A war that plunged Iraq into unimaginable fear and grief

In those first days and weeks, the plumes of smoke from the bombed and burning buildings still filled the skies. The initial joy that had accompanied the toppling statues and monuments of Saddam Hussein had already waned.

- BORZOU DARAGAHI

There was restlessness, uncertainty and fear. But many still had hope. Americans, Iraqis and many others on the ground in the country believed there was a chance for the country to find a path to stability, decency and normalcy.

There were cries of joy and ritualised religious chanting in the vast, poor Shia quarter of Baghdad that was quickly renamed Sadr City. Even sullen Sunnis from Tikrit and Fallujah seemed willing to give the Americans and the new order they were about to launch a chance. That is not to mention the Kurdish Peshmerga warriors with whom I was embedded, as they teamed up with US special forces and stormed into northern Iraqi towns.

But all the euphoria ended quickly, and very soon it became clear to everyone but the most naive that the narrative was shifting toward gloom. In the end, the US invasion 20 years ago plunged Iraqis into unimaginable fear, pain, loss and grief. Perhaps a quarter million people have died violently in Iraq since 2003, and as many as 1 million may have died gratuitously. The war cooked up by cynical Beltway operatives and lobbyists and exploited by politically well-connected contractors also altered the politics of the US and UK for the worse; perhaps permanently.

Thinking back to those early months, I am not sure when it should have become clear that this invasion built on lies would turn out so disastrously. Perhaps it was August 2003 when insurgents bombed the UN compound in Baghdad and killed Ayatollah Muhammad Baqir al-Hakim im Najaf. I detected glints of the horrors and anguish to come as early as the middle of April, when I spotted US soldiers rounding up any military aged men in Saddam's hometown of Tikrit, ordering them on their knees and putting black hoods over their heads. The boys from the exurbs of Phoenix or Gary, Indiana were crude and disrespectful, and I shuddered at what must have been the humiliation and anger of the Iraqis.