Zeeman is an interpreter working for American troops. Day after day, he plays a crucial role in bridging the language and culture gaps between young, often nervous Americans inter-acting with often bruised and frightened Iraqis – whether its calming fears, picking up tit-bits of intelligence or going on a raid.   

Four years ago and just turned seventeen, Zeeman was still a schoolboy hoping to take exams – and a part-time interpreter. “I was working at an American checkpoint,” he said, “That was back in the days when interpreters wore civilian clothing. When I turned up for school after that, the head teacher expelled me, because he’d been through the check-point and had recognised me. He said I couldn’t come back because I was a traitor.”   

Zeeman is not his real name. He asked that I didn’t film his face at all. Nor did he want me to describe what he actually looked like. I first met him a year ago in the once-affluent neighbourhood of Gazalia that had been brutalised by Al Qaeda-inspired insurgents until US troops took it back and began a hearts and minds campaign to win over Iraqi trust.   

Zeeman had been a key element of the small company that set up base in a villa there. “You need to do more than just translate language,” he said. “You need to show exactly the mood and feelings of the two sides you’re translating for. You need to act out what is going on.”  

I caught up with him again in what used to be an upmarket shopping mall and is now the base for the Four-Ten Cavalry Regiment that handles a vast area of