Wordsmith at War is the winner of my first ever essay contest, but there were several good entries. I’m posting the winning entry below and will post the runner-ups over the next two days, so check back:
Why am I here?
I’m in Iraq because I raised my hand and swore to defend my country against all enemies foreign and domestic. I’m here because I believe, odd as it may sound to those who have never served in the military or fought in a combat zone, that service to one’s country is an important part of being a citizen of that country. I ask you what nobler way to serve than to join the military and agree to go wherever they send you to defend against those who would harm your family and your neighbor?
Some might say I should serve by doing community service or other volunteer work, addressing our country’s inherent problems from the bottom-up, at the local level first. But there is no shortage of volunteers at the soup lines and foster homes. There is, however, a shortage of Americans who are willing to depart the normalcy and comfort of their lives and fly around the globe to fight a brutal and religiously fanatic enemy. These are tough choices – the sofa or the cot, the restaurant or the chow hall, the company of your own family or that of your fellow soldiers. Ergot, I see soldiering, juxtaposed with the massive effects we can have on our country’s (and children’s) safety and future, as the right choice for me.
I’m in Iraq because I believe the attack on September 11th, 2001, ushered in a new era for terrorism. I agreed that it was best to go global right then and establish lines of demarcation across our humble little planet, clearly exposing those who stand against terrorism and those who would harbor and aid terrorist groups.
Most importantly, I’m in Iraq because of my children, and all the children of the world. It’s ironic that I would agree to leave my children for 18 months and fight in a land that has no more substance to their innocent little minds than a fairy tale. But one day they will read about what we’ve done in their history books, hopefully find themselves in a society relatively free of terrorism (there will always be some violence), and understand the importance of what we’re doing here. This fight is physically in Iraq and Afghanistan, but symbolically and historically it stands for much more. We’re fighting in the present, but for the future. We’re fighting in Iraq, but for our own country as well. We’re fighting adults, on behalf of children.
Yes – as a human being I care about the Iraqi people and the future of this country free from a violent dictator. Yes – I volunteered to come because I think that all people deserve freedom such as we have in America, and as a citizen and soldier it was my turn to serve my country in combat. Yes – I felt it was the least I could do considering all those who have given their lives in past conflicts to assure the freedoms we all enjoy today. But I am also selfish. If our children live in a safer country because of what I’m doing in Iraq, and terrorists are afraid to attack us because they know the consequences first hand, and we dissect the nuclei of terrorist cells, making them run for cover and never feel safe, then that’s reason enough for me to be here. If I tell myself I’m making a safer future for the kids, I can sleep better at night, although I don’t sleep in my own bed, anywhere near my children, and am often awoken by the sound of mortars and rockets exploding with kinetic violence, as if out of spite for the earth itself, rather than the sweet chorus of my children’s voices calling for me in the night, afraid of the dark.
I’m not a warmonger. I was not the kid you knew in high school who joined Junior ROTC and dreamed of becoming a soldier. I was not that guy. I prefer intellectual debate to violence every time. I believe in the power of pen over sword. When I completed my first Active Duty enlistment, I accepted my honorable discharge and had no intentions of re-enlisting. Alas, I re-enlisted after a four year break, and then decided to become an officer and a citizen-soldier. And a few years later when a Lieutenant Colonel from a sister unit asked me to come to Iraq as his Signal Officer, I agreed.
I’m in Iraq because this is the war of my generation, and somebody has to volunteer to travel across the planet and defend America against people who will fly airplanes into buildings on an otherwise average sunny morning in downtown New York City. Through that act alone, terrorists declared war on the United States of America, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to take some action. I’d rather be a soldier, an active participant against such a cruel enemy, than a critic who enjoys the flavors of American life but isn’t willing to put on a uniform and say, America. I am your humble servant. Send me where you will. I don’t mean all citizens need to fight. Everyone is not supposed to be a soldier. But if you aren’t willing to do so, then your criticism lacks substance.
I’m in Iraq because regardless of my religious preference, or lack thereof, I know the universe will unfold exactly as it’s supposed to. The long string of moments and experiences that make up my life, and that impacted my decision to become a soldier, coalesced into this tiny fulcrum of time and space, colliding with perfect entropy and placing me in the midst of this war, in the Al Anbar Province of the western deserts of Iraq. And like every other great victory or tragedy in our sordid history, this too shall pass.
Quite simply, I’m in Iraq because right now, I believe it’s where I’m supposed to be.