31 May

Believing in a Just Cause

“this is what success looks like: an Iraq that provides no safe-haven to terrorists; a democratic Iraq that is sovereign, stable, and self-reliant.”-President Obama, graduation address at West Point


A Kurdish Peshmerga soldier keeps his finger with indelible ink near the trigger of his weapon after voting during a regional parliament election at a polling station in Baghdad July 23, 2009.
REUTERS/Mohammed Ameen

Thomas Daly, author of Rage Company: A Marine’s Baptism by Fire, writes in the Washington Post:

Seven minutes into our first patrol in Ramadi, the point man was shot in the throat. The wounded Marine apologized to his lieutenant for getting hit. Then he went unconscious.


~~~

I couldn’t stop wondering: What did this Marine’s sacrifice accomplish? We didn’t kill or detain any al Qaeda operatives. We didn’t discover any hidden weapons caches. Ramadi didn’t feel any safer because of our presence. So what was the point?


~~~

To ignore the why erodes the basic principle that provides what every combatant needs to fight: the reassurance that the cause is worthy of the ultimate sacrifice. Once this basic principle is no longer true, soldiers and Marines fight for self-preservation, and each other, not a heroic cause or just peace, as politicians might like to think.

In Ramadi, our lives were reduced to a collection of missions, during which we tried to identify and kill an unseen enemy before he could do the same to us. We weren’t fighting for any noble objective, or to protect the U.S. from weapons of mass destruction. We were fighting for survival.

Then, halfway through the deployment, in the vast farmland east of Ramadi, an answer came. In January of 2007 an Iraqi citizen militia approached my unit, wanting to help us defeat al Qaeda. In the series of pinpoint raids that followed, I realized that I wasn’t fighting for America. I was fighting for the Iraqi people. The more I interacted with the militia, understood their suffering, the more I became convinced in their cause against al Qaeda. The brutal murder of a father while his wife and young children were forced to watch and the placement of children’s heads in baskets because their “tribe” was not fighting the Americans were no longer statistics. They knew the hard reality of life under brutal terrorists. Their pain was real. And because of that reality, the fathers, sons, mothers and daughters that made up the militia became my, and America’s, greatest opportunity. They revealed to me my unseen enemy. Al Qaeda was no longer a shadow in the dark. My unit now had a purpose. Our war finally had meaning.

We conducted raids with former insurgents, men who were once our enemy but had switched sides. We adapted to an unconventional style of warfare, which resulted in the capture and killing of dozens of militants, including the second highest-ranking insurgent in Anbar province. Most important, our actions directly contributed to what came to be known as the “Anbar Awakening”–the uprising of thousands of Anbari tribesmen against al Qaeda. That, in turn, led to the collapse of the terror network in cities like Fallujah, Haditha and Ramadi.

This was why we fought. Not for the reasons politicians championed from behind lecterns hundreds of miles away. We fought for the Iraqis. So they could live free from terror.

When the president and other elected officials send soldiers and Marines into battle, they know they’ll go willingly, at a moment’s notice, without questioning why. Eventually, though, that question will bubble up to the surface. It took me six months to figure it out.

I’m glad I did. Because you never want to be a looking at the body of a fallen comrade, searching for the meaning of his sacrifice.

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This entry was posted in Hearts & Minds, Military, The Iraqi War. Bookmark the permalink. Monday, May 31st, 2010 at 9:51 am
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2 Responses to Believing in a Just Cause

  1. Wordsmith says: 1

    Doesn’t matter to me what your MOS- anyone who enlists to serve in whatever capacity is putting his life on the line and deserves respect. Choe’s enthusiasm for being in Afghanistan was to help the Afghan people. And for that bit of American altruism?

    Like Daly, Choe found meaning in helping others- and it is a proud reflection upon the quality of the American soldier when helping others extends to helping others who aren’t American (even though I firmly believe that the American military should only fight wars that are directly tied in to American national security- of which helping other nations under certain circumstances- allies in particular- qualifies). The two-prong approach of killing terrorists (Daly) and winning hearts and minds (Choe).

    Standing amid the rows and rows of graves at Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery, Francisca Bacong says she still cannot understand the nightmare that took the life of her only daughter, Navy Lt. Florence Choe.

    As the nation today celebrates Memorial Day amid increasing American combat deaths in Afghanistan — 140 this year; more than 1,000 since the invasion in 2001 — Choe’s death is proof anew of an immutable fact: War’s cruelty is sometimes incomprehensible.

    Choe, 35, a hospital administrative specialist, had gone to Afghanistan to help the Afghans establish a hospital for their military and civilians. She was devoted to her husband and young daughter in San Diego, but the call to duty was strong.

    She and two other U.S. military personnel were jogging inside the perimeter of the base near Mazar-i-Sharif on March 27, 2009, when an insurgent posing as an Afghan soldier shot all three at point-blank range.

    As Choe fell to the ground, the gunman stood over her and fired again. Choe and another Navy officer were killed, the third runner was seriously wounded but survived and the insurgent killed himself as armed U.S. guards came running.

    “She went there to help the Afghan people,” said Bacong, her voice trembling. “She had asked us to send clothes and chocolate and magazines for them, and we did. And then this happens.”

    Choe had insisted that she would be in no danger during the 12-month deployment: She was a noncombatant, working inside the security of a base.

    She was born in San Diego — her parents had emigrated from the Philippines — and received a bachelor of science degree from UC San Diego in 1997 and a master’s in public health with an emphasis on healthcare administration from San Diego State in 2001. She enlisted in the Navy two days after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

    After service in Navy hospitals in Okinawa, Japan; San Diego; and Bethesda, Md., she was excited about helping the Afghan government begin to provide decent medical care for its people.

    “She kept telling us after she got there, ‘Don’t worry, Mom and Dad, I’m safe, I’m not doing the fighting,’ ” said her father, Rufino Bacong, 65, a retired Navy culinary specialist.

    The shock of having Navy officials and a chaplain arrive at their home to notify them of their daughter’s death is still palpable.

    “It was unreal, like I was watching a movie,” her mother said. When the details of the killing were later revealed to them, the family’s agony only increased.

    “To shoot her while she was on the ground,” said Choe’s husband, Navy Lt. Cmdr. Chong “Jay” Choe, 34, a physician at Naval Medical Center San Diego, “shows us how radical, how extreme many of their thoughts are about us.”

    On Monday, there will be a small flag on Choe’s grave, and on each of the 102,000 other graves at the expansive cemetery in the Point Loma area of San Diego. It’s a Memorial Day tradition.

    Florence Choe’s family members have their own tradition forged from tragedy. They go to her grave every week, sometimes more often, to talk, cry and gather strength from their memories of a bright, loving young woman dedicated to her family and her nation.

    “It’s peaceful here,” said Choe’s brother, Rufino “Ruffy” Bacong Jr., 37. “I can talk to Florence here. I feel her presence.”

    A cousin, Marsha Lapid, 29, works near the cemetery and visits the grave frequently. “It helps me to come here and talk to Florence,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s still here for me, still bringing the family together.”

    To 4-year-old Kristin Bacong Choe, her mother’s grave is a “happy place.” Last week she brought a small, pink stuffed bear to share with her mother.

    On Mother’s Day, she brought a card she had drawn for her mother and placed it beside the tombstone. A shy but sturdy child, Kristin offers strength to older members of the family.

    “When Florence was killed, I said, ‘I don’t have any life anymore,’ ” said Francisca Bacong, 62, who wears a T-shirt with her daughter’s picture. “But now I know I have to go on for Jay and Kristin.”

    Kristin’s resiliency amazes her father. “She is my source of strength, she carries on,” he said.

    While in Afghanistan, Florence Choe had organized other U.S. personnel to videotape readings of their children’s favorite books. Kristin occasionally asks that her father play the one of her mother reading “The Cat in the Hat” and “Goodnight, Gorilla.”

    It would be surprising if Jay Choe did not feel anger at the gunman and the circumstances that led to the killing. But when he thinks about his wife’s death, he realizes that the U.S. cannot overcome the hatred and misunderstanding rampant in Afghanistan through force alone.

    “It’s going to take a lot more than bombs and bullets,” he said. “It will take winning hearts and minds. That was what Flo was there for.”

    To walk the grounds of the 77.5-acre Fort Rosecrans cemetery is to bear witness to the service and sacrifice of generations. Choe’s grave is between those of an Air Force veteran of World War II and the Korean War who died in 2008, and a Navy veteran of World War I and World War II who died in 1959.

    Down the row from Choe’s grave is that of Navy SEAL Michael Anthony Monsoor, who posthumously received the Medal of Honor for smothering a grenade to save his buddies in Iraq in 2006. His gravestone has the motto “No Regrets.”

    Choe’s gravestone notes her Purple Heart and Bronze Star and says that she “graced us with her beauty.”

    As a military family, Choe’s parents know that there will be more fresh graves and more grieving at Ft. Rosecrans next Memorial Day.

    “I hope the war is over soon. I hope that they can all come home,” said her mother.

    “It’s going to be awhile,” her father said softly. “It’s going to be awhile.”

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  2. Tom N says: 2

    Thanks for the post and thanks to our military for their dedication. I also think Obama is doing harm to our military by not standing up for them. That includes his wife for her lack of reponse to military observance days such as Veterns day, Memorial Day, and others.

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