My Time as a Guest in the German Bundeswehr in Erbil, Kurdistan

A Night in Erbil: The Unusual Encounter at the Crystal Hotel

It was my final night in Kurdistan before catching a 4 a.m. flight back home. Earlier that morning, Colonel Stephan Spoettel, the commander of German coalition forces in the region, had been found dead in his room at the Crystal Hotel in Erbil. After sharing a meal and some beers with Phil Campion, a former member of the 22nd Special Air Service (SAS), I decided to visit the hotel to see if I could uncover more details about the incident. The Germans had been playing a crucial role in supporting the Peshmerga in their fight against ISIS, and the loss of Colonel Spoettel was a significant blow to the coalition effort.

I took a taxi across Erbil and arrived at the Crystal Hotel, which was surrounded by concrete barriers. It was clear that the Germans took force protection seriously. They had rented out the entire hotel for over a million dollars a month and fortified it to resemble a forward operating base. As I snapped a few photos on my phone, a gate guard approached me. He wore a black uniform, had a mohawk, and carried an AKM rifle. He asked me to wait while he called his boss, who spoke English.

The gate guard’s boss arrived in an OD green uniform and began questioning me about my identity and why I was taking pictures of the hotel. I asked him who he was, suspecting he might be part of the Kurdish secret police. He replied, “Asyaish,” confirming my suspicions. These were the same officials who had interrogated me eight hours earlier in November. Their methods were professional but frustrating, and I had to rely on my SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape) training to navigate the situation. Eventually, I was released after explaining my military background.

This time, however, I wasn’t so lucky. The Asyaish official apologized for the inconvenience but insisted on escorting me inside for further questioning. At the first gate, I was searched, and they overlooked a karambit knife I had in my pocket. I handed it over, showing respect for the security protocols in place.

Inside the hotel, I was taken through layers of security, including concrete barriers and checkpoints. It felt surreal—like the very people who were worried about a potential terrorist casing the building were now leading me through their defenses. I was asked to sit in a plush chair while the officials conferred. After a few minutes, a second Kurd introduced himself as the hotel’s security head, and a German soldier in desert camo approached. Again, they questioned me about my identity and purpose.

The German soldier, speaking with an accent, asked me to delete the photos I had taken. I complied. Then, the security head requested my passport. I explained that I had left it at my hotel. This presented a problem, as they needed the information to release me. They offered a solution: they would ask my hotel to send a scan of my passport. I agreed and called the hotel.

While waiting, the German soldier invited me to the hotel cafe, where several Bundeswehr soldiers were relaxing with beers, Red Bull, and cigarettes. They even offered me an espresso. Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help but find the situation oddly amusing. While waiting for the hotel to send the passport scan, I gathered more information about the German security posture and their operations in the region.

Eventually, the hotel sent the information, and I was escorted out. On the way, I made sure to retrieve my karambit from the guard, who looked slightly disappointed. As I left, I snapped a few more photos of the hotel and returned to my hotel, ending the night with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

This experience highlighted the strict security measures in place in the region, as well as the challenges faced by journalists and foreign visitors. While the encounter was unusual, it also provided a unique perspective on the complexities of working in a conflict zone.