thedrifter
01-08-06, 07:03 AM
We talk. They fought.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
HARRY ESTEVE
The Oregonian
In the political uproar over the war in Iraq, it's easy to miss the voices of those who served there.
Yet some of the grittiest, most clear-eyed assessments can be heard from the soldiers, Marines and airmen who saw the war as it happened and came home to talk about it.
For that kind of ground-level view, The Oregonian interviewed a Marine who was awarded a Bronze Star after an intense firefight during the 2004 occupation of Fallujah; an Oregon Air National Guard major who left his job as mayor of Monmouth to direct airstrikes against insurgents near the Syrian border; and an Army reservist who interrupted his business management career to walk the streets of Mosul with a backpack full of cash, paying Iraqi contractors to rebuild schools and bridges.
The questions were basic: What did you do in Iraq, and do you think it did any good -- that it helped end terrorism and make the country a more stable, more secure place?
The answers, which lie at the heart of the nation-splitting debate over U.S. policy, are more complex.
The three witnessed violence, up close and from afar, and saw the reaction in the faces of Iraqis and on nightly newscasts beamed around the world. They participated in hands-on humanitarian and rebuilding efforts. They encountered joyful hospitality, open hostility, desperation and hope.
Their conclusions reflect the same range of pride, conflict and anger that grips the nation about the war.
Marine Staff Sgt. Dennis Nash
If Marine Staff Sgt. Dennis Nash has any doubts, they don't crack the rigid, all-business expression on his face.
After two tours of duty in Iraq, both of which involved intense combat, he came home more certain than ever that the war not only is justified but also is making the post-9/11 world safer.
"If we weren't dealing with the terrorists and insurgents and making a stand over there," he says, "it would only be a matter of time before we start seeing the exact same kind of attacks on a regular basis right here in the United States."
Nash, 30, now a recruiter at a Marine center in Beaverton, led a squad of Marines into some of the fiercest battles of the war. He first went to Iraq in April 2003, less than a month after the initial invasion, as a member of the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit, based at Camp LeJeune, N.C. He went back in June 2004 with Charlie Co., 1st Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment.
"I pretty much begged to go with the next designated unit," Nash says. It was dangerous, thrilling and, he believes, necessary duty.
Nash fits the Marine image impeccably. Most of his sentences end in "sir," a clutch of medals gleams from his freshly pressed uniform, he makes eye contact with a fiery stare.
On Nov. 9, 2004, his platoon swarmed into Fallujah, a stronghold for the insurgency. What happened next earned Nash the Bronze Star for heroism.
Nash's squad "came under withering insurgent machine gun fire, cutting them off from the rest of the platoon," according to the medal citation. Nash led his men to safety in an empty building. "From the roof of the building, he spotted an enemy sniper, engaged him with accurate fire and eliminated him."
Taking Fallujah, Nash says, was a huge move forward in the war. Insurgents lost a base of operations, and, once rebuilding got under way, local residents regained confidence that their lives would improve, he says.
"It saved a lot of lives, both Iraqi civilian and American."
Apart from the combat missions, one of Nash's most vivid memories is seeing a young girl, barefoot, crossing frozen ground to find drinking water for her family. Nash, who has four daughters, ordered his troops to bring supplies to her family, who were huddled in a two-room apartment.
"They tried to invite us all in for tea," he says, emphasizing that it was common reaction among Iraqi people. "I wish the press would show more about the positive side."
Air Force Maj. Paul Evans
The war should never have been fought and has gone badly from Day One, says Air Force Maj. Paul Evans, a disarmingly candid expert in aircraft tracking systems.
Yet, Evans, part of the Oregon Air Guard's 728th Air Control Squadron, served voluntarily and without complaint when asked -- twice. His unit tracked tactical aircraft in Iraq and directed airstrikes from an outpost in Baghdad.
"My job as air battle manager is to break things and kill people," he says. He says his unit did both with all the efficiency modern weaponry offers.
The effect? Not much good that Evans can discern, making clear that he keeps his opinions separate from the National Guard. What he saw was a further descent into chaos and unchecked violence, and a nation that poses more of a threat now than it did before the war.
Evans, 35, views the war from two perspectives -- as a civic leader, based on his two terms as mayor of Monmouth, a small college town west of Salem, and as a warrior, with 13 years in the military.
He saw missed opportunities daily, whether it was the failure to protect key power and water sources or treating locals with suspicion or derision rather than respect.
Evans knows the Persian Gulf well. Shortly before the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, he was stationed in Kuwait, monitoring air traffic over the Iraq border, where U.S. jets patrolled the "no-fly zone."
"I can tell you without a doubt, Iraq was contained," Evans says, despite President Bush's assertion that it had become the new frontline of the war on terror. "I'm actually offended by that because I spent a good part of my life working to make sure that wasn't the case."
Invading was the first major error, Evans says. The next came when the Pentagon set troop levels at about half the early recommendations of 300,000 or so.
The smaller force was enough to rout Saddam Hussein and his Republican Guard, but not nearly enough to provide the broad-based security that would have stifled the insurgency, restored power, water and other basics and kept Iraq from tumbling into the violent nightmare it has become.
"You can't have democracy without security. But security doesn't mean Abrams tanks in the streets," Evans says. "It means Mom and Dad being able to go to the grocery store without being bombed."
Army Maj. Dylan Moxness
It was an unusual order: Fill every public swimming pool in Mosul. Army Maj. Dylan Moxness rushed to carry it out.
A few days later, crowds of Iraqis caught a break from the relentless desert sun and played in the sparkling water. Moxness and the rest of his civil affairs unit kept a low profile, allowing local leaders to take credit for the improvement.
"Our mission was to restore normal life so people would feel Iraqi leaders were doing their best," says Moxness, a reservist from Portland who normally spends his day as a project leader with Point B, a business consulting company.
Moxness, 37, offers mixed emotions on the war's progress. The U.S. military has done an incredible job of restoring order in the face of extreme danger, he says, but the pace has been far slower than he anticipated.
Media and political attention has focused on training Iraqi armed forces to take over security operations, but that's only part of the national building effort, Moxness says. Another is getting everyday Iraqis to trust a government after the corruption and brutality of the previous regime.
Moxness was a civil affairs officer with a background in project management. His skills were in high demand in Iraq. His deployment began in September 2004 and lasted about nine months.
He oversaw various stages of more than 200 projects, ranging from building bridges to making day-after repairs to a mosque damaged during a rocket attack. The cost was about $18 million, and the currency was U.S. greenbacks.
"It was all cash money," Moxness says. No other form of payment worked. "That was one of the more unusual aspects of the work -- finding myself walking down the street with a backpack that had $500,000 in it."
Moxness, who was quartered in the kitchen of one of Saddam's abandoned palaces, says he was allowed to hire only Iraqi contractors. He would make arrangements through an interpreter, agree on a price and hand over thick packets of $100 bills.
"Is it possible that insurgents were on the job? It's possible. We felt the effectiveness of the work we were doing outweighed the fact that an insurgent might get a few dollars," Moxness says. Before the money started flowing for construction projects, "people were getting paid to shoot at American soldiers."
U.S. dollars also paid for rucksacks full of school supplies for Iraqi children. And they were used as an ad-hoc insurance fund, in which Iraqi families were paid for deaths, injuries or property damage the U.S. military caused.
One of his bigger projects was rebuilding a police station that had been bombed and burned. But the success was short-lived, Moxness says.
"It was car-bombed the day I left."
Harry Esteve: 503-221-8226; harryesteve@news.oregonian.com
Ellie
Sunday, January 08, 2006
HARRY ESTEVE
The Oregonian
In the political uproar over the war in Iraq, it's easy to miss the voices of those who served there.
Yet some of the grittiest, most clear-eyed assessments can be heard from the soldiers, Marines and airmen who saw the war as it happened and came home to talk about it.
For that kind of ground-level view, The Oregonian interviewed a Marine who was awarded a Bronze Star after an intense firefight during the 2004 occupation of Fallujah; an Oregon Air National Guard major who left his job as mayor of Monmouth to direct airstrikes against insurgents near the Syrian border; and an Army reservist who interrupted his business management career to walk the streets of Mosul with a backpack full of cash, paying Iraqi contractors to rebuild schools and bridges.
The questions were basic: What did you do in Iraq, and do you think it did any good -- that it helped end terrorism and make the country a more stable, more secure place?
The answers, which lie at the heart of the nation-splitting debate over U.S. policy, are more complex.
The three witnessed violence, up close and from afar, and saw the reaction in the faces of Iraqis and on nightly newscasts beamed around the world. They participated in hands-on humanitarian and rebuilding efforts. They encountered joyful hospitality, open hostility, desperation and hope.
Their conclusions reflect the same range of pride, conflict and anger that grips the nation about the war.
Marine Staff Sgt. Dennis Nash
If Marine Staff Sgt. Dennis Nash has any doubts, they don't crack the rigid, all-business expression on his face.
After two tours of duty in Iraq, both of which involved intense combat, he came home more certain than ever that the war not only is justified but also is making the post-9/11 world safer.
"If we weren't dealing with the terrorists and insurgents and making a stand over there," he says, "it would only be a matter of time before we start seeing the exact same kind of attacks on a regular basis right here in the United States."
Nash, 30, now a recruiter at a Marine center in Beaverton, led a squad of Marines into some of the fiercest battles of the war. He first went to Iraq in April 2003, less than a month after the initial invasion, as a member of the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit, based at Camp LeJeune, N.C. He went back in June 2004 with Charlie Co., 1st Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment.
"I pretty much begged to go with the next designated unit," Nash says. It was dangerous, thrilling and, he believes, necessary duty.
Nash fits the Marine image impeccably. Most of his sentences end in "sir," a clutch of medals gleams from his freshly pressed uniform, he makes eye contact with a fiery stare.
On Nov. 9, 2004, his platoon swarmed into Fallujah, a stronghold for the insurgency. What happened next earned Nash the Bronze Star for heroism.
Nash's squad "came under withering insurgent machine gun fire, cutting them off from the rest of the platoon," according to the medal citation. Nash led his men to safety in an empty building. "From the roof of the building, he spotted an enemy sniper, engaged him with accurate fire and eliminated him."
Taking Fallujah, Nash says, was a huge move forward in the war. Insurgents lost a base of operations, and, once rebuilding got under way, local residents regained confidence that their lives would improve, he says.
"It saved a lot of lives, both Iraqi civilian and American."
Apart from the combat missions, one of Nash's most vivid memories is seeing a young girl, barefoot, crossing frozen ground to find drinking water for her family. Nash, who has four daughters, ordered his troops to bring supplies to her family, who were huddled in a two-room apartment.
"They tried to invite us all in for tea," he says, emphasizing that it was common reaction among Iraqi people. "I wish the press would show more about the positive side."
Air Force Maj. Paul Evans
The war should never have been fought and has gone badly from Day One, says Air Force Maj. Paul Evans, a disarmingly candid expert in aircraft tracking systems.
Yet, Evans, part of the Oregon Air Guard's 728th Air Control Squadron, served voluntarily and without complaint when asked -- twice. His unit tracked tactical aircraft in Iraq and directed airstrikes from an outpost in Baghdad.
"My job as air battle manager is to break things and kill people," he says. He says his unit did both with all the efficiency modern weaponry offers.
The effect? Not much good that Evans can discern, making clear that he keeps his opinions separate from the National Guard. What he saw was a further descent into chaos and unchecked violence, and a nation that poses more of a threat now than it did before the war.
Evans, 35, views the war from two perspectives -- as a civic leader, based on his two terms as mayor of Monmouth, a small college town west of Salem, and as a warrior, with 13 years in the military.
He saw missed opportunities daily, whether it was the failure to protect key power and water sources or treating locals with suspicion or derision rather than respect.
Evans knows the Persian Gulf well. Shortly before the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, he was stationed in Kuwait, monitoring air traffic over the Iraq border, where U.S. jets patrolled the "no-fly zone."
"I can tell you without a doubt, Iraq was contained," Evans says, despite President Bush's assertion that it had become the new frontline of the war on terror. "I'm actually offended by that because I spent a good part of my life working to make sure that wasn't the case."
Invading was the first major error, Evans says. The next came when the Pentagon set troop levels at about half the early recommendations of 300,000 or so.
The smaller force was enough to rout Saddam Hussein and his Republican Guard, but not nearly enough to provide the broad-based security that would have stifled the insurgency, restored power, water and other basics and kept Iraq from tumbling into the violent nightmare it has become.
"You can't have democracy without security. But security doesn't mean Abrams tanks in the streets," Evans says. "It means Mom and Dad being able to go to the grocery store without being bombed."
Army Maj. Dylan Moxness
It was an unusual order: Fill every public swimming pool in Mosul. Army Maj. Dylan Moxness rushed to carry it out.
A few days later, crowds of Iraqis caught a break from the relentless desert sun and played in the sparkling water. Moxness and the rest of his civil affairs unit kept a low profile, allowing local leaders to take credit for the improvement.
"Our mission was to restore normal life so people would feel Iraqi leaders were doing their best," says Moxness, a reservist from Portland who normally spends his day as a project leader with Point B, a business consulting company.
Moxness, 37, offers mixed emotions on the war's progress. The U.S. military has done an incredible job of restoring order in the face of extreme danger, he says, but the pace has been far slower than he anticipated.
Media and political attention has focused on training Iraqi armed forces to take over security operations, but that's only part of the national building effort, Moxness says. Another is getting everyday Iraqis to trust a government after the corruption and brutality of the previous regime.
Moxness was a civil affairs officer with a background in project management. His skills were in high demand in Iraq. His deployment began in September 2004 and lasted about nine months.
He oversaw various stages of more than 200 projects, ranging from building bridges to making day-after repairs to a mosque damaged during a rocket attack. The cost was about $18 million, and the currency was U.S. greenbacks.
"It was all cash money," Moxness says. No other form of payment worked. "That was one of the more unusual aspects of the work -- finding myself walking down the street with a backpack that had $500,000 in it."
Moxness, who was quartered in the kitchen of one of Saddam's abandoned palaces, says he was allowed to hire only Iraqi contractors. He would make arrangements through an interpreter, agree on a price and hand over thick packets of $100 bills.
"Is it possible that insurgents were on the job? It's possible. We felt the effectiveness of the work we were doing outweighed the fact that an insurgent might get a few dollars," Moxness says. Before the money started flowing for construction projects, "people were getting paid to shoot at American soldiers."
U.S. dollars also paid for rucksacks full of school supplies for Iraqi children. And they were used as an ad-hoc insurance fund, in which Iraqi families were paid for deaths, injuries or property damage the U.S. military caused.
One of his bigger projects was rebuilding a police station that had been bombed and burned. But the success was short-lived, Moxness says.
"It was car-bombed the day I left."
Harry Esteve: 503-221-8226; harryesteve@news.oregonian.com
Ellie