Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
New York Times
January 19, 2008
Pg. 4
The Saturday Profile
By Ginger Thompson
DICKENS, Tex.--PAUL SLOUGH may have worked as a cowboy growing up in this tiny town in northwest Texas, but soldiers who served with him were stunned to hear he had been accused of acting like one as a Blackwater security guard in Iraq.
“I went on 20 to 30 missions with Paul. You could always depend on him,” said Jeremiah Thompson, recalling his tour of duty with Mr. Slough in Iraq for the Texas National Guard. “He was always careful. He was always professional. I never knew him to break the rules of engagement.”
Today, Mr. Slough, 28, is at the center of a federal investigation into the Sept. 16 shooting deaths of 17 Iraqis in Baghdad by a convoy of Blackwater security guards. Authorities have refused to talk about the inquiry, except to say it has focused on one guard, identified only as “turret gunner No. 3.”
Through a review of case documents and interviews in Texas and Washington, The New York Times identified the gunner as Mr. Slough, a former infantry soldier who joined Blackwater Worldwide after his dreams of joining the Army Special Forces were quashed by recurring problems from an old football injury.
His story offers a rare look at the men employed by the impenetrable private security company with the highest rate of shootings in Iraq. Military officials and executives of other contracting companies have long complained that Blackwater hired younger, financially struggling recruits; encouraged a shoot-first culture, and then used the company’s deep political connections with the Bush administration to shield its guards from punishment when they killed innocent people.
The Sept. 16 shooting in Nisour Square is considered by the F.B.I., the Pentagon and the Iraqi government to be among the most egregious examples of unprovoked violence by private security contractors. It ignited such outrage that the Iraqi government threatened to ban Blackwater from the country.
The Bush administration changed the way it manages private security contractors. Congress is considering legislation aimed at closing loopholes that allow contractors to escape prosecution for abuses, though Justice Department officials have told legislators their actions would probably be too late to affect this case.
Blackwater has defended the actions of its guards, saying they had come under attack and the shooting was justified, and it often points out that no one under its protection has ever been killed.
WITH his name withheld from public records about the shootings, Mr. Slough (pronounced like now) has not drawn much attention. Described as tall and lean with a carrot-colored beard, he lives with his wife in a well-to-do housing development near Fort Worth.
An uncle, Dewey Slough of Amarillo, said that the last time he talked to his nephew he was working at The Home Depot and looking to find something better. “I told him I had a friend with a construction business and would put in a good word,” the uncle said. “He told me he had found something and was going back to Iraq.”
Less than a month after the shooting, friends said, they saw Paul Slough and his wife at a tailgate party outside a Texas Tech football game in Lubbock. The group included Mr. Thompson, the former Texas National Guard member. He said Mr. Slough looked like the stereotype of a Blackwater guard: Oakley sunglasses, cargo pants, cropped hair and a chiseled physique.
“I asked him: ‘Man, I heard there was some trouble over there. Were you involved?’” Mr. Thompson recalled. “He just nodded, and told me it wasn’t like what I had read in the papers.”
A Blackwater spokeswoman, Anne Tyrrell, would not comment for this article, saying the company did not want to interfere with a continuing investigation.
Mr. Slough also declined to be interviewed for this article, but his first statement to investigators was posted on the Internet, with just his first name, by ABC News.
In it, Mr. Slough recounted the mayhem in dry military language. He described coming under an elaborate attack that he said had begun when the driver of a white four-door sedan ignored numerous hand signals and drove directly at the Blackwater motorcade.
“Fearing for my life and the lives of my teammates,” Mr. Slough said, “I engaged the driver and stopped the threat.”
He said he saw muzzle flashes from a shack 50 meters, or about 160 feet, behind the car; a man in a blue button-down shirt and black pants pointing an AK-47; small arms fire from a red bus that had stopped in an intersection; and a red car backing up toward his convoy.
“Fearing that it was a vbied,” he said, using the military acronym for a car bomb, “I engaged in order to stop the threat.”
Initial investigations by the Pentagon, the F.B.I. and the Iraqi government found no evidence to support Mr. Slough’s account — no car bombs, no signs of enemy fire or insurgents. The F.B.I. concluded that at least 14 of the 17 fatal shootings had been unjustified, saying Blackwater guards had recklessly violated American rules for the use of lethal force. Military investigators went further, saying all the deaths were unjustified and potentially criminal. Iraqi authorities characterized the shootings as “deliberate murder.”
Mr. Slough’s lawyer, Mark Hulkower, said security contractors in Iraq work in “an extraordinarily challenging environment, where the enemy does not wear uniforms, unless disguised as Iraqi soldiers or police to exploit civilians.”
He said contractors “cannot be asked to ignore real threats when making split-second, life-and-death decisions.” And he said he was confident federal prosecutors would find that his client and the other Blackwater guards had acted appropriately under established rules of engagement.
“To conclude otherwise,” he said, “would cause those now defending against terrorist threats to choose between dying in a foreign country and being branded as a criminal in their own.”
This flat, arid corner of the country, settled by cattle ranchers, is not different from many small towns that propel young men and women into the military. It is a place where working-class people hold traditional ideas about what it means to be an American, where churches outnumber restaurants and children learn to handle weapons not long after learning to read and write.
Several people here said problems with alcohol made it difficult for Mr. Slough’s father, Paul Slough Sr., to hold a steady job. (The father has since died.) They said the younger Mr. Slough grew up quickly, juggling schoolwork and a job roping cattle.
Mike Norrell, Mr. Slough’s former teacher at Patton Springs School, recalled Mr. Slough as a boy who craved learning. He said that while other students memorized lessons, Mr. Slough questioned everything he read.
Rita Brandle, who runs a general store, said: “It was as if the child was the father, and the father was the child. We were happy to see him go off and join the Army.”
Mr. Slough’s military career was relatively brief. Joining in 1999, he served in the Third Infantry Division at Fort Stewart, Ga., conducted at least 100 patrols as part of the NATO peacekeeping force in Bosnia, and reached the rank of sergeant. After an honorable discharge in 2002, he enlisted in the Texas National Guard, and was deployed to Iraq in December 2004 as part of a personal security detail. He ended his yearlong tour with little more than the medals given to every soldier who serves in Iraq .
Still, James Kirksey and Mr. Thompson, who both served with Mr. Slough, said they looked up to him for his maturity, discipline and intellect. He had a serious bearing and was the kind of soldier, Mr. Kirksey said, who obeyed an order whether he agreed with it or not.
WHEN asked what they knew about Mr. Slough’s reasons for joining Blackwater, they cast about and came up with conflicting theories. Mr. Thompson said money was not a motive, though he acknowledged that Mr. Slough was worried about providing a comfortable life for his new bride. And Mr. Kirksey said the reason was not some chase for glory, though he acknowledged that Mr. Slough had once told him he “wanted to become an officer and lead men.”
Both were emphatic, however, in saying that Mr. Slough had not become some kind of cowboy, high on adrenaline and quick on the trigger. They said it was true Mr. Slough liked the hardest assignments, which usually meant he served at the rear of their convoys, perched on a Humvee with his finger on the trigger of a .50-caliber machine gun.
“With some guys at the rear, I’d get nervous about an ambush,” Mr. Kirksey said. “Some soldiers would panic and freeze up. You’d never have to worry about that with Paul.” He added, “But you’d never have to worry about him being jumpy either.”
Mr. Thompson and Mr. Kirksey remembered a mission that took them through a city near Nasiriya. As their convoy turned down a street, bullets were fired from an apartment building in the distance.
“Paul told me that shots were buzzing past his head like bees,” Mr. Kirksey said. “He was standing at a weapon that was strong enough to cut one of those buildings in half. But he didn’t fire a shot.”
“After it was over, I asked Paul, ‘Why didn’t you light into them?’” Mr. Thompson recalled. “He told me because he didn’t have a clear target. He didn’t want to hurt innocent bystanders.”
January 19, 2008
Pg. 4
The Saturday Profile
By Ginger Thompson
DICKENS, Tex.--PAUL SLOUGH may have worked as a cowboy growing up in this tiny town in northwest Texas, but soldiers who served with him were stunned to hear he had been accused of acting like one as a Blackwater security guard in Iraq.
“I went on 20 to 30 missions with Paul. You could always depend on him,” said Jeremiah Thompson, recalling his tour of duty with Mr. Slough in Iraq for the Texas National Guard. “He was always careful. He was always professional. I never knew him to break the rules of engagement.”
Today, Mr. Slough, 28, is at the center of a federal investigation into the Sept. 16 shooting deaths of 17 Iraqis in Baghdad by a convoy of Blackwater security guards. Authorities have refused to talk about the inquiry, except to say it has focused on one guard, identified only as “turret gunner No. 3.”
Through a review of case documents and interviews in Texas and Washington, The New York Times identified the gunner as Mr. Slough, a former infantry soldier who joined Blackwater Worldwide after his dreams of joining the Army Special Forces were quashed by recurring problems from an old football injury.
His story offers a rare look at the men employed by the impenetrable private security company with the highest rate of shootings in Iraq. Military officials and executives of other contracting companies have long complained that Blackwater hired younger, financially struggling recruits; encouraged a shoot-first culture, and then used the company’s deep political connections with the Bush administration to shield its guards from punishment when they killed innocent people.
The Sept. 16 shooting in Nisour Square is considered by the F.B.I., the Pentagon and the Iraqi government to be among the most egregious examples of unprovoked violence by private security contractors. It ignited such outrage that the Iraqi government threatened to ban Blackwater from the country.
The Bush administration changed the way it manages private security contractors. Congress is considering legislation aimed at closing loopholes that allow contractors to escape prosecution for abuses, though Justice Department officials have told legislators their actions would probably be too late to affect this case.
Blackwater has defended the actions of its guards, saying they had come under attack and the shooting was justified, and it often points out that no one under its protection has ever been killed.
WITH his name withheld from public records about the shootings, Mr. Slough (pronounced like now) has not drawn much attention. Described as tall and lean with a carrot-colored beard, he lives with his wife in a well-to-do housing development near Fort Worth.
An uncle, Dewey Slough of Amarillo, said that the last time he talked to his nephew he was working at The Home Depot and looking to find something better. “I told him I had a friend with a construction business and would put in a good word,” the uncle said. “He told me he had found something and was going back to Iraq.”
Less than a month after the shooting, friends said, they saw Paul Slough and his wife at a tailgate party outside a Texas Tech football game in Lubbock. The group included Mr. Thompson, the former Texas National Guard member. He said Mr. Slough looked like the stereotype of a Blackwater guard: Oakley sunglasses, cargo pants, cropped hair and a chiseled physique.
“I asked him: ‘Man, I heard there was some trouble over there. Were you involved?’” Mr. Thompson recalled. “He just nodded, and told me it wasn’t like what I had read in the papers.”
A Blackwater spokeswoman, Anne Tyrrell, would not comment for this article, saying the company did not want to interfere with a continuing investigation.
Mr. Slough also declined to be interviewed for this article, but his first statement to investigators was posted on the Internet, with just his first name, by ABC News.
In it, Mr. Slough recounted the mayhem in dry military language. He described coming under an elaborate attack that he said had begun when the driver of a white four-door sedan ignored numerous hand signals and drove directly at the Blackwater motorcade.
“Fearing for my life and the lives of my teammates,” Mr. Slough said, “I engaged the driver and stopped the threat.”
He said he saw muzzle flashes from a shack 50 meters, or about 160 feet, behind the car; a man in a blue button-down shirt and black pants pointing an AK-47; small arms fire from a red bus that had stopped in an intersection; and a red car backing up toward his convoy.
“Fearing that it was a vbied,” he said, using the military acronym for a car bomb, “I engaged in order to stop the threat.”
Initial investigations by the Pentagon, the F.B.I. and the Iraqi government found no evidence to support Mr. Slough’s account — no car bombs, no signs of enemy fire or insurgents. The F.B.I. concluded that at least 14 of the 17 fatal shootings had been unjustified, saying Blackwater guards had recklessly violated American rules for the use of lethal force. Military investigators went further, saying all the deaths were unjustified and potentially criminal. Iraqi authorities characterized the shootings as “deliberate murder.”
Mr. Slough’s lawyer, Mark Hulkower, said security contractors in Iraq work in “an extraordinarily challenging environment, where the enemy does not wear uniforms, unless disguised as Iraqi soldiers or police to exploit civilians.”
He said contractors “cannot be asked to ignore real threats when making split-second, life-and-death decisions.” And he said he was confident federal prosecutors would find that his client and the other Blackwater guards had acted appropriately under established rules of engagement.
“To conclude otherwise,” he said, “would cause those now defending against terrorist threats to choose between dying in a foreign country and being branded as a criminal in their own.”
This flat, arid corner of the country, settled by cattle ranchers, is not different from many small towns that propel young men and women into the military. It is a place where working-class people hold traditional ideas about what it means to be an American, where churches outnumber restaurants and children learn to handle weapons not long after learning to read and write.
Several people here said problems with alcohol made it difficult for Mr. Slough’s father, Paul Slough Sr., to hold a steady job. (The father has since died.) They said the younger Mr. Slough grew up quickly, juggling schoolwork and a job roping cattle.
Mike Norrell, Mr. Slough’s former teacher at Patton Springs School, recalled Mr. Slough as a boy who craved learning. He said that while other students memorized lessons, Mr. Slough questioned everything he read.
Rita Brandle, who runs a general store, said: “It was as if the child was the father, and the father was the child. We were happy to see him go off and join the Army.”
Mr. Slough’s military career was relatively brief. Joining in 1999, he served in the Third Infantry Division at Fort Stewart, Ga., conducted at least 100 patrols as part of the NATO peacekeeping force in Bosnia, and reached the rank of sergeant. After an honorable discharge in 2002, he enlisted in the Texas National Guard, and was deployed to Iraq in December 2004 as part of a personal security detail. He ended his yearlong tour with little more than the medals given to every soldier who serves in Iraq .
Still, James Kirksey and Mr. Thompson, who both served with Mr. Slough, said they looked up to him for his maturity, discipline and intellect. He had a serious bearing and was the kind of soldier, Mr. Kirksey said, who obeyed an order whether he agreed with it or not.
WHEN asked what they knew about Mr. Slough’s reasons for joining Blackwater, they cast about and came up with conflicting theories. Mr. Thompson said money was not a motive, though he acknowledged that Mr. Slough was worried about providing a comfortable life for his new bride. And Mr. Kirksey said the reason was not some chase for glory, though he acknowledged that Mr. Slough had once told him he “wanted to become an officer and lead men.”
Both were emphatic, however, in saying that Mr. Slough had not become some kind of cowboy, high on adrenaline and quick on the trigger. They said it was true Mr. Slough liked the hardest assignments, which usually meant he served at the rear of their convoys, perched on a Humvee with his finger on the trigger of a .50-caliber machine gun.
“With some guys at the rear, I’d get nervous about an ambush,” Mr. Kirksey said. “Some soldiers would panic and freeze up. You’d never have to worry about that with Paul.” He added, “But you’d never have to worry about him being jumpy either.”
Mr. Thompson and Mr. Kirksey remembered a mission that took them through a city near Nasiriya. As their convoy turned down a street, bullets were fired from an apartment building in the distance.
“Paul told me that shots were buzzing past his head like bees,” Mr. Kirksey said. “He was standing at a weapon that was strong enough to cut one of those buildings in half. But he didn’t fire a shot.”
“After it was over, I asked Paul, ‘Why didn’t you light into them?’” Mr. Thompson recalled. “He told me because he didn’t have a clear target. He didn’t want to hurt innocent bystanders.”