American Heroes

by Oliver North

  Sgt. Leigh Ann Hester reads the information panels of the Global War on Terrorism (GWOT) exhibit at the Army Women's Museum at Fort Lee, Virginia. The exhibit showcases the contributions women have made in the GWOT and features a life-size diorama of the actions of Hester and her squad-mates during an ambush by insurgents near Baghdad.

  Maj. Megan McClung

  And that's what is happening across all of the armed services. Maj. Megan McClung is another example. When I first met Megan, she was a thirty-four-year-old Marine serving as a Public Affairs officer in Ramadi. She was cheerful and efficient as she helped us get the footage we needed for our broadcast, and I could tell that she was tough as nails. She'd graduated from the Naval Academy in 1995 and was slated to spend a year in Iraq overseeing public affairs for the 1st Brigade of the Army's 1st Armored Division.

  Soon after she left us that day, the awful news came that Megan had been killed by an IED in Ramadi. The date was December 6, 2004. Megan became the highest-ranking female to be killed in the global War on Terror.

  Like other women who have died in this war, Megan didn't go looking for combat, but it found her anyway. For better or for worse, women are finding themselves on the front lines. And like Molly Corbin, they are proving themselves capable and confident warriors.

  These women are American heroes. There is another group who deserve the title as well—the families of our service members who wait and pray at home.

  U.S. Army MAJ Jennifer Bailey reads a book to Iraqi girls during a humanitarian mission

  SSG Gina Gray holds newly born Zuher, whom she helped deliver during Operation Ivy Cyclone when paratroopers of 2nd Bn, 503d Infantry (Airborne) were searching the house and discovered the mother needed help

  WHEN DAD IS AT WAR

  U.S. Army SPC Adam Darrah holds his daughter for the first time after returning from a yearlong deployment in Iraq

  Maybe it's appropriate that Father's Day—a secular holiday supported by Calvin Coolidge in 1924 and officially designated as the third Sunday in June by Lyndon Johnson—is so close to Memorial Day. Both occasions have been observed with tens of thousands of dads absent from their children, serving in our armed forces far from home and often in harm's way. Some of those children and dads have never met face-to-face.

  Today, Marine Corps recruiting ads would have the uninitiated believe that the only thing that matters is being a "warrior." And while that is certainly a crucial ingredient in being a Marine, there is another aspect that pervades all of the military services today—concern for the families of those who are serving.

  While I was covering the 5th Marines in Iraq for Fox News, a sergeant major approached me after a live broadcast and asked if one of his young corporals could use my satellite phone to call home. "His wife gave birth last night," the grizzled veteran of two wars and many gunfights explained. "He wants to call so she and his new son can hear his voice." I handed him the phone.

  The young corporal's new son won't remember that phone call. But hopefully, in the midst of one of life's inevitable challenges, the Marine corporal and his wife will recall that all-too-brief conversation as evidence of a father's love for the son he wouldn't be able to hold for a while.

  That's always a challenge for those in our armed forces—reconciling the willingness to serve our country with the need to be a dad. Today, tens of thousands of soldiers, sailors, airmen, Guardsmen, and Marines who are fathers are serving overseas without their families. They serve in Iraq, Afghanistan, Korea, Japan, the Balkans, and at sea around the world, defending this country from the threat of terrorism and offering others the hope of freedom. Many, like that young corporal, will be working twenty-hour days and avoiding sniper fire when their child is born instead of handing out cigars and buying every stuffed animal in the hospital gift shop. For those fathers, the chance to hold their newborn will have to wait.

  When he visited the sailors on board the USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN 72) on May 1, 2003, President George W. Bush pointed out that while these sailors were at sea, back home their wives had given birth to 150 babies. Similar stories abounded at every port hosting a welcome-home ceremony. When the USS Reuben James (FFG 57) and the USS Paul Hamilton (DDG 60) returned to Pearl Harbor, eleven fathers had the opportunity to see their newborn children for the first time. At Naval Air Station North Island in Coronado, more than one hundred sailors disembarked the USS Constellation (CV-64) and met the new additions to their families.

  Understanding the importance of a father in a child's life, the military is trying to relieve some of the stress that families experience during long deployments. Programs like United Through Reading help fathers to serve both their country and their family. It may not replace the warm feeling of sitting on daddy's lap while he reads a bedtime story. But while on board ship, sailors can videotape themselves reading books to their children and ship the tapes home.

  For the U.S. troops in Iraq keeping the peace and restoring order for the Iraqi people, the hope is that their absence from home will only be temporary. For most of them it will be, but Iraq is still a dangerous place. Many young children—some of them not yet born—have lost their fathers during this war.

  As President Bush once said in a Memorial Day address at Arlington National Cemetery, "Americans like these did not fight for glory, but to fulfill a duty. They did not yearn to be heroes, they yearned to see mom and dad again and to hold their sweethearts and to watch their sons and daughters grow." These men are called heroes and rightfully so.

  But largely forgotten still are the many others who continue to sacrifice—the children left behind. Birthdays, ballet recitals, their first at-bat in a Little League game—these are just a few of the important events in a child's life that are performed or celebrated without the love and guidance from dad. Their sacrifice is the lonely home whose quiet night is pierced by the sound down the hall of Mom crying herself to sleep. In their teenage years, they go to the movies with their friends, only to see their dead father's courage mocked on the big screen by leftist producers and liberal actors. They struggle to save for college, trying to accomplish a goal they know would have made their father proud.

  Nothing replaces a daddy. But for those children whose fathers have given the ultimate sacrifice in service to this country, say a prayer that they will find peace in the knowledge that their hero dad pledged his life for a cause he believed in. And for the rest of us, in addition to honoring our heroes in uniform, may we always be thankful for the ones who waited—and wept—for daddy.

  A soldier embraces his children after returning from a fifteen-month deployment

  A crowd of family and friends give a boisterous welcome home to soldiers with an Army Reserve unit from Las Alamedos, California, as they arrive at Fort Carson, Colorado, after a year-long deployment to Iraq

  KEEPING IT TOGETHER AT HOME AND AT WAR

  "It's the simple things. Seeing your kids asleep when they don't know you are there. Coming home and playing in the front yard with all the neighborhood kids. Those are the things I miss the most."

  — Lt. Col. Bill Jurney, 2005, Ramadi, Iraq

  Lt. Col. Bill Jurney keeps tabs on the home front from Ramadi, Iraq

  Behind every military member, there's a loving family waiting, hoping, and praying for their return. Though often overlooked, these "heroes on the home front" are essential for the strength of our military as a whole and for the defense of this nation.

  For most American troops deployed in the fight against the terrorists, a day at war begins before dawn. After a quick clean-up and a bite to eat, these soldiers, sailors, airmen, Guardsmen, and Marines head out on patrols, humanitarian missions, or guard duty. Danger is a constant companion, but the source of their motivation is no secret—they hunt down the savages overseas in order to safeguard their loved ones at home.

  The routine for anxious military families back in the States might not require body armor and K
evlar helmets, but theirs is often a day that is nearly as challenging.

  Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, is home for Marine Lt. Col. Bill Jurney. When I met him, he was commanding the 1st Bn, 6th Marines, in Ramadi, Iraq. At the time Bill was well into his eighth long-term deployment as a Marine officer. He understands all too well the challenges that come with leaving a family behind. And while multiple deployments might help the Marines and their families get better at managing the time apart, it never gets easier.

  "I will say—without question—our families have the tougher mission," Bill declared. "By design, our team is put together, trained and equipped to accomplish the mission that's in front of us—as a team—and everybody has a role to play in supporting that mission. Our team at home was designed to have two individuals. And now that team only has one. We are not asking anybody to feel sorry for us for that. Most spouses of the United States Marines are pretty doggone strong-willed and independent. They have learned to adapt and live their lives and raise our families in our absence."

  Lt. Col. Bill Jurney's wife Sue and their children Madison and Troy, on the front steps of their home near Camp Lejeune, N.C.

  Back at home at Camp Lejeune, Bill's wife Sue agrees. "It's not just a job, it's a lifestyle. And it affects everybody in your family."

  After eighteen years of being married to a Marine, Sue is no stranger to the hardships that come with the territory. That experience is vital as she volunteers her time supporting the other Marine families in the battalion. It's her way of assisting the war effort.

  "Military spouses are sacrificing every day," she says. "The way they handle things at home is very important to the mission. Because if the guys over there are concerned and worried about how things are going at home, then they can't stay focused on their mission in Iraq."

  Another of those wives is Jen White. She met her husband, Jody, when he was sacking quarterbacks as a linebacker for the University of Cincinnati. When I met them, he was a captain, leading the two hundred men of Charlie Company, 1st Bn, 6th Marines. During Jody's six deployments, Jen has paid the bills, kept the vehicles running, and kept their five children busy with school, sports, and other activities. And her husband is the first to admit she has the more challenging job: "If I had all five of my kids, she'd probably come home and the house would be leveled."

  Sometimes the hardest part isn't the deployment itself, but the questions that come from the kids as Daddy is preparing to leave—again. Jennifer says, "Our oldest son had some really hard questions. He wanted to know about Daddy dying and what will happen, what will happen to us. That was a shocker for me."

  Unfortunately, the media isn't making that job any easier. Lt. Col. Jurney brought it up in our interview in Ramadi: "You have embedded reporters who come with us. When they see something that is moving forward or progress, that'll be the last thing you'll ever see them print or talk about. Often times, I think [the families back home] typically only hear those negative aspects of what's moving forward, of some reporter who is embellishing and playing up to improve his ratings. And unfortunately, there are families who suffer the consequences of those actions. I don't think they get a balanced view."

  For this reason, most of the families I spoke with say they do their best not to listen to the mainstream media. One young mother told me, "You try to avoid the news . . . I wait to hear from Mike because I know he's the one who will tell me what's going on."

  Capt. White says that after six deployments, he's come to realize that his wife's ability to carry on in his absence makes his job easier. "She's been able to handle everything the Marine Corps has thrown at her."

  Sue Jurney agrees. "When you think of a Marine, you think of tough and strong and courageous, the best of the best; and all those words could describe the corps of Marine wives."

  "The advent of instant communications has made the deployment process much different . . . but—in many ways—it is harder. Megan and I 'chatted' almost nightly as she started her day and I finished mine. My last communications with her was just . . . after she had met you. That night . . . I went back to the computer to see if she would be ready to 'chat,' but I knew it wouldn't happen."

  — Michael McClung, father of Maj. Megan McClung, writing to the author about the sadness that instant communication brought when his daughter was killed in Iraq

  E-MAIL CUTS THE TIME BUT CAN'T CLOSE THE DISTANCE

  Loneliness is one of those unseen enemies that assault every military man or woman deployed far from home. And as long as there have been armies, there have been loved ones left behind who worried and waited for the troops to return.

  In World War II, American soldiers left their home country and their loved ones often for years. Communications being what they were, phone calls home were almost unheard of. Many a fighting man went months without receiving any word from home, and a letter back to the States often arrived with portions marked out by military censors. In 1943, the military instituted V-mail, an innovative form of communication designed to make the mail service more efficient. Letters were scanned to microfiche after censoring, then shipped to the States by air and reprinted before delivery. This was instituted to save space on military shipping, but also to cut the delivery time from months to weeks.

  Then, as now, the military understood the impact that communications with the home front have on unit and individual morale. This is what the generals at the Pentagon like to call a "force multiplier," which means that one warrior whose spirits are high is more effective than two who are lonely and depressed.

  With this in mind, e-mail and call centers are high on the priority list, once a forward operating base is created. These days, it's not just that e-mail is faster than a postcard sent by boat or air mail; the quality of communications has increased exponentially. Most bases have Internet call centers where deployed personnel can chat via webcam with loved ones back home. Personal satellite phones, while still relatively expensive, allow many of our fighting men and women to participate in important moments that they would otherwise miss.

  These advances are some of the most appreciated aspects of life in today's military. E-mail and other technologies offer big advantages over the communication channels used by their fathers and grandfathers. But today's troops know that though technology may cut the time, it will never quite close the gap. There hasn't been a program yet written that will allow a soldier to hug his wife or hold his baby girl over the Internet. Until it does, loneliness will continue to be an unwelcome companion to our men and women in uniform.

  Internet terminals on most bases in Iraq and Afghanistan allow soldiers to stay connected with home

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  GETTING IT DONE!

  "A lot of us didn't believe at first that [the enemy] meant what they said when they vowed out loud that they would rule the world—including us. But little by little, and then a lot faster, they started showing us that unless we fought back, they would be in our own back yard. These enemies did their worst to [other countries, then] . . . they started on us. Suddenly, Americans in Omaha and Dallas and Chicago, deep inside our borders, realized that no place on earth is more than 60 hours flying time from any other. America's freedom was attacked.

  That's why we're in this war. That's why you're in this army.

  There will be no security, no safety, no freedom for any of us until we have won this war. Every one of us wants to get home, but we won't stop fighting until, this time, the victory has been completely won. When that glad day comes, you'll know you did your share.

  Go on now, soldier; put up a good fight. It will be worth it all when it's all been done."

  — Excerpted from War Department Pamphlet 21-13, 10 August 1944.

  Given to soldiers headed overseas in World War II

  In August 1944, two months after the landings at Normandy, Allied troops were "bogged down" in the hedge rows of western France. In the P
acific, the Japanese were inflicting a terrible toll on U.S. soldiers, sailors, and Marines as they "island hopped" toward Tokyo.

  To counter the war weariness of the American people—and the uncertainty of U.S. troops headed overseas—the War Department published "Army Life." This was a pamphlet containing the exhortation quoted on the previous page. The words are remarkably applicable to the situation today.

  We Americans are an impatient lot. We require movies on demand, fast food from drive-through windows, express oil changes, rapid air travel, and high-speed Internet service. "Just-in-time" deliveries have become the norm in manufacturing. When we want it, we want it now.

  Our eagerness for instant results has served as a stimulus to the U.S. economy, inspired scientific progress, and promoted extraordinary advances in technology. We now build homes and commercial structures in days and weeks that used to take months or years.

  But when it comes to defeating a suicidal adversary on the battlefield and constructing institutions of democracy in a once-brutalized country—as we had to do in Europe and Japan, and are now doing in Iraq and Afghanistan—the desire for immediate outcomes is a vice rather than a virtue. That was the case with our own radical experiment in representative government. More than eleven years passed between the Declaration of Independence and the ratification of the U.S. Constitution. Japan didn't get back on its feet for seven years after surrendering in World War II. It's good to remember such things when thinking about the situation in Iraq and Afghanistan.