War is Real: The Grave Strain of Having Loved Ones in Iraq

You can argue all day about whether or not the Bush administration is a failure. I choose to keep my opinions on the matter to myself (it's an absolute failure, no question). The only thing that liberals and conservatives can agree on is that we want the soldiers to come home safely. It's almost perfunctory of someone to wish a prompt, bloodless return for the troops. But how many people truly understand the gravity of war? How many people can empathize with those who have loved ones in Iraq?

My cousin's husband is a fire support officer currently serving in Iraq. I can't say where is or what he is doing. I know where he is and what he is doing, but I'm not allowed to disseminate that information through a public medium. For some reason, it's confidential. Over the past year, I've become fairly close to him. I'm closer to him than most of my sanguinary relatives. I've never lost anyone close to me, so having a relative on the battlefield has been quite sobering.

The chance of a soldier becoming a casualty in Iraq is actually low. That doesn't make my cousin feel any better. She's used to him being gone for weeks at a time for training purposes, but this is different. Two days ago, a soldier in his unit was killed. There are many troops in his battalion, but this loss introduced a startling dose of reality. It's beginning to sink in. He's fighting in Iraq, and he will continue to do so for at least another 6-12 months. The violence will escalate. His life is on the line every single day.

I know that he's scared. Why shouldn't he be? This isn't a war that he started. I don't know if he agrees with Bush's policies, but I do know that NO ONE who is even remotely acquainted with him wants him to be in Iraq right now. Sure, my cousin has financial aid and she doesn't have to work, but what else is she supposed to do? She lives in an empty house. A job is at least occupying. Still, she comes home to pictures of a husband who she can't embrace or sleep next to.

She isn't the only person who is missing him. I might as well refer to "him" as...oh, let's say Justin (because that's NOT his first name). Justin is part Italian. His family could very well be mistaken for the mafia. I saw a decent percentage of them at his wedding, and I thought maybe they comprised the entire guest list of a different wedding. That's at least 50 people who are deeply impacted by his absence. I bring this up to give more meaning to the dictum "support our troops."

It's so easy to say that you support the troops. It's so easy to wave an American flag (that was made in China). It's so easy to champion the bellicose mentality of being pre-emptive. It's disturbingly easy to applaud the execution of Saddam Hussein when we send numbers into Iraq. Note that I didn't say "soldiers." There is an appalling disconnect in America between what we think we are doing and what we are actually doing. Troops are not merely bodies. They are three-dimensional people with families and histories as intricate as yours.

Sending more troops to Iraq, a country whose "threat" to the United States has been grossly exaggerated since 9/12, is like cleaning a ketchup stain with...ketchup. Some say that Americans have forgotten the horror of 9/11. I say we've forgotten the profound bearing that sending a loved one off to war has on the family nucleus. Troops aren't humans in the eyes of the militant; they are tools. I am now seeing first-hand the reality of war. War is perilous enough when it's necessary. What Justin's family is enduring is stark, duplicitous, and unnecessary.