Other
Priorities
I
listened to President Bushs inaugural speech on my car radio
and noticed how often he used the word freedom. As always, he
sounded confident that this abstraction, freedom, is what America stands
for and is fighting for in
Iraq. He
seemed to feel no need to
define his terms or explain his reasons. He simply asserted that our freedom
depends on the freedom of the rest of the world.
Afterward there was a lot of
commentary on the speech, not very enlightening. The best response to it
was a piece that was actually written some time before the speech was
given. I read it when I reached home.
It was an article in The
American Conservative by my old friend Fred Reed. Fred writes
often on military matters, with special sympathy for the soldier. He now lives
deep in central Mexico, because he dislikes what this country has become,
and he has found a lovely town that reminds him of the America he grew up
in. Hes also one of the best and funniest writers in the business, but
his latest is serious, and few of his pieces have made me shudder as this one
does.
He begins by observing that media
coverage of the Iraq war seldom allows us to hear from our troops
particularly the wounded. They are off the screen, throwaway
people. As far as most of us are concerned, they may as well not
exist.
Yet they are there,
somewhere, with missing legs, blind, becoming accustomed to groping at
things in their new darkness, learning to use the wheelchairs that will be
theirs for 50 years. Some face worse fates than others. Quadriplegics will be
warehoused in VA hospitals where nurses will turn them at intervals, like
hamburgers, to prevent bedsores. Friends and relatives will soon forget
them. Suicide will be a frequent thought. The less damaged will get around.
For a brief moment
perhaps the casualties will believe, then try desperately to keep believing,
that they did something brave and worthy and terribly important for that
abstraction, country. Some will expect thanks. But there will be no thanks, or
few, and those quickly forgotten. It will be worse. People will ask how they
lost the leg. In Iraq, they will say, hoping for sympathy, or respect, or
understanding. The response, often unvoiced but unmistakable, will be,
What did you do that for? The wounded will realize that they
are not only crippled, but freaks.
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years will go by. Iraq will fade into the mist. Wars
always do. A generation will rise for whom it will be just history. The
dismembered veterans will find first that almost nobody appreciates what
they did, then that few even remember it. If when, many would say
the United States is driven out of Iraq, the soldiers will look back and
realize that the whole affair was a fraud. Wars are just wars. They seem
important at the time. At any rate, we are told that they are important.
Yet the wounds will remain.
Arms do not grow back. For the paralyzed there will never be girlfriends,
dancing, rolling in the grass with children. The blind will adapt as best they
can. Those with merely a missing leg will count themselves lucky. They will
hobble about, managing to lead semi-normal lives, and people will say,
How well he handles it. An admirable freak. For others it will
be less good. A colostomy bag is a sorry companion on a wedding night.
These men will come to
hate. It will not be the Iraqis they hate. This we do not talk about.
It is hard to admit that one
has been used.... [Some of these men] will remember that their vice
president, a man named Cheney, said that during his war, the one in Asia, he
had other priorities. The veterans will remember this when
everyone else has long since forgotten Cheney.
The article ends: They
dont hate America. They hate those who sent them. Talk to the
wounded from Iraq in five years.
There doesnt seem much
to add to that. But I think Ill recall Freds words a lot longer
than the presidents.
Joseph Sobran
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