Probably sometime in the 8th century BC, a Hebrew traveled to Nineveh – unwillingly, and not before doing everything possible to avoid the place, including a brief stint in the ancient version of a submarine.
Jonah, as you know, was not happy about going to Iraq and, after his time there, left the city bitter. In the words recorded in the Old Testament, he told God:
“I have good reason to be angry, even to death.”
Many of us who served in Iraq, even if our experience at the time was a positive one, struggle to leave it behind, and continue to have moments of being angry, or depressed. Post-traumatic stress is not some disease that some soldiers and Marines have and others don’t. I believe we all have it, only the level varies.
We all brought the war back with us, and Iraq – or Afghanistan, or Vietnam, or Korea – is part of our souls now.
For some veterans of Iraq, and I’ll speak of this because I was there, and not any of these other places – the war is a constant and dreaded nightmare, which has crippled their souls, even when they returned with their bodies intact.
For others more fortunate, and I would count myself in this group, the war is a complex bundle of emotions and memories. I was blessed to be in a small unit – the 416th Civil Affairs Battalion, stationed in Mosul, in northern Iraq – where I was able to find true comrades – men and women with whom I will forever share the bond that only war can forge.
Having been through times in which we literally had each other’s backs, and our lives really did depend on each other, I continue to treasure the soldiers with whom I served.
It may not be popular to say so, but I enjoyed my war – not the destruction of it, I fortunately never had to fire my rifle and was never in battle beyond hunkering down in the midst of the enemy’s indirect – and fortunately very poorly aimed – targeting of our camp.
I really did see the Iraqis make progress – rebuilding their nation, embracing their freedom, working together. My life depended on the trust I was able to build with Muslims – Arabs and Kurds – who also trusted their lives and their country’s future to me. I am proud to still count as friends Iraqi men and women I met there.
However, I sense at times the darkness of those consumed by post-traumatic stress. I have had nightmares, relived the horror of the most frightening moments of my tour, and felt momentary panic at a loud noise that reminded me of a mortar strike.
Especially when I think of LTC Mark Phelan, a friend of mine who died in Iraq on the day in 2004 when I returned to the United States, I feel the same pain as when I first heard that awful news.
In those fleeting moments, I can imagine how bleak is the world for those for whom these are not fleeting moments, but the echoes of repeated miseries, around which their minds are entwined, forever reliving the combat, the stress, injuries to themselves and their comrades, and the deaths of those who lives in this world they worked hardest to save.
Iraq was not the first war to cause PTSD – you can find clear descriptions of this as far back as Homer’s Iliad–but certainly Iraq and Afghanistan were the wars in which we first recognized, almost from the outset, that such phenomena were not a sign of weakness, but of our humanity.
Many years ago, British journalist Anthony Loyd wrote a book titled, “My War Gone By, I Miss It So.” The truth is that many of us who would never want to go back to Iraq, especially given the additional levels of Hell that the Islamic State has brought to that already unfortunate place, nonetheless feel as if we left a part of ourselves there.
Perhaps this is not the right phrase. I’d like to believe that instead of a part of me, lost somewhere wandering in northern Iraq, I came back as more fully human – deeply flawed, broken in some parts, stronger in others – but having felt fragility of life perhaps treasure it now more than ever.
Many of you make a point of thanking those who serve, when you learn that we are in, or have been in the military. For all of the tragedies we have seen and endured, I still believe it is we who should be thankful, for the chance to serve this nation. So, let me say to you, to everyone who has paid my salary over the last 25 years, and continues to do so, thank you for letting me be a soldier.
Indeed, for all of the words – too many, really – I have spent attempting to describe my experiences in the Iraq War, let me just ask that you consider me using the term that unites me with brothers and sisters from all wars, all nations, and all causes, the word that brings soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines together. I am a veteran, and for today, that is enough.
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Wayne Bowen is Chair of the Department of History and Director of University Studies at Southeast Missouri State University. He is also a Colonel in the US Army Reserve, and served in Iraq in 2004.
