Today we had a reception at work for one of our own (one of our own coworkers, that is) who is being deployed. All the way deployed, to Iraq. All the way deployed, to join his combat engineer battalion in the unenviable task of clearing roadways of IEDs. His beautiful wife and their two elementary school age sons joined him at work for this little shindig (we all donated money to give them a weekend away somewhere, and weirdly, spending money for the kids). If I imagine Jim breaking the news to me that he’s going to be going away for a while, a long while, and I’ll have to stay home with the baby and attempt to keep it all together while he puts himself squarely in the way of lethal harm, my imagined response is something like “The hell you say.” (I got all single mother huffy yesterday when I had to cook dinner and care for Naomi, while he was out mowing the lawn and talking the rescue rooter guy through his exploration of our roof drains, for pete’s sake.)
I know it’s no picnic being an Iraqi these days. But I also thought being both anti-war and supportive of the troops wasn’t completely impossible. This send-off party got me thinking, though, that it would not be so easy to look a soldier and his wife and children in the eyes and say, This is a mad, massive boondoggle you’re off to. I wish you luck surviving in that crazy mess we made for you. When I thought about what I would say if I had to say something to this man (I didn’t, thankfully), it didn’t seem sufficient to say, honestly, that I wished him well, and the best of luck. I found myself thinking all those corny untruths that people inevitably bring out in support of the troops.
I guess what I am saying is that it’s pretty easy to understand the “defending the American way of life” nonsense that people are always saying on the news (and by people, I mean the loved ones of soldiers who are caught up in or taken away by this particular fight), because it would take a whole different, dark kind of courage to say to your loved one, “You are risking your life for something wrong. You are leaving me here to go off to a reckless, unjustified conflict. What you are doing doesn’t make any sense.”
1 comment:
I attended a going-away party for a young woman (26) being deployed to Iraq. After the traditional collection for the going away gift, it was revealed that her gift would be her own set of body armor. Apparently the army wouldn't be issuing her any armor because she is in a position classified as non-combat. A going-away party is not quite the same when instead of a picture frame or gold watch, the gift is something that could save your life, but which your country doesn't think you really need.
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