There is a scene in the movie Full Metal Jacket in which American foot soldiers march through the charred, mangled remnants of a Vietnamese city, distant flames silhouetting them in the semidarkness, singing the Mickey Mouse Club song. “Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree! M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!”
The jarring irony of the image and the song is one of the best statements ever made not just about the Vietnam War, but also about the ambivalence so many people feel about America itself. We are, on the one hand, a generous-hearted people whose culture reflects optimism and enterprise, who would rather build a village than bomb one. And yet we are the underwriters of a frighteningly efficient instrument of destruction, capable of laying waste to virtually any place or people we choose. So when we begin talking about military matters, a mishmash of competing sentiments tugs at us.
Some Americans admire and respect U.S. soldiers but would rather not use them. Others admire and respect U.S. soldiers, especially when we use them. Still others claim to admire and respect U.S. soldiers, but privately would admit they so abhor the notion of sanctioned killing they can’t stomach the uniform.
Which brings us to Iraq, and Stanford alumni in the U.S. military.
We don’t know exactly how many of them there are—the armed services only ask college graduates what degree they have, not where they earned it—but we know there are at least several dozen, and we thought it was important to acknowledge them and to try to capture what their experience is like in a time of war. So we chose one, an Army captain named Roman Skaskiw, to share a picture of life on the ground in Iraq. You’ll find his highly personal account here.
Regardless of one’s politics, any reader can find solace and celebration in Roman’s experience, as well as sorrow and disappointment. His story is another reminder that there are many ways to look at the situation in Iraq. Certainly no narrow viewpoint stands up to scrutiny when examined through the lens of one who is actually there, carrying the rifle.
The conflict in Iraq is about so many things—religion, politics, culture, tribe. But it’s also about a computer science major from New York, fatigued, doing his best.
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You probably noticed that this issue of the magazine looks different from previous ones. Thanks to the work of art director Bambi Nicklen, Stanford received its first redesign in five years. It’s a cosmetic upgrade, but more than that. It’s driven by our interest in finding new and better ways to invite readers onto the page and into a section. We hope you like the results.
