A friend of mine asked me what I was thinking on that day, when colors were cased and ceremonies were held to mark the end of a tumultuous period in the history of our nation and military.
I told her it felt pretty hollow, but not so much because I was expecting a parade or a lot of fanfare, but that it just felt that after approximately 4,500 US deaths and arguably 100K Iraqi deaths, it seemed as though we are simply slipping away with a whimper. I figured it would come to this, a moment when we finally achieved a decent interval, but I wonder if it is an interval after all.
We are ending the ground-based military aspect of this venture, but I still wonder how we are going to manage the delicate commitment we need towards the future of Iraq as a stable regional power. I am not convinced that the pillars of our state power understand how to handle the responsibility. I'm skeptical that we fully understand that responsibility in the first place.
I have an interesting perspective on Iraq, as my company delivered probably the first direct fire into Iraq from the Marine sector in March 2003. We destroyed what turned out to be unmanned border posts in the process, but sitting arrayed against the berm on the first night of the onslaught on the border, and watching RAP rounds arc overhead as counter-battery fire responded to indirect fire shot at us, gave me a full appreciation for the scale of firepower we could deliver.
Gunnery Sergeant Jeffrey Bohr, who had been my first platoon guide--and had a bronze star on the parachutist badge he earned as a Ranger--as a sergeant during my enlisted days in Security Forces, was killed during the 1st Bn 5th Marines attack into Baghdad as the noose tightened on the city.
Fast forward to 2004, when I was an assistant operations officer for the same battalion I served in during the invasion, and I found myself tucked away in a command and control variant light armored vehicle, careening down Route Michigan towards the 'Shark's Fin' peninsula adjacent to Fallujah. I saw other incredible displays of our ability to mass firepower, but I had also established a measured respect for daisy-chained 155mm artillery round IEDs and the terror factor of the 107mm rocket, and an even greater respect for how the insurgency was growing around us at an alarming rate. By that time, folks were already at a point where they were more than happy to be heading home by the end of their tour, alive and with all their limbs intact. I was relieved to be heading home at the end of my stay, a bit guilty that our first allies in that era (e.g the Shewani Specialized Special Forces) were forced to face a very uncertain future, and a bit confused what our strategy was at that hour.
Almost a year to the day that 3d LAR attacked to clear the Shark's Fin, one of my closest friends from my days as a lieutenant at The Basic School, Major Ray Mendoza, triggered a pressure plate on a berm overlooking Ubaydi that killed him instantly. Wikipedia's reference to Operation STEEL CURTAIN calls it a U.S. tactical victory. Ray left behind a wife, daughter, and son who looks exactly like him, but with curly locks of hair and a slightly more charming smile.
Wind the tape further forward, and after three years inspecting-instructing a Reserve LAR company, I was back in Iraq as a LAR Bn executive officer. We started out at the bastion of LAR operations, Korean Village, and were scheduled to be tasked with the basic routine of securing the lines of communication running into Syria and Jordan, and securing the population of Ar Rutbah while supporting the Iraqi Security Forces posted there. That mission shifted quickly and I spent the winter living an expeditionary existence at the base of Sinjar Mt in Ninevah Province, chasing an elusive character named Ali Jamil Hamdin who seemed to delight in terrorizing the locals and police at night, and keeping an eye on Yezedi smugglers who chucked bundles of cigarettes into Syria from the backs of horses in the still of night.
On Thanksgiving 2008, Captain Frank Warren, an ANGLICO officer on detail to a food drop in Bi'aj, was shot and killed at point blank range, along with an Army Master sergeant, by a turncoat Iraqi Army jundi. He left behind a wife and two daughters, and people who remember him on memorial pages can be quoted as saying he wanted to make a difference in the world. I wonder if the difference he made will be a lasting one.
Considering what has been mentioned in the wake of these subdued ceremonies you watched this week sir, I wonder what the future holds for Iraq. I am afraid that the fractured Iraq I predicted, in posts long ago archived, still looms on the horizon. Our nation is just so glad, in that exhausted sort of way when the marathon comes to a close, to be done with Iraq that I am not really surprised it ends with a whimper. Our pets whimper when they are in pain, and we have endured pain for a long, long time, so a whimper seems fitting.
My friend implored me to not lose sight of the fact that there are indeed people who are rejoicing the end of the mission in Iraq, and they are happy to see us close the door and come home. I have a thought or two about the answer, but I wonder what the Iraqis who stood beside us think. Those brave men risked everything to earn a living and help put the pottery back together. Which side of the door are they on now?
She conceded that our trials and tribulations in Afghanistan will have to come to a close before a parade may be in order, and we wondered together if a decent interval is the best we can manage there as well.
We may have learned a lesson here and there, but it is going to take a lot of discipline and fortitude to internalize the right ones and not let the distractions of a drawdown hamper our ability to improve as a military and a nation.
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