by Larry Minear
Interviews also recount a number of incidents involving abusive attitudes toward homosexuals and racial minorities. As noted earlier, the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy deprived it of the services of numerous American interpreters, already in short supply and by all accounts essential to the successful conduct of military operations. As with women, however, stereotypes were often altered as a result of performance under shared duress. Navy Photographer’s Mate 3rd Class Maria Zambrana noted a significant difference in attitudes toward women between her two tours in Iraq. In the first, she felt, there was little sense of cohesion. In the second, women were “so much more integrated into the total operation.”49
In the view of one acknowledged gay, Captain Hill, “the vast majority” of people in the Army “really didn’t seem to care one way or the other. I’d run into people every now and then that would say something that would betray an animosity, but those people can be found anywhere and everywhere and are a not unique to the army.” He found it mind-boggling that “an army which preaches so hard and so long and so forcefully on the importance of racial integration would completely ignore it when it comes to another characteristic that for some reason doesn’t fit their idea of what diversity is.”50
Navy Sgt. Cristina Frisby, an Army tow truck driver who took the photograph shown in this chapter, found people in her unit generally accepting of her sexual preference. But being a lesbian in the ranks was stressful. She felt lonely and isolated; only a few close friends were aware of her sexuality. “I didn’t want to create problems or violate policy,” she says. While she was deployed, her partner back in the States terminated their relationship and a close friend, who returned to Iraq for a second tour without having been screened for problems following her first, took her own life. The face-sheet on Frisby’s VHP collection notes, “Veteran received discharge papers and was not recommended for future commission because of prior homosexual experience.” For both Hill and Frisby, however, their high levels of commitment to the military and their professional approach to their tasks outweighed their distaste for the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.
Interviews of black veterans did not bring to light specific incidents of perceived discrimination on grounds of race. However, a number of interviews of white service members convey negative stereotypes. One veteran comments on how attending boot camp in the South involved first-time and unsettling contacts with non-whites; another referred to blacks as niggers. In broader compass, Pentagon officials acknowledged a general trend toward the “rejection of military service as an option of young blacks throughout the country” during the global war on terror years. However, this development may have had a variety of causes, including the existence of economic opportunities for blacks outside the military, rather than simply discomfort with the treatment of African Americans already in the ranks.51 The lament of a Native American from Arizona about the insensitivity of the Texas Guard unit to which he was assigned has also been mentioned. More positive in terms of the diversity of the armed forces was the substantial presence within the ranks of non-U.S. citizens. One historian of the Vietnam War observed that the barracks photograph in Chapter 8 conveys a demography that contrasts sharply with the makeup of U.S. units in Vietnam.
In identifying such issues as sexism, homophobia, and racism, veterans are not simply flagging the shortcomings of the military as an institution. They are also calling attention to unfinished business of society as a whole, reflected in the composition and practices of the armed forces. In this sense, the Global War on Terror may prove to be of a piece with other American wars. World War II offers perhaps the best example of how, in fighting for the country’s ideals, soldiers turn the spotlight on American institutions, military and civilian alike, whose blemishes thus appear in more stark relief.
Comments by President Obama in his January 2010 State of the Union address, views that were reinforced in February by senior U.S. military leaders, committed the administration to reverse the prevailing “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy regarding gays and lesbians in the military.53 While many commentators drew parallels between the impacts of World War II and the global war on terror on the treatment of minorities, some observed a significant difference. Unlike the Truman decision to integrate the military, which came at a time when U.S. public opinion nationwide did not support racial equality, public opinion today arguably leads military policy in attitudes toward homosexuality.
WIDER RIPPLES
Discussions among veterans on the links between these wars and earlier conflicts mirror a much wider debate involving policymakers and independent analysts. Bush administration officials and members of Congress have tended to emphasize the uniqueness of the global war and the resulting need to develop new approaches to combat a more devious and elusive enemy. Practices such as the abusive treatment of detainees in theater and at Guantanamo Bay, rendition, the perceived nonapplicability of traditionally accepted international laws of war, and the domestic wiretapping of U.S. citizens are presented and justified as new strategies and tactics necessary to counteract the unprecedented and insidious nature of post-9/11 threats to national security.
Some independent analysts have also underscored the novelty of the challenges to which the global war on terror responds. “September 11 left nearly five times as many Americans dead as all terrorist incidents of the previous three decades combined,” wrote Strobe Talbott and Nayan Chanda in their edited volume, The Age of Terror: America and the World after September 11. “The carnage was … about double what three hundred Japanese bombers left in their wake at Pearl Harbor. Commentators instantly evoked that other bolt-from-the-blue raid, sixty years before, as the closest thing to a precedent. But there was really none. This was something new under the sun.”53
Other analysts have underscored the continuities between the current threats to U.S. national security and earlier challenges. Louise Richardson rejects the view that “we inhabit an entirely new world in which the experience of other countries has no relevance, our national security doctrine is irrelevant, and our protections of civil liberties are unaffordable.” She concludes a lengthy review of the issues in What Terrorists Want: Understanding the Enemy, Containing the Threat with the observation, “It is not quite true … that, in the words of President Bush, ‘September 11 changed our world.’ Rather it was our reaction to September 11 that changed the world.”54
Similarly, studies at Tufts University with which the author has been associated have underscored continuities across a series of ostensibly very different conflicts in the post-Cold War era. Examining settings such as Afghanistan, Iraq, Colombia, the Sudan, the Occupied Palestinian Territory, Sri Lanka, and Nepal, our research has concluded that the challenges faced by humanitarian organizations in maintaining access to people in need and in protecting their independence of action from politicization have been remarkably constant. Our studies suggest that in a fundamental sense, “no crisis is unique. As long as every crisis is perceived as wholly without precedent or parallel, there will be little scope for institutional learning.”55
Early in the Obama administration, an approach was beginning to take shape that differed from the one that offered the Global War on Terror as the overarching response to threats to U.S. national security. While details had yet to crystallize, the alternative was clear and the implications far reaching. “As for our common defense,” said the new president in his inaugural address, “we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our founding fathers, faced with perils that we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience’s sake.”56
Beyond the individual discontinuities and continuities identified, the commentary provided by veterans from Afghanistan and Iraq underscores the archetypal experiences of soldiering across the history of American wars. For all of the variations in part
iculars, these experiences involve recurring elements: uprooting from family and community pursuits, baptism by immersion into withering conflict, solidarity among those thus exposed, testing of principles and instincts by the unfamiliar and unknown, stresses of reentry, and challenges of fashioning a “new normal” after each particular conflict.
The observation made by Commander Kirk in the context of his own conversations with World War II veterans is particularly telling. Expressing the view that the similarities among conflicts outweigh the evident differences among them, he remarks that across the span of American wars, “The main similarity is that when you wear the uniform, it changes you. It’s a statement that the success of the United States is your personal responsibility and that in some very basic way you are OK with losing your life if it is in defense of that country. It completely sets you apart from everyone else in the level of commitment that you’ve decided to make.”57
The military service of veterans of the Afghanistan and Iraq conflicts provides them with an instructive perspective on earlier American wars. The importance of listening to their voices is the subject of the final chapter.
TWELVE
Listening to Veterans
One of the final questions in the Veterans History Project’s field kit asks soldiers to reflect on the lessons they have learned from Afghanistan and Iraq and the wider meaning of their experience for their lives. Interviewers from the University of Arkansas participating in the VHP exercise conclude their own series of interviews with two additional queries: “Why do you think it is important for vets to share their stories?” and “How would you like to be remembered as a veteran of war?” Even veterans not specifically asked these questions have views on these matters to share.
WHAT ARE THEY SAYING?
From the experience of the two hundred-plus veterans consulted for this book, a number of themes emerge. First, veterans take an evident pride in having answered their country’s call and in having done what was asked of them. Military service, said Marine SSgt. Brendon Bass of his time in Iraq, “really made me grow up and have a complete understanding of what the people before had gone through. My family fought in every war and I am proud to have fought for my country and continued that tradition.” He took particular satisfaction in having proved himself to his father, who had said he would never amount to anything.1
Some began their tours with reservations about the U.S. undertakings in Afghanistan and particularly in Iraq but eventually became persuaded of the importance of what the United States was trying to do. Some whose trajectories took the opposite direction—from initial support for the missions to eventual cynicism about the results—nevertheless took pride in having done their part.
The challenges of serving in Afghanistan and Iraq took veterans on highly personal voyages of discovery. Johnny Torres, a corporal in an Army Ranger regiment, welcomed the discipline instilled during training and implemented in theater. “The training experience is tough and teaches you a lot about yourself.” His time in the military “taught me a lot about life.” In fact, he found himself wishing that he had enlisted a year earlier to reap the benefits of his new-found maturity sooner.2
Pictured in his battle gear elsewhere in the book, SSgt. Blake C. Cole, a troubled youngster and one of five children raised by a single mother, learned in boot camp “the proper mentality for combat” and went on to distinguish himself as a scout sniper platoon chief with the Marines in Fallujah. Despite the hardships involved for himself and his family, he sees the dividends as “huge” and is enrolled in courses that will enable him to make the Marines a lifelong career. His awards include the Iraqi Campaign Medal, the Global War on Terror Expeditionary Medal, the Global War on Terror Service Medal, and a Purple Heart.3
For all of the inconveniences and dangers encountered—one veteran counted twenty-six moves that his family had made in thirty-two years4—most of those interviewed, irrespective of their particular assignments and challenges, do not consider themselves heroes. “You’re not there to be a hero,” observed Army Sgt. E-5 Nicole Ferretti. “You’re there to help the two people—the one in front of you and the one behind you.”5 In fact, relatively few were overjoyed to be deployed. Navy Third Class Petty Officer Philip Thomas Jr., who served on active duty for four years, concluded that few of his cohorts were happy to have been shipped out to Iraq. “At least 80 percent,” he estimated, “were reluctant to be on his ship or in Iraq.”6 Happy or otherwise, however, most sought to make the best of a difficult situation and succeeded in doing so.
The pride most veterans express is in the performance of their colleagues and themselves rather than in the recognition they receive from others. The medals mentioned in response to an interviewer’s question or brought along to interviews are often something of an embarrassment. “I didn’t do anything spectacular,” said Army 2nd Class Petty Officer Eric Heath. “‘You know,’ my dad said, ‘You’re a part of something that not many people get to say they’re a part of. You did stuff that most people won’t do for their country.’ I don’t see it as that. I did my job to the best of my ability. If someone was to look at this, I would like them to say, ‘It’s people like me and other people who sacrifice even more that paved the way for future things.’”7
“I’m just some guy that did his job,” says Army Reserve Spec. Christopher Gamblin. “I don’t think it’s anything special. There’s a lot of veterans from previous wars that we’ve had who did a lot more, and they went through a lot harder times than we did.”8 Army SSgt. Bradley Burd had a somewhat different take. “Anybody over there,” in his estimation, “is performing some form of heroism just by being there.”9 “The real heroes,” says Army Spec. Gonzalo Gonzalez, “are the ones at home praying for us, watching out for everything. Those are my heroes.”10
Many veterans return to the States with a new appreciation of family, country, freedoms, and life itself. “Seeing how others live makes you appreciate what you have back home,” says Air Force Sgt. 1st Class David Brown in a comment repeated by many others.11 As noted earlier, many veterans upon returning become more involved than they had been in civic affairs, serving on town committees, participating in veterans’ organizations and holiday celebrations, and even running for elective office. Life is precious, they say with a single voice, and needs to be savored and cherished each day.
“Some people say I don’t get as upset or excited about things as before,” mused Col. William Andrews, who was shot down and captured during Operation Desert Storm. “”Some things seem smaller than they might have before the war. You know, you’re not sure if you’re ever going to come home.”12 “Going away and having the possibility of dying on a daily basis changes you, and makes you realize what life is really about,” said Ferretti.13
Many develop a new respect for the military service of earlier generations. “After watching the war in Band of Brothers,” said Army Lt. Col. Maria Cochran on her return from the Middle East, “I wish I knew more about my uncle in the Navy in the Second World War in the Pacific. I wish I knew them, but they’re gone now. I don’t think my story is all that unique or special, but I think collectively there is such a unique American experience captured in these stories. I think it ain’t about me. It’s about the service. It’s about the American experience. Get as many of these stories as you can,” she urged her interviewer.14 “I think it is important to have some record of the war,” concurs Army Spec. Nicholas Fosholdt, a reservist with an engineering company in Iraq. Some of the events have lost their sharpness even in his own memory, he concedes. Even more so, he says, the World War II experience is in danger of being lost as veterans age and die.15
For all the positive aspects of their tours, many veterans were—and are—troubled by particular aspects of the experience. One has decided not to share his photographs from Iraq with his children until they are older and better able to understand. Others specify that while their experiences may be shared with readers, they themselves are to remain anonymous.
Those who say, “I don’t regret anything that I’ve done” in the line of duty are perhaps exceptions. However, such a categorical statement may be giving a broad assessment of the overall experience rather than an imprimatur on each specific action.
The ambivalence that many veterans feel often emerges from discussions about whether they would like their own children to follow them into the military. Few respond enthusiastically in the affirmative. Some equivocate; others express reservations. Army Lt. Col. Jude Ferran, a career professional with children ages eleven, nine, and six at the time of his interview, said that “America is a great country and it is the responsibility of its citizens to give back,” whether through the military or in other ways. “I wouldn’t discourage them from military service,” he said, “but I would want to make sure they understand and choose with their eyes open.”16
“I’m a firm believer that everybody—every young man and woman—ought to serve their country in some capacity, in some way, shape or form, at a minimum to do something to help humanity,” says Army Lt. Col. Gregory Marinich. “I felt that the army provided me with a lot of possibilities in terms of serving not only country but others.”17 “The army is not for everybody,” said Capt. Lynn Wagner. “There are other ways to do your duty.”18 After fifteen years in the military and two deployments to Iraq, SSgt. Shawn Stenberg is not anxious to have family and friends follow in his footsteps. While he identifies positive elements from his years in the Army, he thinks the Coast Guard might be a safer bet for his son.19