My students was killed in Iraq last week. I had him in 2001, as a 9th grader. He was a really nice young man. I had not been in touch with him since his graduation, but I thought about him once in a while, when I looked through the Yearbook, or when I spoke about that group with other teachers.
He was 22 years old. He had a daughter and a wife. His father said his son felt that he went there for the right reason. Whether or not it was the one he was told, he felt he would find the right reason.
Now he is dead. I hope, for his sake, he found the reason he was there so he can rest in peace.
Our soldiers are mostly noble young men and women. Our military leaders, I have to believe, are mostly noble men and women who care about their troops. For evidence of this, I look at the expressions and grimaces of General Casey, as he spewed forth what I saw as lies on the Sunday talk shows this past weekend. For evidence that we have noble men and women I look at Jack Murtha, as he says with perfect clarity that the Generals have been telling him this war is a disaster and that our young people, our future, are caught up in this disaster. For evidence, I look at Chuck Hagel, as he said this weekend that Iraq has been in a Civil War for 6 months, and that the Generals have been telling him this for that long.
I think the military knows that they have been misused, that the nobility of their soldiers has been taken advantage of by a band of imcompetent opportunists. But their hands are tied, so they have had to do the only thing they could do: confide in trusted Congress men and women, who are then excoriated by the right wing noise machine. The message is getting out, but sand is still being thrown in the eyes of Americans by Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld.
I feel that I did not do enough. I feel that I did not march against the war, that I was taken in as well by Condi Rice's "mushroom cloud over one of our cities." I feel that if I had not been so blinded by my hatred of those who were responsible for 9/11, I would have seen the lies clearly, all of us would have, and 50 million of us would have marched against the war, turning the tide of public opinion.
My student cannot come back. I cannot undo my mistakes. I certainly cannot undo the mistakes of those in charge of our foreign policy. But what I can do is to continue to speak out, not give in to the despair that this administration causes me to feel at times. I will be strong and I will speak out even more against the lies, and the manipulations and the continued useless loss of life.
That is all I can do right now. May this soldier, and all of the rest of those lost, rest in peace.