The Bremer Detail by John M. Del Vecchio Frank Gallagher

ceilings from which, we were told, the Hussein brothers used to hang their enemies. We even found several handguns that had been left in various locations around the property—in the outbuildings, on the roof, in the garden. It was pretty bizarre.
    Guarding Bremer’s sleeping quarters was not part of the initial Blackwater contract, but we had to make it work. Six of my new thirty-four men were designated to go and secure the villa. It was not quite the glamorous “world-famous bodyguard” job for which they’d signed up. Everybody wanted to be on the team with the boss. Feelings were hurt, and in the beginning some guys thought being assigned to the villa meant they were on the B-team and somehow unworthy. No job on the detail was any less important than any other job. Everybody had to pull their weight and do the assigned task to the best of their ability. I put one of my men, Sax, at the villa initially to oversee the security enhancements and to make sure that the guys were doing the job as we had outlined. Sax was a former SEAL, and he took over the villa and ran it well. All this was accomplished in short order, and I moved him over to the advance team.
    So, doing the math, out of thirty-four men I had two Ops/support guys, six guys at the villa, and two dog handlers, leaving just twenty-six people (this included Bird and me) for the advance team and the detail. The advance team always went out with the two dog guys and twelve men. That left eleven for the detail; with room for one man being sick, hurt, or otherwise incapacitated.
    The food was well below American standards, the heat was unbearable, jet lag exacerbated problems, and still the team hit the ground running roughly one day after landing. Coordinating everything each day became a logistical nightmare. Guys were sick, tired, cranky, and some just plain should not have been there. In the haste to put the team together, the selection process was not as stringent as it would eventually become. We found out very quickly who the “real men” were and who the pretenders were. Guys complained about the hours and said they were being overworked and forced to miss meals. Some complained I was working them too hard and they were not getting enough sleep. Some complained about the living conditions, some about the food. My response was pretty much always the same, “If the ambassador can do it, so can we. If you want to go home, just ask.”
    The typical day began at 0530 with the detail meeting in front of the palace before heading over to the ambassador’s villa. We would get to the villa, talk to the guys there, and see how the night had gone; then we’d form up security around the building to ensure that if an attack happened we could get the ambassador back into the house or into the armored vehicle as quickly as possible. He left the villa around 0630 each morning to begin his day. This happened every single day we were there. The route to the palace was a short motorcade trip, but nevertheless strict mental discipline needed to be maintained. We could never let our guard down. We would arrive at the office, form the security formation around the motorcade, and escort the ambassador into the palace. Once inside his office we posted one man to stay at the door and another outside the office to man the metal detectors and work with our MP escort team to keep unauthorized people from entering. The MPs were invaluable in this position as they had the power to arrest anyone who defied their orders to stop. Many people (military and nonmilitary) were in the habit of carrying weapons with them everywhere they went. We did NOT and would not allow any weapons, except for the ones that the Blackwater guys were carrying, inside the ambassador’s office. It became an issue more than a few times. Without the MPs’ presence, I’m sure it would have gotten very ugly.
    There was a one-hour rotation of the posts around the office, thirty minutes on his door and thirty