Roman Skaskiw, ’01, last year completed his third and final tour of duty with the U.S. Army in Afghanistan and Iraq. He wrote “What Are We Doing Here?,” an essay describing his early experiences as an executive officer, in the March/April 2004 issue. In this follow-up, he offers a new perspective.
It doesn’t seem like five years since I wrote “E-mail from Iraq.” It seems much longer. In the interim, my curiosity has meandered over many questions about American empire, Middle East policy, security, wealth and taxes. My life, after a leisurely stint that encompassed graduate school, led me through a third combat tour when I was involuntarily summoned from the inactive reserve to serve in Afghanistan, this time as a civil affairs officer in the violent Kunar Province. My visceral opposition to these wars has had time to crystallize.
I have not been victimized by my military experiences, or by the Army. Claiming so is such a common refrain among veterans I’ve been tempted to adopt it, simply because it would require less explanation. In truth, I’ve benefited from my experiences. I have no complaints about pay, though I would likely have done better following through with my long-forgotten computer science degree. I haven’t suffered from shortages in benefits or care, though I don’t doubt others have. I enjoy the respect and credibility veterans seem to get for free and entirely independent of their competence. I’ve made many friends, and got to bear witness to that mysterious and heavily mythologized thing called combat. The great responsibilities I’d been entrusted with—leading men in combat as a platoon leader, preparing paratroopers as a jumpmaster, serving as a diplomat with Iraqi councilmen or Afghan tribal leaders—taught me much about myself and about people.
I think the breadth and depth of these responsibilities overwhelmed my perceptions when I wrote “E-mail from Iraq.” To me, now, it reads like war propaganda—a demonstration of the goodwill, energy and character of war’s participants, while beckoning the reader to ignore how we got there. I should not have so lightly abandoned the question of what I was fighting for.
When you’re overseas, in danger and trying to live up to the demands of your job, it’s easy to lose sight of larger issues. What are we fighting for? Who is threatening my liberties? If the threat of terrorism is so great that I’m supposed to risk my life overseas, why has our government done nothing to secure our porous borders? Why do the Iraqis hate us? Where does the money come from?
There are well-established moral arguments against war, all of which are seldom read and easily ignored by the many thousands of young men and women for whom the military provides livelihood and adventure. Young men simply like to fight. This will never change.
My own objections to our seven-year military endeavors are rooted in concern for America. These foreign wars are making us less safe—from terrorism, from tyranny, from debt. I have never ceased being amazed at the extravagant consumption of resources, whether by the number of old computer science friends employed on military-sponsored research projects, or the two pairs of brand-new boots I was unable to decline during my most recent mobilization, despite already owning a duffel bag full of them. Soldiers are buried in redundant, unnecessary, expensive gear.
Were I to advise an aspiring officer or soldier, I would tell him or her to decide what he or she wants from the military—adventure, a salary, benefits, job security, clout, responsibility, personal development, an escape—and pursue it selfishly. Abandon those tired ideals that have been used to justify both sides of every conflict humanity has ever seen. Look out for your own interests, like Clint Eastwood’s laconic Man With No Name in A Fistful of Dollars and Pablo in Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.
Perhaps I’m abandoning idealism because I’m against these wars, but not ready to condemn the military establishment. Were I to allow for a small measure of idealism, I’d encourage the aspiring military types to remember their oaths—something about supporting and defending the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.
