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A generation transformed
TWENTY-NINE PALMS, California I have a friend who recently commanded a Marine infantry company in Ramadi, in central Iraq. Captain John Maloney spent four months in the most dangerous city in Iraq, and his story needs to be heard because he is representative of a class of Americans whose lives are rarely depicted in the press. A new fighting American is forming on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan. Every day, more than 100,000 of them face challenges that will define their lives, and their country, for decades to come.When I called John last month, he was minutes away from departing on a combat patrol. Patrolling is one of the most basic operations in Iraq, but also one of the most dangerous. Small groups of soldiers or marines will walk a route through a city looking for anything unusual and "showing the flag." At times it feels like you are walking around waiting for an improvised explosive device, or IED, to detonate, just so you can react to the event. Other times, I have been almost overwhelmed by the sense that my head or chest may be in the crosshairs of a sniper's rifle. Patrolling is slow, dangerous and difficult work. Most units in the U.S. military have by now been to Iraq, and like my friend John, their veterans' psyches are being seared by the constant exposure to the danger and stress they face. Yet they still patrol. They persevere. In my infantry company, which returned from the Syrian border last September, men are re-enlisting in robust numbers. I had 12 men step forward and volunteer to fill nine slots for another four years. We took all 12. The other companies in my rifle battalion had similar success. These men (and in non-infantry battalions, women too) will go back to Iraq and patrol again, day in and day out. These young Americans are being redefined. For John, as for all our service members, the definition of a "normal" life has been changed in a way that's almost impossible for others to comprehend. The implications for America are profound. In four months spent last year near Iraq's border with Syria, I was exposed to the full gamut of emotions and experiences typical of any modern combat tour. I saw corrupt, wicked men captured or killed by 19-year-old Americans who possessed maturity in applying different levels of force that left me in awe. Eleven years ago when I was their age, I wouldn't have held a candle to our 19 year-olds of today. On patrol last year, I saw one old friend and 17 new ones killed by sniper's bullets, exploding artillery shells or hidden land mines. I grieved in the desert and saw 900 comrades do the same. Then I saw our marines lock their grief and rage behind a mental door and go back out the gate to patrol again. On those very next patrols, I saw looks of utter joy in the eyes of Iraqi children when I'd hand them a soccer ball, or when one of my marines would mimic a salute at a child pretending to be an Iraqi Patton or Schwarzkopf. Through it all, our countrymen have been imprinted with a new perspective on life. Much like the returning veterans of World War II, they stepped off the plane with a sense of how petty or unimportant many of the seemingly pressing issues covered in the news media truly are. Compared to the shock of the instant, violent death of a squad-mate standing right next to me, or the excitement of a child looking at my uniform, the constant barrage of partisan politics, runaway brides and the activities of Paris Hilton seem utterly devoid of importance. I have marines slowly recuperating at hospitals in San Francisco, Washington, Bethesda and San Diego. Who is telling their stories? To be honest, I just want to go back to Iraq. It's where I understand the world now. It's where I find perspective. It's where I make a difference every day. For all the mistakes in planning that have been made in this war, and all the acts of heroism that have (or more often have not) been reported, this war is transforming young Americans. We are forming a new "greatest generation" that will counteract the obsession with one's self that has characterized the last few decades. On June 16, five days after I last spoke to him, John Maloney was killed. He was 36, and he came from Chickopee, Massachusetts. John was leading his rifle company on patrol in southern Ramadi when an IED detonated near his Humvee. He died instantly. Even in a service that values its reputation as America's elite, Maloney was an icon. It would take a book to do justice to his impact on the Corps over 18 years of service. Now he's gone, like almost 2,000 others. The day after he was killed, John's marines were out on patrol again. In six weeks, my rifle company will deploy again, this time to Ramadi. We will replace the company formerly commanded by Captain Maloney. We will patrol the city for seven months and train Iraqi security forces and then come home, God willing, with every man in one piece. But even without any scratches, my 19-year-old men will never be the same. Gone will be the self-absorbed, pleasure-focused children raised on video games. Instead, they will humbly want to serve society and make the world a better place. If the policy makers and politicians choose the right path, if they spend our lives wisely, this global war on terror will be a Normandy, and not a Vietnam. Through the actions of our service members and the sacrifices of our Maloneys, we are transforming Iraq. As we return home, we are also transforming the face of America. (Rory B. Quinn is a captain in the U.S. Marine Corps.) Posted by: Steve White 2005-08-05 |
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