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BY BILL CRANDELL
It breaks out this way: Some of us see the war in Iraq as
a conflict America had no choice but to enter, one that’s
going well or at least decently. Others say the nation
had to get into Iraq, but the current administration bungled
it. The third view is the war was a mistake from the get-go.
Vietnam veterans don’t fault the courage and capability
of the troops, whichever outlook they have. Nor do Iraq
veterans.
What’s striking is how these outlooks parallel
the views Vietnam veterans had about our own war while
it was on and for at least a decade afterward. The same
three-way split shaped the founding years of Vietnam Veterans
of America. VVA’s commitment that no generation of
veterans would again abandon another began with our mutual
pledge that we, as Vietnam veterans, would not break with
one another over differences in how we saw the war. You
could hear it voiced as, “Well, you’re full
of crap, but you’ve
got a right to your opinion. You fought there.”
So it
is no surprise that veterans of the fighting in Iraq and
Afghanistan have the same range of opinions about their war.
They have each other’s backs, no matter what they
think of the larger issues. Still, they split the way we
did.
To see how these viewpoints play out among the next generation
of veterans, I went in mid-March to attend Winter Soldier:
Iraq and Afghanistan, a major project of Iraq Veterans Against
the War (IVAW), held just outside Washington, D.C., in Silver
Spring, Maryland. For anyone who had attended the original
Winter Soldier Investigation in 1971—and there were
well over a dozen old Vietnam Veterans Against the War (VVAW)
hands present in Silver Spring—it was déjà vu.
The parallels were striking: scores of angry young combat
veterans denouncing the war they recently fought as a disaster
kindled by inadequate vision, with American troops wasted
while being pushed to commit acts that scarred them as much
as the outer war had.
IVAW claims more than a thousand members
who have served in the United States military since September
11, 2001, organized into 43 chapters in 48 states. Its leaders
selected 55 witnesses to testify about their experiences
in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as to present video and
photographic evidence. Veterans described the killing and
injuring of innocent civilians and unarmed combatants, racism
and sexism in the military, and their experience since coming
home. There also were panels of scholars, veterans, journalists,
and others to give context to the first-person testimony,
as well as taped interviews with Iraqi civilians.
On the first night, Kelly Dougherty,
who served two tours as a military police officer in Iraq
and is now IVAW’s
executive director, told the packed auditorium that she became
involved as one of the group’s founders “because
of the damage to Iraq and our military comrades, and to uphold
the values we went to fight for.” She described IVAW’s
goals as “ending the occupation, full compensation
for veterans, and reparations for the human and structural
harm done in Iraq.”
The mutual support between generations
of veterans was obvious. Barry Romo of VVAW, who testified
at the 1971 Winter Soldier Investigation, began his remarks
about the event’s
place in the legacy of GI resistance during wartime by saying, “How
honored we are to be here.” Born on the Fourth of July
author Ron Kovic sent the message: “It takes tremendous
courage to speak up against your country’s policies.
We are fighting for the soul of America.”
Not all veterans
agreed. A middle-aged protester slipped into the conference
on the third day, yelling, “You
guys are betraying good men.” A well-organized security
contingent provided by VVAW frog-marched him outside. Many
Vietnam veterans still feel that the 1971 Winter Soldier
Investigation demonized our generation of veterans as “baby-killers,” although
that epithet was hurled with equal venom at returning riflemen,
clerks, and chaplains as early as 1967.
The tone of the testimony
was anything but defamatory, though many of the acts veterans
described were horrific. “The
politicians and the generals have continued these occupations
to the point of breaking our soldiers and destroying our
military,” Brooklyn IVAW member Selena Coppa, a Military
Intelligence sergeant on active duty in the Army, said. “As
veterans and as patriots, many of us feel we must speak out
about our experiences in order to change current policies
and bring honor and dignity back to our military and our
country.”
Jabbar Magruder, a student at California State
University, Northridge, and a sergeant in the Army National
Guard deployed to Tikrit in 2005, put it differently. In
a panel describing rules of engagement that grew increasing
permissive until it became, in one soldier’s words,
pretty much fair game to shoot at anyone who seemed to pose
a threat, Magruder commented: “This is not a failure
of leadership. Commanders will always give troops tools to
defend themselves. The problem is the occupation.”
The witnesses, carefully screened
by IVAW to verify their credentials, presented a visually
mixed bunch. Like the returning veterans of the 1960s and
1970s, there were men with short haircuts and immaculate
shaves, and men with well-trimmed and shaggy beards, and
they wore everything from sport shirts to coats and ties.
Some displayed glittering medals on their chests, flagrantly
proud of their service despite the deeds they denounced.
One of the witnesses, Garett Reppenhagen, joined the Army
a month before the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks and became a scout-sniper
in the 2nd Battalion/63rd Armor, 1st Infantry Division, performing
missions in Diyala Province for a year. His father served
in Vietnam but didn’t talk much about it before he
died of Agent Orange-related cancer.
One story the younger
Reppenhagen told was about having to use an old M-60 machine
gun from the Vietnam War—an
ancient relic in his telling—that broke down and had
to be fired in single shots. Reppenhagen’s testimony
was not aimed at his former comrades (he was honorably discharged
in May 2005), but at the conduct of the war from the top
down. “Confusion goes on every day in Iraq,” he
reported. “We went to Iraq to defend their country,
but found we had to kill civilians to protect ourselves.
The war is the atrocity.”
You couldn’t help liking
Sergio Kochergin, a former scout-sniper in the 1st Battalion/7th
Marines. Part of the invasion force, Kochergin told me that
the rules of engagement created situations that led to inappropriate
actions, such as the order he received to shoot anybody on
the road with a bag and a shovel. “After a month and
a half, it was make your own decision.” At first, he
recalled, “the
people were incredibly nice, offered us showers. By August
we started getting IEDs.” Now studying psychology at
the University of Oregon, Kochergin has PTSD and finds the
VA not much help.
Several witnesses had photos from their
tours in Iraq that were shown on large electronic screens.
Beyond documenting their service and showing examples of
the weaponry they described, the images revealed the terrifying
bleakness of the desert and mountains. Whatever you thought
of our generation’s
war and this one, you couldn’t duck the conclusion
that Iraq is Vietnam without water.
Screaming Eagles trooper
Dave Adams, who was in the invasion, remembered little girls
tossing small purple flowers—for
about two weeks, while city workers went without pay and
businesses were shut in areas closed for security. Then the
sniper fire began.
Adams blamed the shift on top leaders “in
stuffy Pentagon rooms” who didn’t understand
the Iraqis or what their lives were like. After coming home,
Adams was hostile to protestors until a buddy called to tell
him about several friends who had been killed. Now an active
antiwar organizer, he told me: “I’ll be doing
this the rest of my life, I’m sure of it.”
Captain
Luis Montalvan, the highest-ranking IVAW member — having
served in the Army for 17 years — testified about accountability
and corruption in the military. Montalvan has been diagnosed
with PTSD and is currently struggling to receive services
and support from the VA.
James Gilligan’s voice broke
as he described watching fire being directed into an Afghan
village. Jason Lemieux, a former Marine sergeant who served
three tours in Iraq from 2003-06, participated in the invasion
and march to Baghdad. He said he “fought in a war that
was already lost.” Joshua
Casteel served eight years in the Army, including a tour
as an Arabic linguist and interrogator at Abu Ghraib.
When
I left late Saturday afternoon, the other side was represented
on the street by Eagles Up, which describes itself as “part
of the pro-war lobby.” Five white-haired men and a
middle-aged African-American woman with their backs to the
Winter Soldier Investigation held several flags—The
Stars and Stripes, Marine Corps, Navy—and signs that
said “Honk for victory.” The drive-by commitment
was friendly.
The next morning it drizzled, and the sunshine
patriots were gone.
William F. Crandell has been a veterans advocate
and writer since returning from service as an infantry platoon
leader in Vietnam. He joined Vietnam Veterans of America
in 1983 while completing his doctorate in 20th century American
history. Crandell recently retired from VA’s Office
of Inspector General.
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2011, Vietnam Veterans of America. All Rights Reserved. 8719 Colesville Road, Suite 100, Silver Spring, MD 20910