A Life, Wasted
Washington Post
By Paul E. Schroeder
January 3, 2006
Early on Aug. 3, 2005, we heard that 14 Marines had been killed in Haditha,
Iraq. Our son, Lance Cpl. Edward "Augie" Schroeder II, was stationed there. At
10:45 a.m. two Marines showed up at our door. After collecting himself for what
was clearly painful duty, the lieutenant colonel said, "Your son is a true
American hero."
Since then, two reactions to Augie's death have compounded the sadness.
At times like this, people say, "He died a hero." I know this is meant with
great sincerity. We appreciate the many condolences we have received and how
helpful they have been. But when heard repeatedly, the phrases "he died a hero"
or "he died a patriot" or "he died for his country" rub raw.
"People think that if they say that, somehow it makes it okay that he died,"
our daughter, Amanda, has said. "He was a hero before he died, not just because
he went to Iraq. I was proud of him before, and being a patriot doesn't make
his death okay. I'm glad he got so much respect at his funeral, but that didn't
make it okay either."
The words "hero" and "patriot" focus on the death, not the life. They are a
flag-draped mask covering the truth that few want to acknowledge openly: Death
in battle is tragic no matter what the reasons for the war. The tragedy is the
life that was lost, not the manner of death. Families of dead soldiers on both
sides of the battle line know this. Those without family in the war don't
appreciate the difference.
This leads to the second reaction. Since August we have witnessed growing
opposition to the Iraq war, but it is often whispered, hands covering mouths,
as if it is dangerous to speak too loudly. Others discuss the never-ending
cycle of death in places such as Haditha in academic and sometimes clinical
fashion, as in "the increasing lethality of improvised explosive devices."
Listen to the kinds of things that most Americans don't have to experience:
The day Augie's unit returned from Iraq to Camp Lejeune, we received a box with
his notebooks, DVDs and clothes from his locker in Iraq. The day his unit
returned home to waiting families, we received the second urn of ashes. This
lad of promise, of easy charm and readiness to help, whose highest high was
saving someone using CPR as a first aid squad volunteer, came home in one
coffin and two urns. We buried him in three places that he loved, a fitting
irony, I suppose, but just as rough each time.
I am outraged at what I see as the cause of his death. For nearly three
years, the Bush administration has pursued a policy that makes our troops
sitting ducks. While Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice told the Senate
Foreign Relations Committee that our policy is to "clear, hold and build" Iraqi
towns, there aren't enough troops to do that.
In our last conversation, Augie complained that the cost in lives to clear
insurgents was "less and less worth it," because Marines have to keep coming
back to clear the same places. Marine commanders in the field say the same
thing. Without sufficient troops, they can't hold the towns. Augie was killed
on his fifth mission to clear Haditha.
At Augie's grave, the lieutenant colonel knelt in front of my wife and, with
tears in his eyes, handed her the folded flag. He said the only thing he could
say openly: "Your son was a true American hero." Perhaps. But I felt no glory,
no honor. Doing your duty when you don't know whether you will see the end of
the day is certainly heroic. But even more, being a hero comes from respecting
your parents and all others, from helping your neighbors and strangers, from
loving your spouse, your children, your neighbors and your enemies, from
honesty and integrity, from knowing when to fight and when to walk away, and
from understanding and respecting the differences among the people of the
world.
Two painful questions remain for all of us. Are the lives of Americans being
killed in Iraq wasted? Are they dying in vain? President Bush says those who
criticize staying the course are not honoring the dead. That is twisted logic:
honor the fallen by killing another 2,000 troops in a broken policy?
I choose to honor our fallen hero by remembering who he was in life, not how
he died. A picture of a smiling Augie in Iraq, sunglasses turned upside down,
shows his essence -- a joyous kid who could use any prop to make others feel
the same way.
Though it hurts, I believe that his death -- and that of the other Americans
who have died in Iraq -- was a waste. They were wasted in a belief that
democracy would grow simply by removing a dictator -- a careless
misunderstanding of what democracy requires. They were wasted by not sending
enough troops to do the job needed in the resulting occupation -- a careless
disregard for professional military counsel.
But their deaths will not be in vain if Americans stop hiding behind
flag-draped hero masks and stop whispering their opposition to this war. Until
then, the lives of other sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers and mothers
may be wasted as well.
This is very painful to acknowledge, and I have to live with it. So does
President Bush.
The writer is managing director of a trade development firm in
Cleveland.
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