The Price of Freedom

There's an e-mail making the rounds that's headline is something like Photos Too Graphic For The NY Times. It shows scenes from Baghdad that the NY Times allegedly refused to print - fluffy pictures of soldiers with Iraqi kids and puppies and peace signs and all that stuff. Really, as a piece of propoganda it was brilliant. As a focus on reality, however, don't make me gag.

I was in the military and I will not argue with the intent of the photos. Most people in the military fall into one of two categories - young kids who don't know any better (and there are a lot of them, myself included at the time) and down to earth died in the wool Americans. These people are the ones who are usually in charge. Despite what you see in the movies, they do not want to rush off to war. They do not want to kill everyone they see. The taste and smell of blood doesn't excite them. To them, they have a very important job to do, and they do it. They make the sacrifices that keep the world free.

I have no problem with these pictures. I believe that our soldiers are over there talking with kids and petting puppies and making peace and freedom available to anyone who wants it. But I also know that there is killing go on. Ours and theirs. Dead bodies everywhere. Don't let the fuzzy picture make you feel good. We're killing. They're killing. The streets are filled with blood. Fuzzy puppies and blood.

The latest insurgent tactic is to break into some Iraqi's home, point guns at a man's family, and force him to go out on the street with a cell phone and call them when a US convoy approaches. As soon as the call goes through, the insurgents set off the roadside bomb that kills the Americans and then flee. The other day a kid I know was told to take out a man with a cell phone. This innocent Iraqi was standing on the corner, his finger about to dial the connection that would get this convoy attacked. This kid had no other option but to unload on this poor man with the machine gun. The man didn't stand a chance. Later, after an exhaustive door to door search, they found the man's family - his wife and two kids lying in pools of blood, a neat bullet in each of their foreheads. This is the price of failure in Iraq. But it is also the price of success.

These images of carnage and human degeredation are nothing new. Whenever and wherever wars are fought, the stories are always the same. Clausewitz wisely said that War should be the Last Step in Diplomacy. No matter how much rah rah victory we see, no matter how much shock and awe, it ultimately boils down to men killing other men. Blood flows. People die. Young men are forever scarred, no matter who wins and who dies.

I understand the need for war. We must fight for the good of all, and occassionaly, when all else fails, that fight must be done with armed conflict. But before we are all so willing to send our men and women into these conflicts, before we are willing to sacrifice their blood for freedom, we should pause and remember what it is that we're doing. Children need people to teach them soccer. Puppies need petting. Peace signs need waving. But what is the cost? What is the price of freedom?