Flashback 2006: Sometimes with the heroism comes the horror

 

Northbrook Memorial Day parade, 2024

     I almost hit you with a "Happy Memorial Day." Then thought about what the holiday represents — a day to honor fallen American military men and women —  and pulled back. I'm on vacation this week, so will instead wish you a restful, reflective day. And hope that, in between the barbecues and baseball games, you think of the soldiers who gave the ultimate sacrifice so we could enjoy the freedom we still possess, despite the best efforts of the vandals who have seized our government to destroy it. 

      I have no sense of security or confidence that this freedom will last to Memorial Day 2026. But here's hoping. This ran in 2006, when the column filled a page, and I've kept the original subheadings. Three officers were reprimanded after the Haditha massacre, and of the eight Marines charged, seven had their cases dismissed; one had most of the charges against him dropped, pleaded guilty to a single count of dereliction of duty, and given a reduction in rank and a pay cut.

OPENING SHOT

     Details of the atrocity the military believes occurred last November — the murder of two dozen Iraqi men, women and children in Haditha by U.S. Marines — have been trickling out over the last few days.
     Just in time for Memorial Day; another bitter irony in an increasingly bitter war.
     Needless to say, this alarming crime will thrill our enemies, while providing grist for those who would decamp from Iraq immediately, no matter what effect our leaving might have on this unfortunate nation we have placed under our care.
     The rest of us, Americans who are proud of our country, or try to be, will be left confused, puzzled and sad. We are the good guys. Aren't we? How did Marines — the Few, the Proud — end up shooting babies?

'SUPPORT OUR TROOPS'

     "Everybody feels fear," the U.S. Marine Corps Warfighting Manual states. "The occurrences of war will not unfold like clockwork."
     Anyone expecting a gung-ho guide to the sweet smell of victory is in for a surprise, reading the book. Words such as "chaos," "uncertainty" "disorder" and "horror" stand out.
     I read it eight years ago, on a plane heading to California, when the Marines invited me out to Camp Pendleton to observe their amphibious invasion maneuvers. I went there laden with the standard civilian's bias against the military as a bunch of lunkheads shooting things, and came away deeply impressed, with both the intelligence and the rigor of the training, and the discipline and integrity of the men and women of the Corps.
     The Haditha massacre will be big news in the weeks and months to come, as the investigation concludes and the prosecution and punishment of those involved unfolds. It will be put to all sorts of purposes by all sorts of people.
     But we need to remember that this lone horror is not a general indictment of our country or of our military. Put hundreds of thousands of troops in a swirling, confused, murderous chaos such as Iraq, kill off 2,700 of them in endless surprise attacks sprung in the midst of often-hostile civilian populations, and this kind of breakdown is inevitable. I am not justifying it, just saying that it almost had to happen, eventually.
     Nobody joins the U.S. Marine Corps because they want to slaughter little girls in desolate desert towns. The training is designed to avoid needless brutality. That does not mean we have tamed war. It is awful, and it does awful things to people. Right or wrong, we sent our fellow citizens over there to do a job, and something bad happened to a few of them.
     "Support Our Troops" doesn't mean applaud when the sun shines and turn your face away when it rains. They were ours when they rolled into Baghdad. They are ours now, even those who are snapped and broken and shamed and facing the justice they were supposedly fighting to protect.

MEMORIAL DAY, 2006

     The old flag was torn. It had blown against a sharp section of aluminum downspout and ripped. So we took it along with us to the Friday fish dinner at the local VFW Hall and dropped it off to be respectfully burned.
     That was after last Fourth of July. Which meant that in advance of today, Memorial Day, I had to buy a new flag. I was glad for the chance. The old flag had come with our house and was small and polyester and cheap. I took the opportunity to get something bigger and better-made — 3 by 5 feet, nylon, with embroidered stars.
      I love the American flag. I find it beautiful, not only in the harmony of red and white stripes, of stars on a blue background, but for what it represents: freedom and liberty, courage and honor and justice. I see the flag, and think of Rangers climbing up a cliff at Normandy Beach into the teeth of German machine-gunners. And the Statue of Liberty. And baseball.
      I remember, after 10 days in stinking Haitian slums and dusty back roads, talking to people born under life's boot with no hope and no chance, finally catching a glimpse of that red, white and blue banner snapping on a tall flagpole in front of the U.S. Embassy in Port-au-Prince. The heart swells in a way you never forget.
      That said, I find it odious and frightening that Congress, in one of its periodic spasms of cowardice, is contemplating an amendment to the Constitution mandating respect for the flag. The flag-burning bill passed in the House and is a toss-up in the Senate.
      As much as I love the flag, and what it represents, I also understand there are people who see that flag and think of every wrong ever committed in its name, from the slaughter of the Indians to My Lai to, apparently, Haditha. Those are also facts, as real as Normandy Beach, and while I would disagree with such a viewpoint, I can't honestly say it's unjustifiable. It's their right to think that way.
      So far. I'll tell you this. No foreign dictator ever put the fear of losing our freedom into the heart of so many Americans as Congress is doing now. If you can't burn a flag today, tomorrow you might be forced to salute it.
      This morning, I'll put out my new flag — it really glows in the sun — drag my boys away from the Xbox and march them to the front porch, where we'll put our hands over our hearts and say the Pledge of Allegiance. Not because anyone is compelling us. Because I want to; because I think it is important to teach them patriotism.
     But if the Senate passes that ban . . . well, I like to think that I'll stand in the middle of the intersection of Madison and State at high noon, hold a flaming flag over my head and go to jail to protest the erosion of our freedom. I don't know if I'd have the guts. But I do know I'd never be able to fly the flag with the same pride. I might not be able to fly it at all. Because it wouldn't mean the same thing. It would be a banner of coerced respect, of the majority, misled by their craven leaders, muzzling the shrill and discontented few among us.
     It wouldn't be my flag anymore.

TODAY'S CHUCKLE

     A military joke seems in order today:
     As a group of soldiers stood in formation at an Army base, the drill sergeant said, "All right! All you idiots fall out."
     As the rest of the squad wandered away, one soldier remained at attention.
     The drill instructor walked over until he was eye-to-eye with him, and then raised a single eyebrow. The soldier smiled and said, "Sure was a lot of 'em, huh, sir?"
      — Originally published in the Sun-Times, May 29, 2006