On Sept. 1, 2005 I traded my comfortable shoes for boots. That’s the day I was no longer a civilian employee and information technology manager, the day I became a full time soldier instead of a weekend warrior. I traded the tranquil rolling hills of north Georgia for sandstorms, gunfire and the sonic disturbances of frequent explosions. This morning a mortar blast rattled the door of the modular trailer I work in and set off car alarms nearby.
I was never in any immediate danger, because I work under a heavy concrete parking garage. Most of the soldiers I know aren’t as lucky. Most of the soldiers here have to navigate perilous territory every day. They have to face dangers head-on, and must worry about more than the fabled “golden mortar.” That’s not so for average Iraqis and it wasn’t so for average Americans who worked in the World Trade Center. Then or now, average people are the real victims in political power plays. Some with political power try to minimize innocent death during power struggles. Others attempt to maximize it. You figure out who is who.
Having been in Baghdad for several months now, I’m more cognizant than ever of my own mortality, and of the expiration date that all of us have. I want my life to make sense and mean something. I think it does, despite all the rowdy people back home who scream and slobber about the “illegal war,” poking at what is being done over here with a stick, afflicted by intellectual myopia, making the wounds worse by offering stinging criticisms but no positive alternatives to the current course of action. They ask so many questions, but are never satisfied with the answers. They gloss over the evil that is Saddam Hussein and the mass graves of somewhere between a quarter-million and half-million human beings. They ignore the brokenness of civilization in this part of the world and spend their precious breaths blaming instead of actively helping.
Partway through my first and what I hope will be last war, I’m more convinced than ever that war actually does change history, sometimes for the better. Whether this war, my war, will make the world better or worse remains to be seen. It’s up in the air. Much progress has been made, infrastructure built and lives improved. That is one side of the coin. There is the other, uglier side too. Many people have died. Many wonder for what? I don’t have all those answers and the daily shrieks of the superpundits on both sides have grown almost intolerable.
All I can offer from this vantage point is to add my labors to the vast effort here and hope. And I can honor those who have died at the hands of the savages.
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Today, I am dedicating my remaining service in this country to one of the good guys who is gone from us. His name is Sgt. Mike Stokely and he was killed on August 16, 2005. I didn’t know him but his memory is worth honoring. He was a caring individual who gave up his life trying to make a positive difference. When I get up in the morning with a bad attitude, I’m going to change it because of Mike. When I want to quit, I’m going to think of Mike. When I’m pissed off because someone is micromanaging, thinking of Mike will help me calm down.
What motivates you? For the remainder of my journeys in Iraq, my motivation will be honoring Mike and other fallen citizen soldiers who were willing to give up their lives for the nation they loved.
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You can honor Mike too. Donate to his memorial fund:
MIKE STOKELY FOUNDATION
2795 East Highway 34
Newnan, GA 30265
678-416-1387
Mike’s dad was kind enough to share video of Mike’s memorial with me, as well as these photos. Thank you, sir. Your son was a decent human being, and I’ll remember and honor him the rest of my days. His life was important. It rippled outward.