An occasional series where we take a took at some of the best war reporting to come out of Iraq and Afghanistan.
Today we're taking at look at a New York Times article written by C.J. Chivers around the time Donald Rumsfeld resigned from office. Chivers, a former marine, is able to capture the mood and dialog of a Marine infantry squad in a simple and straight forward manner. He let's the marines do the talking, and in doing so offers an ironic depiction of how some grunts relate to their leaders.
The November 2006 piece occurs as Chivers is embedded with the squad in Zagarit, Iraq. They have been sleeping in the house of a local Iraqi man, Hashim al-Menti, who sees on the television that Rumsfeld has resigned from his position as Secretary of Defense. He informs the squads sergeant:
The sergeant went upstairs to tell his marines, just as he had informed them the day before that the Republican Party
had lost control of the House of Representatives and that Congress was
in the midst of sweeping change. Mr. Menti had told them that, too.“Rumsfeld’s out,” he said to five marines sprawled with rifles on the cold floor.
Lance Cpl. James L. Davis Jr. looked up from his cigarette. “Who’s Rumsfeld?” he asked.
Chivers then makes the observation that often it is the grunts in the field with the most to loose, who are often the most apolitical -- the Marine Corps has a job to do. Perhaps in the future these young men will come to find interest in politics, but not right now in Zagarit, Iraq. One marine gave Chivers his opinion on how this all works:
Another marine, Lance Cpl. Patrick S. Maguire, said the decisions
that mattered here, inside Company F, Second Battalion, Eighth Marines,
were much more important to them than those made in the Pentagon back
home.
There are daily, dangerous questions: When to go on
patrol, when to come back, which route to take down a road, which
weapon to carry, and, at this moment, which watch each marine would
stand, crouched up on the roof, in the cold wind, exposed to sniper
fire.
His grandfather fought at Iwo Jima, he said, and his
father was a marine in Vietnam. This was his second tour in Iraq.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “Someone points a finger at you, and you
go.”
“The chain of command?” he added. “You know how high I
know? My battalion commander is Lt. Col. DeTreux. That’s how high I
know.”
In contrast to the marines, Chivers presents us with Mr. Menti, the owner of the house who discusses the greater consequences of Rumsfeld's resignation on Iraq.
[Mr. Menti] looked at Sergeant McKinnon, who is younger than many of his 14 children. He was trying to draw him out.
“If American Army came here for three months, four months, O.K.” Mr. Menti said. “But now is four years.”
If
there were no American military presence in Iraq, he said, there would
be no insurgents. One serves as a magnet for the other.
Mr. Menti
spoke to the sergeant as if he were an American diplomat, as if he had
some influence over the broad sweeps of American foreign policy. The
sergeant remained quiet and polite.
It is a surreal experience to live through a major news story, seeing it reported and learning more than you even knew being there. As a grunt, all you know is what your chain of command tells you, and what you see with your own eyes. If Rumsfeld's resignation were to have an affect on Iraq, it surely wouldn't be seen by these young marines. Their reaction to the news offers up an important thing to remember: while American soldiers may be on your television screens every night, they are alone in a strange country where the historical significance of their presence unimportant.
The article's conclusion highlights just that point:
Up on the roof, Lance Corporal Maguire mused about the news.
Whatever Mr. Rumsfeld’s resignation might eventually mean, it did not
matter here yet, and it would not keep them alive tonight.
Another marine, Lance Cpl. Randall D. Webb, was scanning traffic
through his rifle scope, worried that they had been spotted and the
insurgents would soon know where they were.
“I think they see us,” he said.
“Man, they all see us,” Lance Corporal Maguire said, and lighted another cigarette.
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