By Larry Johnson
t r u t h o u t | Perspective
" We must also accept that Americans as a whole share responsibility for
the actions of these soldiers. We sent them to war. We put them square in
the middle of the battle. We cannot simply sit idly on the sidelines
clucking our tongues over the awful thing that was done. We are complicit."
Saturday 03 June 2006
A sandstorm was swirling across the tarmac of a US military airfield in
Qatar last week. The only thing better then getting pelted in the kisser
with tiny grains of sand that pepper your face at 50 miles per hour is the
120-plus degree heat. You know the expression, "it's a dry heat." Yeah, well
so is a Texas barbecue pit. Qatar, at least in terms of heat and dust, is
the starting point of hell. How people live in an environment like this is
beyond comprehension, but they do.
I came to Qatar on my way to Iraq. I was among the first to board a New
Jersey National Guard C-130 that was revving its engines in preparation to
take us north. Another lesson learned - be the last to board, not the first.
The C-130 is an old workhorse of an aircraft. It was introduced into the Air
Force in 1954, one year before I was born. One of its great features, apart
from being able to haul stuff into tough areas, is the tail ramp that allows
soldiers or vehicles (or both) to be easily loaded and off-loaded.
Anyway, I move to the front of the cargo/passenger section. Two rows of
seats, one on the right side of the plane and one on the left side of the
plane, run the length of the aircraft from the bulkhead to the tail. You sit
in a piece of canvas and cargo net. You either face the side of the plane or
you are against the outside skin looking at the middle. You are up close and
personal with the people on either side and, of course, knee knocking with
the gal or fellow across from you.
Once on board, you sit sweating and waiting. Any benefit from the shade
of the aircraft is quickly eliminated by the proximity of other profusely
sweating bodies. My group, about 15 folks, settled into our seats. Another
bus pulled up and disgorged a platoon of Marines. Fully kitted in their
combat gear - body armor, weapons, helmet, and uniform - they were really
hot but managed not to sweat so much. I think it had something to do with
their youth. Kids under twenty five don't sweat as much as a fat bastard who
is over fifty.
The Marine unit had at least four women. Each one lugging the same
equipment load as their male counterparts. They were heading to Western
Iraq, the vicinity of the now infamous Haditha.
As the plane engines cranked louder, crew members circulated passing out
foam ear plugs. You don't want to be deaf before you get into combat.
Anticipating this contingency, I pulled out the Sonic II ear plugs I
acquired and used during CIA training at Camp Peary in 1986. They still
worked. While I was jamming the plugs into my ears, it suddenly dawned on me
that the damn ear plugs were older than many of the Marines on my flight.
The takeoff from Qatar was uneventful. Once we got altitude, the heat
let up. The landing in a combat zone is another matter. If you like a roller
coaster you would love the combat landing in a C-130 Hercules. I never knew
an old propeller aircraft could pull Gs. Another lesson learned.
As the Marines began to disembark, I asked a couple of the baby-faced
boys if this was their first trip in. "No sir, it is our second." And for
some, it marked their third trip to the sandbox. For being so young, they
were, appropriately so, very serious and professional.
One note for non-military folks about personal hygiene side onboard the
C-130 (this is like astronauts, how they pee in space). When the plane was
designed, the creators did not anticipate that men and women would share the
same space. If you need to take a piss (if you're a guy, that is) you can go
up to the bulkhead and relieve yourself into a small urinal attached to the
wall. There is no door or curtain. Women, on the other hand, have to troop
back to a throne located near the exit ramp. The toilet basin, which is
attached to the side of the aircraft, has a shower curtain arrangement. If
nature calls, you climb up, pull the curtain around you, and do your
business. Of course your head is poking above the curtain. You look like
someone is a school carnival dunking booth, only your pants are around your
ankles. I'm happy to report that after more than three hours on the plane no
one had to use the facilities.
As we keep sending our sons and daughters into the teeth of the
insurgency in Iraq, we are discovering that we have forgotten the horror of
fighting an insurgency. When tight knit units, like these Marines, lose
friends and colleagues, they normally are not thinking like philosopher
warriors. The Marines train these kids to kill (and well they should). They
are not trained to operate as police officers. Entirely different rules of
engagement.
Insurgents don't play fair either. They do not show up in clearly marked
uniforms. They look like civilians and hide in the midst of populations.
Sometimes the locals are witting and supportive and sometimes they are
coerced. Both situations currently exist in Iraq.
I do not know who is personally responsible for the killings at Haditha,
but it certainly appears that some Marines lost control and are probably
guilty of manslaughter. Fortunately, this has not been a common event. But
that offers small comfort. In the war for the hearts and minds of the Iraqis
we do not have the luxury for any mistakes like this.
We must also accept that Americans as a whole share some responsibility
for the actions of these soldiers. We sent them to war. We put them square
in the middle of the battle. We cannot simply sit idly on the sidelines
clucking our tongues over the awful thing that was done. We are complicit.
If we think we can deal with this by simply "punishing" the guilty and move
happily on with the rest of our lives, then we have ignored our societal
obligation to the soldiers we ask to go to war to fight on our behalf. If
young Marines have murdered Iraqi civilians who were simply in the wrong
place at the wrong time, then they must be held accountable. But, in
punishing them, we must remember that we still have an obligation to these
soldiers. Leaders we selected put sent these young men and women to war (and
yes, I realize Al Gore probably won the election). We have an obligation to
help make them whole and return them emotionally intact to civil society.
We face a terrible dilemma in Iraq. At present, we keep most of our
military forces on secure bases. They have little interaction with the local
Iraqis except during combat operations and patrols. Unlike the Vietnam War,
during which US soldiers slept, ate, and partied with Vietnamese (at times,
to our detriment and theirs), our soldiers are not building the
relationships with the Iraqi people that will result in marriages and new
restaurants in the United States. Go to Fort Bragg in North Carolina and the
Vietnamese and Thai eating establishments are one of the Vietnam War's
lasting legacies.
I firmly believe that our sons and daughters in uniform can be our best
Ambassadors. But I am afraid that things are so far gone now in Iraq that
this possibility for American diplomacy is dead. I understand that the
Commanders of these young Americans are not keen to lower the security
barriers that protect our soldiers. The Generals and Colonels do not have
the stomach to put them at needless risk. I also recognize that putting more
of our forces into the communities will lead to more casualties, at least in
the short term. But, we must also recognize that if our soldiers are not
able to socialize with the Iraqis then we should not be surprised that they
view us as an alien, enemy force. Despite some early successes by US troops
in this regard in 2003, the community outreach is a rare event and new
opportunities are slipping away.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
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