José Manuel Sánchez Riera: "In Iraq, a man kissed my cheek and saved my life."

On November 29, 2003, eight members of the CNI were traveling in their vehicles from Baghdad to the bases in Diwaniya and Najaf. It was during the Iraq War. They had traveled approximately 30 kilometers when they were ambushed, killing all but one of the agents: José Manuel Sánchez Riera. Now, more than 20 years later, he has decided to tell his story in the book Three days in November (Editorial Espada).

November 29, 2003. What word comes to mind?

— Horror. Death.

I had just arrived in Iraq.

— We'd only been there for three days. We'd landed in Kuwait and headed to our bases in Iraq. There were eight of us in total: the four who were regulars at the base, and the four who had just arrived to relieve them.

What was the mission?

— We were the counterintelligence and security teams. We had to gather information from local contacts and pass it on to the military command for decision-making.

He describes the ambush very accurately in the book.

— I think back now and still remember it perfectly. We were split into two vehicles when suddenly we heard a very loud engine noise and gunshots. I looked back and saw the guns sticking out of the right side of the vehicle.

They managed to injure the driver.

— Alfonso. I remember him saying, "They hit me." He swerved, and we went off the road. He was dead, José Carlos was seriously wounded, and Carlos and I were unharmed. They continued shooting at us until the second car from our team arrived, and we saw they were in the same situation as us: one dead and one seriously wounded. That's when Carlos told me to go get help.

What did he do?

— Crossing the road and trying to stop a vehicle. I saw that no one would stop there. So I went to an area where several cars were stopped. But I couldn't get any help. In fact, they started hitting me, took my seatbelt, used it to tie my hands, and put me in a trunk.

Did you think it was over?

— And I wanted it to be over. I thought they could only kill me or kidnap me. And I preferred to die quickly.

But something absolutely surreal happened.

— A well-dressed man, about my age, appeared. He approached me, looked at me, and kissed me on the cheek. The people who had been yelling at me left, and others quickly appeared, offering help.

So it's a kiss that saves his life.

— Yes, I understood the situation better later. That was a very complex Iraq, with two warring communities where no one wanted to stand out. They beat me, but they didn't kill me, and they could have. They put me in the trunk, but they didn't take me away.

Do you know who that man is?

— Yes, he lives in the area and is related to one of the tribal leaders we had lunch with on the 27th. He didn't know I was CNI, but he was a Westerner. I've never spoken, but he knows he has my eternal gratitude.

Finally, he arrived at the American base.

— And for the first time, I remembered I had family. I saw a phone and was able to call them. I spent the night there, a difficult night.

Because?

— Because it's the night of individual development; no one had been there with me. It's the night of cowardice, because I felt cowardly for being alive. It's also a night of guilt, because my companions were dead. It's the night of fear, and also of joy and sadness. Too many emotions for a human mind.

What was it like to come back?

— At first, everything was fine. I was thrilled to be reunited with my family; I cried like a baby when I saw my wife and children.

It says "in the beginning."

— I didn't sleep a single night between 2003 and 2014. And starting in the fourth year, everything got complicated. I stopped hearing. I told my wife I didn't love her, or my children.

I could have told him to leave the house.

— However, she told me she needed a doctor. I knew I was hurting them, but I didn't care. Writing the book is a way of saying sorry, because those were very difficult times.

He ended up listening to her and went to the doctor.

— Eight months later, yes. And he told me I needed to take medication. I wasn't aware at the time that I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Until one day, as I was entering the CNI headquarters in Madrid, on the main staircase, I stopped and started to cry. I called him and asked him to help me, because I couldn't take it anymore.

How do you get out of there?

— In my case, with medication and, above all, with the support of my family. Without my wife, I don't know what I'd be like now.

But he left the CNI.

— It took me 1,500 conversations with the psychiatrist, but it was the only way I could begin to recover. He told me that I wasn't aware of how going there every day, seeing the monument, remembering my comrades, affected me. And it's true that flashbacks They're cute in movies because they have music, but for me, they made me relive the same feelings. It was like being in Iraq again, but trying to rewrite history, change it so no one would die.

Have you ever wondered why they went?

— No, we went because there was a mission, and that's it. As public servants, we can't weigh in on political decisions. Otherwise, we'd be in over our heads.

Has your view of war changed?

— It can change one's personal view on certain aspects. For example, I would be incapable of killing, because after my subsequent experience and contact with victims of terrorism, I see the pain generated by a violent death. And how the question "Why my son, my brother, my wife" keeps coming back? And I think if you're looking for a solution, the answer is simple: more mother prime ministers. There would be fewer wars, because I'm sure a mother faces the decision of having to send someone to die or kill differently.

Why do you explain it now?

— Because it's been 20 years, and because I have hope that it can be of some use.

How is it now?

— Fine, calm, and dealing with the common problems of mortals: paying the bills, keeping my children happy. If I see that those around me are happy, I am happy too.