How did I imagine I could be anywhere else for this day?

It was only 4:45 a.m., a time when mere mortals should still be asleep and only chickens greeting the day. “All Americans in your boots!” barked Col Infanti. Apparently, it was time to get up.

Then glancing down at my slit eyes: “I’m getting dirty looks from the civilians,” he joked as he reentered the hallway. By 5 a.m. we were all in the first of several daily briefings at the police station where we had spent the night on little green cots packed like sardines in a dank room. This first briefing was to review the last 24 hours of violence and operations, and to prepare for various scenarios in the coming day. The previous day there was a total of 28 attacks by AIF [anti Iraqi forces] across the western operating area of 10th Mountain Battalion, up in almost every neighborhood from the day before. Still, there was nothing catastrophic, nothing that hadn’t been anticipated, except maybe a few details, one of which called for a clarification request: “Is that true that AIF approached on horseback?” “Affirmative, sir.” In another instance AIF rode around to polling places threatening people not to vote by loudspeaker. “Now that’s creative: horseback and loudspeakers…” Col. Milley said.

The officers review various threats, issues and points of concern: AIF could use wheelchairs, ambulances, large women (!) and even Iraqi Police (IP) vehicles packed with explosives: At least three IP vehicles with the official security sticker had already been stolen. Then to test security, an Iraqi went downstairs to see if he could acquire a sticker. $15 was the going price.

Milley explains, and rightly so, that his main concern is friend or foe identification hoping to avoid to any accidental friendly fire. Then he says that if anything happens it’s going to be before noon to intimidate voters, so we haul on our protective gear and hit the road.

By 6:50 a.m. we’re on the road, cutting through a thick morning haze and sharing the desolate highways only with other humvees, Bradley fighting vehicles, and police, as the driving ban is in effect. The stillness is eerie until a caravan of white Suburbans speeds by, most likely delivering election officials. It’s about 6:55 a.m. and the polls open at 7.
We go to a bridge at a large intersection and wait. There is no news of anyone going to the polls and just before 8 a.m. we hear our first large explosion. Everyone is quiet waiting for a report. A sense of momentary dread descends. What if you throw an election and no one comes?

When a report crackles over the radio that a woman waiting in line says she wants to be the first woman in Iraq to vote, we erupt in cheers. And a woman no less!
Soon reports of voters across the Baghdad area are trickling in, as are instances of violence. At about 8:20 a Sudanese national with explosives strapped to his stomach tries to enter a polling station in western Baghdad. He is stopped by an Iraqi police officer and detonates himself killing the officer and blowing unrecognizable bits of body parts across the street. His intact head sits outside a wire barrier just feet from the dead officer. An unexploded hand grenade lands nearby.

Gunfire begins to ring out and soon there explosions – a lot of them. Eight to ten booms - maybe mortar rounds, rockets, and IEDs - fall somewhere in Baghdad. My heart sinks for the second time and I actually feel a bit of fear. Could this really be the day of fire threatened by Islamic extremists?

After assessing the incredibly grizzly bomber scene we head back to our bridge perch and wait. Voters are still streaming to polls despite the violence. This is normal to them; it is more of the same. A soldier reports some groups of people walking down the highway. They say they’re going to vote. Soon the group thickens and the soldier puts out a call for water. “Sir, we may want to get a bird up for a view of this.” We decide to head over.

Hundreds and maybe thousands of voters, mostly men wearing dish dash robes and plastic sandals, are walking from the town of Abu Ghraib whose own polls were closed, 20 kilometers eastwards to polls in Hooriya and Ghazaliya. Many were dancing as they walked and chanted “God is great’ and ‘God prays for Mohammed.’ Few of them had any water; one held a wrinkled copy of his voter registration form in his hands. One man had no shoes; another carried a pigeon – a dove of peace, he said.

“We are walking all these miles because we are tired of the old regime and we want freedom and democracy,” said 40-year-old Ali Masen, who said that many of these men from the town of White Gold in Abu Ghraib had organized ahead of time to walk together to the polls. “Our older people are in the back. They are slower, but they are coming.”

One woman, alone with her black robe flowing and a bottle of water in her arms walked by, pulling her abaya further over her head as she passed a group of male soldiers. The translator said he wouldn’t talk to her. It is too impolite for a man to speak with a woman, he said. I kept from hitting him and let her pass, a black dot in a sea of men going to vote for the first time.

Back in the vehicle we heard of two other suicide bombers, and several more small arms fire and mortar attacks.

We head to a polling station in Shula, a predominantly Shiite area. Men and women emerge wiping their stained finger with a piece of Kleenex. A husband and wife stand on either side of an old woman and hold her hands as they walk out from the gates. Inside, there is a line of people signing up to vote and several people in the process of doing so. Already there have been nearly 1000 people here to vote, says Mohamed Hasin a lawyer working at the site. In front of us one woman gently folds her ballot in several pieces and then drops it into a clear plastic ballot box.

“I voted from the bottom of my heart and for all my family. I am so happy,” said 57-year-old Rafidah Fatheh Shaab. “I was not afraid. Today I even skipped breakfast so I could pray for all Iraqis -- and even Americans—to have freedom and prosperity.”

Then she held up her hand to show a blue stained finger, the official mark that she had voted. “It has been black in Iraq since 1963 and today the sun is shining,” she said, smiling.
Americans haven’t seen so many smiles and waves in a long time and everyone is self-congratulatory. Freedom, baby. That’s what the Col. keeps telling people who approach him, and those who insist on thanking the Americans for helping in this election. “It’s you guys doing the work. You’re the brave ones,” the soldiers respond.

On the way to the next polling station we hear that 14 people have already been killed. It’s only 11:30.

The next poll stop is empty but pollsters say that almost a hundred have already voted.
They have official looking white badges -- and stained fingers.

Outside, explosions resound across Baghdad, more IEDs, mortar rounds, grenades, and small arms fire, including rockets, but the officials barely notice. They are eager for me to take a photo of the plastic ballot boxes half full with folded pieces of paper.

Ultimately, more than 40 people will die on election day and up to 75 will be wounded. Though extraordinary by itself, in Iraq, and especially on this long awaited day, these numbers are small. It’s the results of amazing cooperation between Army, National Guard and Iraqi Police forces.

We continue patrolling, mostly in Shiite areas and see the streets slowly turning into a carnival atmosphere. Kids are playing soccer on the streets, men and women walk down the sidewalks or share stories in doorways. They stop to watch the passing patrol and for the most part share smiles and enthusiastic waves.

I am riding in a four-humvee caravan with soldiers and a team from Fox news. The Col. is incredibly generous in letting us stop at the stations for interviews, though there is certainly self-interest: obviously he wants America to see what we’re seeing, hear what we’re hearing.

Despite the violence, voters streamed to the polls in relatively small but consistent numbers throughout the day, with a turnout of up to 90% in some Shiite neighborhoods, and about 40- 50% in some Sunni areas in western Baghdad. Overall election officials said about 60% of 13 million registered voters showed up at the polls.

As predicted, Shiite turnout was much higher than for the minority Sunni population, as Shiites make up nearly 60% of the country’s 26 million people. They were expected to gain a significant powerbase in this vote for a 275-member National Assembly. Sunnis make up 20% of Iraq’s population and had been told by some of their leaders not to vote. Some heeded the Fatwa, some didn’t.

At the next poll we find a 25-year old Sunni woman helping her 80 year-old father into the polling booth. She wears snug western clothes and speaks perfect English, and she’s eager to talk about voting.

“My father was a General in the Iraqi Army and this is the first time for Iraqis to taste freedom,” said 25-year-old Dr. Zeena Hassam, who is a doctor working in Kurdistan. Hassam said she and her father paid no attention to calls for a boycott. The day is too important and the waiting was too long, she said.

“It is the duty of every Iraqi to vote. We are Sunni, and my relatives and my friends, we all know it is our duty, and it is our honor.”

The Sunni boycott, and especially the threats and terrorism, may have frightened off some voters, but others weren’t fazed.

Aerial imagery apparently caught voters spitting on and kicking the remains of a suicide bomber as they entered their polling station. Other Iraqis waiting in line in Sadr City came under a mortar attack that hit a man in his leg. They helped the injured man then got back in line to vote, election officials reported.

“Of course we are afraid, but we must do this. We walked for two miles and my husband is sick. We have been preparing to vote for a long time and my son made sure we were here before polls closed,” said Suna Sharif as she left a voting station with her son and husband. I asked her she voted for but her husband quickly cut her off. “We don’t talk about that.”

Coming from a place where people avoid voting for fear of missing an episode of “Friends”, it was extremely moving to see so many people challenging threats of death to have their voices heard. They walked to the polls in groups and alone, with entire families in tow, sometimes holding hands. Men wore robes, traditional Dish Dash, and several were in formal suits. Most women covered themselves in full abaya; some wore western clothes. I could have stood outside a single polling place and photographed all day, it was so incredibly powerful. But there was much to review and we never stayed long at any one place.

By late afternoon the Col. starts talking about ballots and securing the stations. Reports are coming in that some Iraqi forces are leaving their posts. We quickly head to some stations to make sure everything is secured. Then to an area warehouse to make sure ballots are being delivered. This would be the next target in any effort to discredit the election – and it still may be. Reports are already coming in of tens of thousands of voters not getting ballots in the northern areas of Mosul and Samarra.

Back at the central command center, which has been set up in an Iraqi Police station in town, people are excited as they send in reports across Baghdad of Iraqis voting. Then one commander haltingly reports a C-130 plane crash, maybe two, no one knows for sure. There is no need for a rescue mission he says carefully; from the descriptions of the crash only recovery and body bags are necessary. The mood plummets in the room. Within the hour we learn that it was a British c-130 and by the next morning we find that ten people have died.

By nightfall, reports of ongoing attacks were still pouring into the central command station. Focus was turned to protecting ballots and the days ahead, and helping police forces who were to continue securing polling sites through the night. Everyone was tired, as the majority of officers and soldiers had been camping out and working nonstop for about four days already.

The police chief from downstairs took a moment from his organizing to show off his stained finger and asked for a photo with the Col. An officer with the Iraqi National Guard joined him, holding his blue index finger in the air. We all took photos to remember the moment. In the background the radio crackled out reports of more IEDs and small arms fire attacks, polling stations being breached and more wounded and killed.

Still, the violence level is less than expected and by the next morning everyone is left wondering where the car bombs, rumored to have entered Baghdad by the dozens for the elections, may be, if they exist at all. And if they do exist, but weren’t able to detonate during the election because of the increased security measures, then when and where will they make their next appearance?

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