Note: The following article was originally published on the Millennial Veteran Project blog, a site that, for various reasons, is no longer operational.
On August 30, 2013, the Department of Defense announced the
death of a soldier who was supporting Operation Enduring Freedom. His name was Staff Sergeant (SSG) Michael H.
Ollis, and he was a native of Staten Island, New York. SSG Ollis died of wounds sustained when
insurgents attacked his unit with an improvised explosive device, small arms,
and indirect fire. He was 24 years old.
SSG Ollis’ family will now undergo the heartbreaking process
of burying their beloved son, which will undoubtedly be followed by many years
of questioning what could have been (and should have been), had things turned
out differently. Yet, the average
American citizen is unlikely to know SSG Ollis’ name. In fact, some Americans are unaware that we’re
still at war in Afghanistan. Nothing
could be further from the truth, and yet the latest and greatest Hollywood
scandal will undoubtedly get far more news coverage than the most recent
American casualty from Operation Enduring Freedom.
Why is that? Why do
we care more about things like the birth of the royal baby than we do about the
loss of American lives? Have we become
so emotionally desensitized that unless a record-breaking number of Soldiers
die in one catastrophic incident (see,
e.g. “Portraits of Lives Lost:
Thirty U.S. troops were killed Aug. 6, 2011, when their Chinook
helicopter was shot down in Afghanistan,” available
at http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/portraits-of-lives-lost/2011/08/09/gIQAWxmF5I_gallery.html#photo=1),
we barely bat an eye and mindlessly continue on about our day? Do we really need another World War II with
its staggering loss of lives to feel anything resembling remorse and sadness these
days? Or will we be content to simply
continue to push aside the more difficult and morally problematic issues until,
after over twelve years, the war in Afghanistan is officially over?
And will it ever really be over? For those of us who have already lost more
than we could have imagined, the war will continue in some way or another for
many years to come. Combat operations
may end, but the questions that continue to haunt us will lurk persistently
just below the surface, always threatening to rear their ugly heads at the most
inconvenient of times. As a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan and the widow
of a Soldier who returned home from Iraq in a flag-draped casket, I often
struggle with the ultimate conundrum: Are
we simply giving up after twelve hard fought years? And if so, what does that mean about the
sacrifices we have made? Should we just give up and walk away after attempting to
eradicate terrorism from that area of the world for more than a decade?
Or should we continue to stick it out until we’ve achieved
“mission success?” And what does that
even mean in these asymmetric conflicts against non-state actors? On the one hand, mission success, however you
choose to define it, is the quintessential foundation of my military career; on
the other, I intimately understand the finality and loss that comes with death.
It’s permanent in a way that nothing else is in this world. I’ve seen one too many heartbroken families
whose lives are forever changed when they are suddenly forced to continue on without
the husband, wife, father, mother, son or daughter who made their life worth
living. For those of us who find
ourselves facing this unthinkable reality, the question we avoid at all costs and
can’t help but come back to over and over again is relatively simple: why?
Given this conundrum, you might imagine how I felt when an
article was published this summer regarding the contemplated immediate withdrawal
of U.S. troops from Afghanistan (see
“U.S. Considers Faster Pullout in Afghanistan,” available at http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/09/world/asia/frustrated-obama-considers-full-troop-withdrawal-from-afghanistan.html?_r=0). I looked around with a momentary sense of
panic and thought, “Wait! We’re still here, and there is still so much to be
done!” However, my next thought, was, “well, actually, maybe withdrawal would
be for the best.”
Like many, my feelings are incredibly mixed. Like any trained
soldier, I never want to leave a problem unsolved, but I wonder how much more
good can come from our continued presence in Afghanistan. Further complicating my views is the fact
that my husband, Jon, was killed in Iraq, and I served there as a Platoon
Leader a year later. In 2011, we officially
withdrew from the region, leaving many of the same problems we’d faced during
my tour still unresolved. As I watched
the video footage of the last of our vehicles crossing the Iraq border into
Kuwait, I was filled with an unsettling feeling of disappointment and relief –
disappointment at the fact that we’d abandoned the mission my husband died for,
and relief at the fact that it was all finally over.
Barely two years later, much of Iraq has returned to its former
chaotic state of violence. Just recently
I read an article that included a photo of the marketplace we patrolled through
every day in Mahmudiyah, Iraq - it used to be relatively safe and secure, but had
recently been targeted by several suicide bombs and looks to be an absolute catastrophe
once again. (see “Deadly Blasts Rock Southern Iraqi Cities,” available at http://www.aljazeera.com/news/middleeast/2013/06/201361673910345481.html). It makes me wonder what, if anything, we’ve
learned over this past decade, and whether things will be different this time
around given the recent rumblings about contemplated military intervention in
Syria. Many political commentators are
comparing the current situation to the one we faced years ago in deciding
whether to invade Iraq. I recall all too
vividly how it felt as an eighteen-year-old ROTC Cadet to witness the symbolic toppling
of Saddam Hussein’s infamous statue on the news – at the time, my friends and I
celebrated what we thought was a quick and easy victory. But that was before the human cost of the
decision to invade hit all too close to home, and my present-day feelings are far
less celebratory. This time, my instinct
is to shudder when I think about the potential consequences of getting involved
in another conflict before we’ve figured out how to “end” the current one. Perhaps Plato had it right – only the dead
have seen the end of war, especially when the war never truly ends.
In 1963, country music singer Skeeter Davis released a song entitled
“The End of the World.” Among many unanswerable
questions, Skeeter asked why: “Why
does my heart go on beating? Why do
these eyes of mine cry? Don’t they know
it’s the end of the world? It ended when
you said goodbye.” As Americans, we
love a good story with a nice, neat, happy ending, but for those of us who
never got to say goodbye, the realities of life are messy, and the whys will always remain. History will undoubtedly offer many
explanations for the decisions that were made, but no explanation can justify the
loss of what cannot be replaced. The
catastrophic losses we suffered during World War II are often equated with a
righteous victory, but for those families directly affected by those losses,
there will always be questions like the ones SSG Ollis’ family will ask
themselves in the days and years ahead: Why my son?
Why my husband? Why my father? Although times may have changed, the answer
is still the same: there is no
answer. There never is.
