Experience in and of itself does not shape who we are, or our perspectives. The value we assign to our experiences determines their effect over the course of months and years.
I often reflect on the encounters from my 15 years in the Army. Those with time in the service can appreciate how individuals we meet along the way impact our lives, especially when we look back.
During the summer of 2004 I spent time with Mark J. Daily. Aside from training at Fort Lewis, Wash., and Fort Benning, Ga., kids from Readfield, Maine, and Irving, Calif., would not have met. Intelligent, articulate, and hilarious, Mark was a fast friend and natural leader. We walked the woods, jumped out of perfectly good airplanes, and shared a beer in celebration of our now-nominal accomplishments. Mark and I stayed in touch over the following years and deployed to Iraq in separate units at separate times.
On a crisp winter morning at Fort Bragg, N.C., in 2007 I spoke with a mutual friend. My coffee was hot and a long list of tasks laid ahead. Almost an afterthought, I commented, “I haven’t heard back from Mark for a while.”
“Ah, Mark was KIA last month.” The response struck me. Coffee and tasks aside, the news stayed with me that day and since.
While the circumstances of his death, and deaths of three others in his convoy, are profoundly sad, it is the way Mark lived that I celebrate. Insurgents increased the use of Explosive Formed Projectiles, or EFP, during that time in Iraq and caused the loss of an amazing man. However, it is his views on a life of service I share today. I hope to spark a light for you brighter than the flash that took Mark from us much to soon.
With that said, I humbly offer an opportunity for reflection from Mark’s perspective. At 23, he was insightful and eloquent in his remarks. I hope readers appreciate his words, as I value his friendship over 13 years later.
– Andrew Zikowitz grew up in Readfield before joining the U.S. Army.
This question has been asked of me so many times in so many different contexts that I thought it would be best if I wrote my reasons for joining the Army on my page for all to see. First, the more accurate question is why I volunteered to go to Iraq. After all, I joined the Army a week after we declared war on Saddam’s government with the intention of going to Iraq. Now, after years of training and preparation, I am finally here.
Much has changed in the last three years. The criminal Ba’ath regime has been replaced by an insurgency fueled by Iraq’s neighbors who hope to partition Iraq for their own ends. This is coupled with the ever present transnational militant Islamist movement which has seized upon Iraq as the greatest way to kill Americans, along with anyone else they happen to be standing near. What was once a paralyzed state of fear is now the staging ground for one of the largest transformations of power and ideology the Middle East has experienced since the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. Thanks to Iran, Syria, and other enlightened local actors, this transformation will be plagued by interregional hatred and genocide. And I am now in the center of this.
Is this why I joined?
Yes. Much has been said about America’s intentions in overthrowing Saddam Hussein and seeking to establish a new state based upon political representation and individual rights. Many have framed the paradigm through which they view the conflict around one-word explanations such as “oil” or “terrorism,” favoring the one which best serves their political persuasion. I did the same thing, and anyone who knew me before I joined knows that I am quite aware and at times sympathetic to the arguments against the war in Iraq. If you think the only way a person could bring themselves to volunteer for this war is through sheer desperation or blind obedience then consider me the exception (though there are countless like me).
I joined the fight because it occurred to me that many modern day “humanists” who claim to possess a genuine concern for human beings throughout the world are in fact quite content to allow their fellow “global citizens” to suffer under the most hideous state apparatuses and conditions. Their excuses used to be my excuses. When asked why we shouldn’t confront the Ba’ath party, the Taliban or the various other tyrannies throughout this world, my answers would allude to vague notions of cultural tolerance (forcing women to wear a veil and stay indoors is such a quaint cultural tradition), the sanctity of national sovereignty (how eager we internationalists are to throw up borders to defend dictatorships!) or even a creeping suspicion of America’s intentions.
When all else failed, I would retreat to my fragile moral ecosystem that years of living in peace and liberty had provided me. I would write off war because civilian casualties were guaranteed, or temporary alliances with illiberal forces would be made, or tank fuel was toxic for the environment. My fellow “humanists” and I would relish contently in our self righteous declaration of opposition against all military campaigns against dictatorships, congratulating one another for refusing to taint that aforementioned fragile moral ecosystem that many still cradle with all the revolutionary tenacity of the members of Rage Against the Machine and Green Day.
Others would point to America’s historical support of Saddam Hussein, sighting it as hypocritical that we would now vilify him as a thug and a tyrant. Upon explaining that we did so to ward off the fiercely Islamist Iran, which was correctly identified as the greater threat at the time, eyes are rolled and hypocrisy is declared. Forgetting that America sided with Stalin to defeat Hitler, who was promptly confronted once the Nazis were destroyed, America’s initial engagement with Saddam and other regional actors is identified as the ultimate argument against America’s moral crusade.
And maybe it is. Maybe the reality of politics makes all political action inherently crude and immoral. Or maybe it is these adventures in philosophical masturbation that prevent people from ever taking any kind of effective action against men like Saddam Hussein. One thing is for certain, as disagreeable or as confusing as my decision to enter the fray may be, consider what peace vigils against genocide have accomplished lately. Consider that there are 19-year-old soldiers from the Midwest who have never touched a college campus or a protest who have done more to uphold the universal legitimacy of representative government and individual rights by placing themselves between Iraqi voting lines and homicidal religious fanatics. Often times it is less about how clean your actions are and more about how pure your intentions are.
So that is why I joined. In the time it took for you to read this explanation, innocent people your age have suffered under the crushing misery of tyranny. Every tool of philosophical advancement and communication that we use to develop our opinions about this war are denied to countless human beings on this planet, many of whom live under the regimes that have, in my opinion, been legitimately targeted for destruction. Some have allowed their resentment of the president to stir silent applause for setbacks in Iraq. Others have ironically decried the war because it has tied up our forces and prevented them from confronting criminal regimes in Sudan, Uganda, and elsewhere.
I simply decided that the time for candid discussions of the oppressed was over, and I joined.
In digesting this posting, please remember that America’s commitment to overthrow Saddam Hussein and his sons existed before the current administration and would exist into our future children’s lives had we not acted. Please remember that the problems that plague Iraq today were set in motion centuries ago and were up until now held back by the most cruel of cages.
Don’t forget that human beings have a responsibility to one another and that Americans will always have a responsibility to the oppressed. Don’t overlook the obvious reasons to disagree with the war but don’t cheapen the moral aspects either. Assisting a formerly oppressed population in converting their torn society into a plural, democratic one is dangerous and difficult business, especially when being attacked and sabotaged from literally every direction. So if you have anything to say to me at the end of this reading, let it at least include: “Good Luck.”
Mark J. Daily wrote this essay, originally printed in the Los Angeles Times, in October 2006. He was killed Jan. 15, 2007, in Mosul, Iraq, from wounds suffered when an improvised explosive device detonated near his vehicle during combat operations.
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