Word: mudding
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...guide to take us cross-country from the capital, Ulan Bator, to the northwestern Lake Hovsgol in a Swiss Alpine-like region of reindeer herders near the Russian border. Though the trip is scheduled for two days, it takes four to grind over dried-out riverbeds and slog through mud bogs between hills that roll like waves and crest into craggy rock. The land is so empty at times that a mere stand of trees is welcome relief...
...signs of looting are already clear, however. A new car with five self-styled Kurdish guerillas drove by, telling a stirring tale of gunfights and escape and pointing to a bullethole and a smashed window in the side of the car. The car plates, however, were covered over with mud - usually a sign that a car has been looted or stolen. Local people say they have not seen U.S. troops in the city, despite news reports. The troops will have to move in fast and have a law inforcement land aid if they are to prevent the scenes of "untidiness...
Iraqi irregulars have tried everything to get at 2nd Brigade soldiers. When two Bradley fighting vehicles got stuck in the mud, dozens of irregulars, armed with a machine gun, tow missiles and a chain-firing cannon, tried to crawl up to them. Another group attempted to paddle across the Euphrates river, shooting RPGs as they approached. Their five boats were blown apart on the water. All of these attacks ended similarly. "It's not a fair fight," says Major Kevin Dunlop. "Trucks with machine guns against tanks and Bradleys can only have one outcome. We are slaughtering them...
...here in Al Qadisiyah, the hearts-and-minds exercise is a priority, since the Marines need to secure two towns and two hamlets along a road linking a pair of north-south highways in the vicinity. The area forms a picture of rustic simplicity: donkeys tied up next to mud-brick houses, children playing near a canal, a young girl in a pink dress and a pink cardigan chasing a cow through her garden...
...this sort of journalism. Many journalists had left, and I was sitting on a small hill some distance from the remaining group, airing my feet and trying to do something about a faint but disturbing odor that had infiltrated my boots after a night spent sleeping in the mud a couple of weeks ago. A pickup drew up at the checkpoint and an official climbed up towards me to pray. When he was finished he came over and we shook hands - the Kurds are remarkably polite people...