A Win for the Boys
by Luciano D'Orazio

But the last thing I want to do is add another Weekly Standard-esque hoopla piece to the already gigantic pile of pro-war commentary. The minutia of resolutions, veto powers, inspections and summits is irrelevant now. Another diatribe about national sovereignty and homeland security would just be repeating the same tired phrases.

Instead, I'd like to introduce a young man. His name is Lance Corporal Joe A. Jamaica, USMC, and he is stationed with his communications battalion in Kuwait. Joe, a strapping lad of 19 years, also happens to be my cousin. He's practically a little brother to me. His story, and the stories of so many like him, underscore why we must fight and win this war.

The depot in Amityville, N.Y. was a madhouse the Saturday he shipped out. A reserve station for each of the services, the depot filled with uniformed men and women scurrying around in the last hours with their families. Joe, as usual, was barely packed. It took some ingenious maneuvering and muscle power from his fellow Marines to actually get everything stowed. Most of the families were weepy and openly frustrated at the situation. But Joe and his fellow Marines, although blubbery upon finally saying goodbye, were firm in the understanding that this was their job. It's what they were trained to do, not to run drills on some stateside base in the middle of nowhere. Many of these folks were not too removed from basic training at Parris Island, so it could be chalked up to the psychological rebuilding process. But many in the unit have been on the job for quite a few years, and their ardor is by no means diminished.

I was thrilled to receive e-mails from Joe after his base camp was set up in Kuwait. From what I gathered, it looked like the worst combat his data communications platoon would see would be on the latest version of Grand Theft Auto on the unit's Playstation console. The sandstorms that ravaged the region blew down his tent so many times, his mission seemed more comic opera than war. We traded the latest French jokes and barracks humor, and I asked how he was doing, what he needed and such.

The night the war began, I shot a quick e-mail wishing his unit good luck. He replied that Iraq would be receiving a fate "worse than hell," and that failure was not an option. When I wrote that Iraq was launching missile attacks on our positions in Kuwait, he responded that camp life through the day got "interesting," calling the numerous bunker and gas mask drills "the little games we play."

This flippant attitude might seem shocking to some. To many of my anti-war friends, it translates into the typical robotic attitude the generals look for in cannon fodder. But I understand it differently. I get it, and I know that this very attitude is a reason why this war is so necessary.

Deep down, no one, not even the most gung-ho of servicemen, wants war to happen. It is the ultimate waste of humanity, a bloodbath which no rational human being really wants. To those servicemen like Joe, who joined up in a time when war was not on the horizon, the last place where they had pictured themselves was Kuwait, or worse, on the march north toward Baghdad. For some of them, the armed forces were a way to get career skills, to join something meaningful, to get out of a bad situation. But when reality sets in, what can they do? They can't shriek and cower and claw at the railings of the local base begging not to go. They have to, so they look at it the way they look at any job. It is something they have to do, and that's it.

Joe, and his unit, will probably not see combat. Many units like his, support and communications battalions and medical units, will not see combat. Deep down, I have a feeling that beyond the rhetoric, beyond the boosterism among the troops, many do not want to engage the enemy in a life-threatening situation. Even though they are well-trained and ready to go, when given the choice, I'm not sure if many wouldn't rather go home than head toward the enemy.

Combat, even to the most battle-hardened of people, changes a person's character, brutalizes it, calluses it to human suffering. Joe is a sweet kid, and I don't want him changed into some mindless killer. But if he has to engage the enemy, better now, once and for all, than now for the short term, then maybe later in five years. This conflict won't stop all war, but stopping Hussein will remove a festering wound that far too many of our men and women have to face. This has to be the last job here, for their sakes. For the sake of their families, many of whom don't share their enthusiasm for the war. For the sake of the boys like Joe, young, raw soldiers who, God willing, will never engage in combat. For the sake of the young guys at the front, who are hoping that this war is their last, that they will never see such savagery again.

I know we will fight hard, and we will eventually be victorious. But even if you don't agree with the war, we need to support our men and women that are over there. Send a letter. Drop an e-mail. Tell them you care. Make sure they're appreciated. This war, as it progresses, is less about us, and much more about the boys in the desert. Best of luck to them, and may this battle be the last.

E-mail Luciano D'Orazio at loudogs1@aol.com.