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21 October 2003
Home from the war
BECAUSE Baltimore's
near a military base, it's not unusual to find soldiers waiting at the
city's airport for their flights. But last Thursday, when I had to catch
a flight there, I was taken aback to find the airport swarming with men
and women in uniform.
They weren't armed but I still felt anxious, especially with the public
address system playing, over and over again, a taped announcement
warning people to watch their bags and take extra security precautions.
The reminder is standard in all American airports but in Baltimore,
they'd end the announcement by thanking the public for
"understanding the need for the precautions in these times."
In these times. The
feeling I had was that these were times of war. Then I had to remind
myself there is indeed a war, except that the battle lines are out in
Iraq.
I was to get another reminder as I queued up for the security check. At
one point I turned back and caught the eyes of one of the soldiers. It's
one of those gut feelings you have when you're overseas: you see someone
in a crowd and you know immediately that the person is Filipino. The
soldier smiled and I nodded back, now certain he was Pinoy.
I would have wanted to ask him where he was flying to but he was too far
back in the line. The American in front of him did ask, eventually, and
I could hear his reply, "We came in from Baghdad."
I remembered that the previous day's New York Times had a front-page
article about the US government bringing home more soldiers for 15-day
furloughs, in response to their sinking morale.
It's not surprising the soldiers, and their families, have been feeling
so low. The United States invaded Iraq in March and by May, a proud
George W. Bush declared victory. Saddam Hussein had fallen and most of
Iraq was now occupied by the Americans and British. It seemed the
soldiers would be home soon.
It turns out that Bush's declaration of victory was only the beginning
of America's nightmare, somewhat like Dewey's battle with Spanish forces
at Manila Bay in 1898. It was won almost bloodlessly, but only ushered
in a decade-long Philippine-American war that took several more thousand
Filipino and American lives.
Between March and Oct. 18 this year, 338 US soldiers have been killed in
Iraq, 103 of them after May 1, when Bush declared victory. More than
1,500 soldiers have been wounded in the war, with Iraqi attacks now
becoming more frequent. Last Saturday alone, there were 15 armed
encounters between US soldiers and Iraqis.
Monday's Washington Post said there are at present some 130,000 US
troops in Iraq. That's about the size of the entire Armed Forces of the
Philippines. The Washington Post reports that there are plans to reduce
the number but this will be quite slow, with an estimated 100,000 US
troops to remain in Iraq next year.
Who are these soldiers? The ones I saw in Baltimore's airport were
mostly very young, and like our Pinoy, from minority groups, mostly
African-American and Hispanic. My American friends tell me most of the
soldiers are from low-income households.
The New York Times article I mentioned focused on the furlough of Juan
Castillo, a 21-year-old Latino. The front-page photograph showed him
with his 19-year-old wife, April, and their son, Juan Jr., born while
the father was in Iraq.
The New York Times followed Castillo through his first 12 days of
furlough. The first day he talked about his plans, of catching a
football game, "a swig of tequila with his boys, quality time with
the wife and kid, maybe even sky diving."
The days that followed had him spending much of his time with his family
and visiting friends. He had gone back to his high school with a gift
for his school's police officer: an Iraqi police patch.
We hear Castillo describing how he wanted to make the most of his
furlough. I'm sure our overseas workers can relate to Castillo talking
about trying not to sleep too much, of savoring "each kiss from his
wife, each minute with the baby, each inch of his bed and each sip of
Mountain Dew." He also talked about what it was like in Iraq, about
how he'd fainted from heat exhaustion, about getting pelted with rocks,
doing night patrols in the desert and mainly, of boredom.
We are told Castillo's favorite word for describing Iraq is
"madness." And we sense he is, too, mad at times: "We
haven't found anything, no weapons of mass destruction, no Saddam, no
nothing. And the people there hate us... We're conquerors to them. It
wasn't supposed to be like that."
The furloughs are still experimental. The generals probably know this
could backfire, bringing young soldiers home for a few days, only to be
flown back to the battlefield. During the Vietnam War, American GIs were
let loose in Bangkok, Manila, or Honolulu for rest and recreation, but
not back to the US mainland. There's talk now that the soldiers assigned
to Iraq could be sent to Europe instead for their breaks, rather than
back to the United States where a reunion with their families could be
more painful.
The plane I took from Baltimore was headed for Detroit, a Northwest
Airlines hub where people connect to other flights. As we were about to
land, the stewardess announced that the plane was packed with soldiers
on furlough, all heading for home. She asked passengers to give them a
round of applause.
I clapped, too, thinking of Castillo and the Pinoy at Baltimore's
airport, wishing them well-them and their fellow soldiers, their
families and friends. I hope, too, that someday soon, they'll be able to
come home from the war, and not have to go back.
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