drugs, and now this.] The war headquarters in Qatar, were giving signals for the military to start perusing marked individuals whom might try to ignite the old regime.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
As the Journalist was about to go on with his story and explain more of he map, he got weak, and had to rest…he was coughing, his lungs seemed filled with something, he was taking short breaths, as if this something was reaching the tops of the lungs and not allowing any more air into them. Thoughts upon thoughts went through his mind. If only he had not met the Sergeant. If only he had not tried to find the gold. If only, there were so many of these ‘if only’s’, but the fact was, he was dying. The General wanted to know more. He had to tell him.
His hand’s started to tremble; the other officers looked at him.
“Something wrong,” said the General.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
Sergeant Thomas kept asking questions about Sniya, and a man by the name of Toma, knew her well, so well he even knew what district of Baghdad she lived in; which was in the Karada district by the Tigris River. And so now he could close in on the area and possible it would not be such a search, or so he was hoping.
A few of the Sergeant’s friends who were indirectly involved with the saving of Jessica Lynch, were also indirectly involved with the intelligence for capturing Abul Abbas, the man who allowed Leon Kilinghoffen to be killed some 18-years past. Abul had killed children, cripples and anything that couldn’t fight back, thought Thomas, yet the man were but one year younger than his dad [born l948].
This war was a hornet’s nest, thought Thomas, it had cost some $20 billion thus far, or so he heard and read this morning, according to the Defense Department ‘s briefing [as told to the reporters]. Like wise, being a soldier you always seemed to be out the other side of the piece of paper, the one that said, “…125,000 troops [of which he was one]…spending up to $1.2 billion monthly…” Everything ended up being numbers at the end.
It was morning in Baghdad, and there was now some 2000 police men patrolling the streets of Baghdad, of the 30,000 that used to be, along with of course, U.S. Troops. Haad, said as they started their duties, walking to his car, along side Thomas,
“Citizens are not likening us police men, it is a little scary?” The sergeant asked if they had tortured or even assonated the citizens, and the response was ‘no’, than the good sergeant simply said,
“It will pass; it all seems to from day to day.” Haad, gave a half smile, knowing if he didn’t appease the American’s his job and possible jail time was his alternative, or even facing the citizens, if they had a bad day. So he quickly got into his white vehicle, and drove forward.
What was on his mind today was possible riding through the district of Karada and seeking out the “Black haired Beauty” he had come possessed by, or was becoming possessed by. And so, over his radio, he talked to Haad to head south to Karada. Haad, explained she could possible live on Jami’ah or even Saadun Street, both long with many intersections. That sounded like a good bet to the Sergeant, for there was a mosque, called Shahid close by there, and she possible could be there; --that was not far form the Al Firdos Square either.
Within twenty-minutes they were there [at the mosque].
ی
Sergeant Thomas walked into the mosque, there were a number of women on the side of the mosque, others with there shoes off, on their knees, a few faces looked at the Marine standing in the mosque, than all of a sudden a woman started walking toward the door, in a quick pace, the sergeant grabbed her,
“Sniya,” he said, she pulled the veil off her face,
“Outside please and the sergeant followed.
“And Sergeant [she spoke good English], what can I do for you, I’ve done nothing wrong?”
“I retrieved your letter from Saddam, the one you lost.” She looked puzzled, it was but a few days ago, but it seemed like forever.
“Oh yes, yes, that one. And so if you read it, go find the gold.” The Sergeant was a bit taken by all this. “Is that what you wanted,” she asked dumbfounded.
“I mean, what it is, if you have it you do not need me.” The sergeant stared at her beauty; it was like a black diamond, bronze skin, penetrating black hair, teeth white as ivory, and a slender shape. She then noticed him scanning her body and beauty.
“I see sergeant, you want me?” The sergeant didn’t say a ward.
“I didn’t say that Ms,” the sergeant replied.
“No you didn’t, but you did, do you?”
“The truth is, I, I was curious.”
“Sergeant, are you still curious?”
“YES,” he replied with a high tone.
She then took him by the hand and they started walking, down Saadun Street.
“You know Sergeant, the Tigers has a lot of history, are you not the olive branch, the wild one, in your bible it tackles about it, you know the gentiles and the Jews. And you’re the wild branch; you’re almost like the Jews…” Whatever she was talking about she paid little heed to it, an olive branch, and wild, whatever.
“Sniya, I don’t care about Jews and Arabs, but you, you are a mystery, and I found the mystery, and I like you.”
“My young sergeant it would do you will to do some research in your New Testament. I have studied the Koran, the Old and New Testament, along with the Talmud. Know your enemy.”
“But we are not your enemy…” replied the sergeant, still stunned by her beauty.
“Yes, oh yes, I know that, it is good you came to stop all this, it is very good.” As the sergeant looked at her, she seemed to be in a trance when she aid that. Possible still in shot the young sergeant thought.
“Over there,” she pointed at a building, on the ninth floor, apart #912 that’s my room number. If you wish, come tonight. If you can bring some food, I’m very hungry, and water, we have no water. I have only candles for light, but I already know what you want, so we will not need those.”
The sergeant was a bit in disbelief, everything went so fast. He had to question himself, is this what he was after, saying several times as he stopped walking, and just watched her, as Haad, waited in his white car, he told himself, ‘I’m a married man, what am I doing.’ But human nature took the reigns and made his loins feel the desire of her woman-ness.
“Let’s go find a restaurant that’s open Haad, I’ll buy you lunch,” said the Sergeant, like a kid that just got a bag of popcorn at a movie theater.
“That sounds good Sergeant Thomas, and I know just the one, but what, if I may ask, was that all about?”
“Oh nothing, just a letter I found signed by Saddam, and I questioned her about it…” Haad knew there was more to it than that, but was fearful to remain on the subject, saying, “Please be careful, some of these people, male and female are die hard party members of Saddam; and she looks like one.” The sergeant looked at Haad,
“Let’s just have lunch, ok.”
“As you wish Sarg…”
They stopped in front of the kitchen-restaurant known as “al Guta”. When they got in there, of the 40+ tables, there was only two filled. And so they made three. They ordered coffee, and the water said to Haad, who translated in English to the Sergeant:
“We have Rice with Green bean, no meat, and bread, that is it, and of course coffee.”
“It would do,” said Haad, and the Sergeant said he’d pay in dollars.
As they ate the sergeants mind drifted through the morning, it was filled with Sniya, and the market place they drove by, it was a funny scene to only see one vegetable vender in the market, who hand oranges, tomatoes, apples, beans, and everything looked soft and rotting. And finding Sniya, what a lucky chance, or was it luck. Was Haad’s concern real, or simply he didn’t like Americans fooling around with their women. In any case he had made up his mind.
“I see Haad,” said the Sergeant, “There was a meeting a few days ago, where 75-Irdaqi’s got to gather by the ancient Ziggurat by Ur. I heard of that city, it was once ruled by the Great Gilgamesh, and his [he stopped to think of what Haad said], as I was about to say something about the story of Gilgamesh and Shamhat, servant of the goddess [Shamhat’s other name being Harim] the mistress who persuaded Enkidu through sex to go to Uruk to be the friend and lover of Gilgamesh, the King of Sumer. Could Sniya be like her, yet more deadly? Enkidu was a wild man in the Cedar Forest, and equal in strength to Gilgamesh. In all events, he was viewing a comparison in a daydream mode.
As they both [the Sergeant and Haad] left the restaurant, and finished out the day, before Haad had left the sergeant he told him once more to be careful.
The Golden Nest Egg
The Journalist
[Baghdad, June 9th 2003] Said the One Star General,
“That’s quite a story Mr. Lee no need to finish it, just write out the location, and when you get your breath back, summarize it if you can; --now that you’ve told us all this much, we can find the gold on our own.”
The general thought for a moment, looking at his officers, than said:
“But why in heavens name have you come forward and said all this when possible you can write a book, or even bargain with whomever for a piece of the gold?”
Frank Lee noticed the General just staring at him, waiting for an answer. But Frank Lee, didn’t have any more notes, sketches, and he had told most of his story, a good story at that he thought, he just didn’t tell him the ending, and he had to, it was his duty, his job, his honor. And he followed the road less traveled.
“General,” he said, “I himself went to see if the treasure did exist, and it did. But I had not told anyone, just you and these officers here know.” He hesitated, he would tell him in a moment, he had to catch his breath again.
“Well, sir,” said the General, “Can you tell us more, or not?” Again staring at Frank, as Frank looked to the floor, emotions going in and out of him like wild fire.
“I have already seen the gold General,” he said in a tone of voice that left something out, but the several officers standing around him, all remained silent.
Said the General, “And so…I mean, now this is real confusing, you best lay the rest the table, we need to know what is going on…” the general’s face turned to confusion, and dismay.
“Well, President Bush was right, there are Weapons of Mass Destruction, and they are all over in this area where the gold is, in particular. It is a hornet’s nest down in that pit, in the tunnel; it is not only hot as hell, it is seeping with gases; the closer you get to the treasure. When I did get to the gold, which was in a room built into a ceiling, and when I opened up the door hatch, a body came falling on top of me, and gold, a lot of gold, but it was covered with some kind of substance. An open can of viruses, Saddam’s last outrage for revenge, that’s what it was. I am sick Sir; even though I have washed myself for two days straight, I am sicker each day. You may not know it just by watching me, my lungs and body are contaminated. I ran and ran, and ran when I had that substance fall all over me. I didn’t even climb into the Egg-nest of golden coins; maybe a thousand fell on top of me, as it was planned. You see, if Saddam couldn’t have the gold, or the girl, no one could. He expected her to find it. But as you can see, I did. My greed got to me.
The General looked Frank Lee up and down. He had gloves on, and most of his body was covered. He knows put two and two, together. Than stepped back from him.
“Am I going to be infected? I hope not. I don’t know if it is contagious or not. I think the virus is could be small-pocks, or god knows what else. But whatever you do, do not bomb that area or does any kind of ground work, it is most dangerous. Several containers are open, and it is seeping throughout the tunnel. I found the gold several days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
Having said that, the General and the officers quickly ran out of the room; within a minute of them ordering the building contaminated, the General heard a gun shot, Mr. Lee had shot himself.
The Letter from Saddam
The Soldier
Sergeant Thomas found Shiya and dated her until [one full week and a day] April 26, 2003. She could speak very good English, and was very much interested in what happened to the letter [although she didn’t let on to the Sergeant], he told her, and for the most part, put it to rest; or so Sergeant Thomas thought. For that week they made love each and everyday. She knew not where the gold was, and the sergeant couldn’t remember all the details, not even under torture.
On the evening of the 26th she had made a date with the Sergeant, and they met once more, the following evening which would be the last time, at which time both naked in bed the lovers were interrupted by the Iraqi’s know as simply Saddam loyalists; she was told to leave, and they took him and asked where the gold was; he could not tell them, consequently, they did not believe them, and by way of battery-shock, electric currents, he was killed; sold old by his lover, and Saddam’s devoted whore. Something the good sergeant never expected. That was the last time he was ever heard of. It was reported a member of the Ba’th Party was seen leaving her apartment early in the morning, at which time, a trash truck picked up some garbage.
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 9:36 PM
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