For the families and friends of those who have served, there is no war in Iraq, there is no war in Afghanistan, there is only war. Tactically and politically there are obvious glaring differences between the two, but for the families, there is one war. The missions are different, but the longing and heartbreak are the same. My story doesn't restrict itself to Iraq, it is a story of the entire war.
I was incredibly proud when my father left for Afghanistan in February of 2002. I was 12 years old when he left and I was proud because I knew he was fighting to keep us safe. My father spent a year in Bagram, Afghanistan, and though I missed him I never worried for his safety. I believed that our military was invincible, and though there were small casualties here and there, the odds that it would be my father or someone I knew were so small, I figured them to be zero.
In 2002, I lived in a suburb outside of Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. Most of my friends and neighbors were in some way linked to the military, and we shared that common bond. I remember the first casualty very clearly. A neighbor, who I had only met briefly before he was deployed, died in Afghanistan. His death struck me as unfortunate. I still believed that, of the people who died over there, the odds that I would know any of them were incredibly small. Surely this would be the only person I knew.
After 12 months in Afghanistan my father returned from his deployment. I was still incredibly proud, because my father had served for all of us, and I believed his part in the war was over.
In 2004, my father was once again sent over seas, this time to Korea. My older brother was about to be a senior in high school, and to prevent us from moving away for my brother's final school year my father chose to go to Korea. My father was not in any danger in Korea, but then again, I didn't think he was in danger when he was in Afghanistan. The experience, for me at least, was the same. Another 12 months, another successful return from deployment.
2005 was a turning point. I was now 16, the war had lasted for a few years and though I knew some people who had died, I wasn't really close to any of them. I'm an Eagle Scout, and scouting had always been a big part of my life. I always had a great amount of respect for the leaders of our troop, and many of them were in the military. In September of 2005, my Scoutmaster died in Afghanistan. For the first time, the war really hit home for me. Bob White was someone that I admired and knew very well. More than that, he had a son that was my age. Not only did I lose someone I cared about, I finally realized that the war was destroying lives, that it could happen to anyone. Casualties weren't the improbable anymore, they were the inevitable. I was crushed by his death, but in comparison to his son, I have no right to ever complain. My whole troop went to his funeral, we helped perform a flag ceremony, and then sat in one of the pews for the remainder of the funeral. Most of us sat in shocked silence, some cried quietly. It was hard to believe an invincible character like Ranger Bob could have died so suddenly and so violently. Moreover, none of us knew what to say to his son. I'm sorry? It'll be ok? Words were incredibly hollow, how could they begin to appease what had happened? I recently found the report of his death in the Afghan War Diaries. I was struck by how insignificant his death seems in the report. His death is 13 characters long: "PT2 is KIA USMIL." Those 13 characters contain so much heartache for so many people, how many more 13 characters are there in the world? How many times have those 13 characters been written? How can 13 characters be a life? Those 13 characters deserve a face, they deserve life behind them. The only thing we can do is remember. http://wardiary.wikileaks.org/afg/event/2005/09/AFG20050926n140.html
http://militarytimes.com/valor/army-staff-sgt-robert-f-white/1141555/
Since 2007, my father has been in a continuous cycle of deployment. He spent 2007-2008 in Kuwait, then 2008-2009 in Baghdad, Iraq. After he finished his last tour in Iraq, he came back to the states to resign himself to a nice desk-job, at least for a little while. Unfortunately, thats not what happened. Since returning from Iraq 16 months ago, my father has spent roughly 12 months overseas. He now travels between Saudi, Egypt, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Kuwait, Afghanistan, Oman, and Iraq, organizing training exercises with those countries. He is stuck with this job for another year and a half. My father has been abroad 5 of the past 8 years. Compared to what others have lost, I have no reason to complain. I lost my father for a few years, but he's still alive. My story could be told 1000 times over, it's not unique.
War isn't something that can be won, it isn't a game with one winner and one loser. I've lost, thousands of others have lost, "winning" doesn't give me a father for 5 more years, it doesn't bring the dead back to life. All we can do at this point is limit the damage, because we lost this war a long time ago.