In a letter to
The Miami Herald, a man writes:
If I were a professional soldier, I would volunteer for service in Iraq. Since war means to a professional soldier the prospect of death, Iraq is a good deal compared with World War II, where casualties were measured in the hundreds and thousands. I blame the media for making mountains of minimal troop casualties. Propagandizing the number of American casualties is immoral and serves no national purpose. Any individual death is important, but not in the context of war where death is a given.
I am not addressing the validity of our presence in Iraq. However, America is there waging war.
Without giving credibility by using this moron’s name, I want to address the key issues here. Given this person’s attitude, I think it’s safe to say he has never served in the armed forces. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t known someone who has served or is serving in the armed forces, but maybe he hasn’t, or maybe he doesn’t value anyone’s life, so it’s easy to use terms like “minimal troop causalities.” Yes, more people died in WWII and Viet Nam, but the former was a global war on several fronts, and the latter dragged on for 15 years depending on when you believe it started. The over 2,000 troops that have died so far in Iraq probably don’t feel they were given a “good deal” when they were sent over there. The thousands personally affected by their deaths don’t think it was a good deal, either. Though many have been brainwashed into thinking that, as the ancient Roman generals told them, it is right and glorious to die for one’s country, those who have not bought into that, like Cindy Sheehan, have a right to mourn and protest. The immorality is not in the telling of how many and who have been killed, but in pretending that it is for a just cause or that it is unpatriotic to raise your voice against this war.
Let’s look at the idea of what or who is a “professional soldier.”
Chesty Puller was a professional soldier.
Lewis Puller was not. Dwight David Eisenhower was a professional soldier. Audie Murphy was not. Nor was
Ira Hayes. Colin Powell and Oliver North were professional soldiers. Cpl. Jimmy L. Shelton was not a professional soldier (21 year old from Lee County, FL killed in Iraq this week). When I served 3 years, 10 months, and 12 days in the US Navy as a hospital corpsman, I was not a professional soldier. Neither were most of the thousands of young men we cared for at the Philadelphia Naval Hospital. The majority of the more than 58,000 names on
The Wall are not of professional soldiers. The majority of troops now in Iraq are not professional soldiers, either. But, even if they were, their lives have no less value than the letter writer’s or anyone else’s. A professional soldier (and the term “soldier” is being used loosely here—serviceman or woman) is someone who is making a career of the military. We used to call them “Lifers.” I suppose they still do. I have great respect for them. We need them and their dedication and expertise to run our armed forces. We need them to be the constant, the foundation of our military might. But most people who join the military don’t expect to do it for life. They are our "citizen soldiers." They do it for tuition, for specialized training, for adventure (“a lonely impulse of delight”), for love. Yes, love—love of country. What lifers and non-lifers have in common is love of country—they are all patriots. Those who stay behind yet let them go, mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children, parents, lovers, and all the rest, are also patriots. They are proud of them. They want to believe their efforts will make a difference. War and death are possible outcomes for military service, though not a “given,” but if the ultimate sacrifice is made, they want to believe that their sacrifice meant something. Cindy Sheehan wanted to believe that. The father here in South Florida who saw the Marines walking up to his front door to tell him his son had died wanted to believe it but couldn’t. After he had burned their van to the ground in his rage and grief, the Marines understood. They didn’t hold it against him, take it personally, or prosecute him. They wear the uniform and understand. They know there are no minimal troop casualties. Don Quixote spoke eloquently about the plight of the soldier:
. . .suppose the day of battle to have arrived, when they invest him with the doctor's cap made of lint, to mend some bullet-hole, perhaps, that has gone through his temples, or left him with a crippled arm or leg. Or if this does not happen, and merciful Heaven watches over him and keeps him safe and sound, it may be he will be in the same poverty he was in before, and he must go through more engagements and more battles, and come victorious out of all before he betters himself; but miracles of that sort are seldom seen. For tell me, sirs, if you have ever reflected upon it, by how much do those who have gained by war fall short of the number of those who have perished in it? No doubt you will reply that there can be no comparison, that the dead cannot be numbered. . .We must number and memorialize, not trivialize the dead. We, those of us back home, whether we wore the uniform or not, must demand an accounting for those who send our best and brightest off to die, especially if “those who have gained by war fall short of the number of those who have perished in it.”
Say it again: There are no "minimal troop casualities."
