thedrifter
12-03-06, 06:34 PM
Killed in Iraq, Paterson native is not even counted
Sunday, December 3, 2006
By MIKE KELLY
RECORD COLUMNIST
Ibrahim Sara of Paterson was killed in combat last month while serving his country on the front lines in Iraq. But you won't find his name on the official list of American war casualties.
To the Pentagon, Sara's death basically never happened.
Sara, 32, was a civilian Arabic translator, but his war assignment was hardly trouble-free – or confined to the safety of a well-guarded rear echelon base.
When Sara died on Nov. 2, he was riding on a nighttime patrol in a humvee with a U.S. Marine unit in Iraq's contentious Al Anbar province. A roadside bomb exploded and destroyed the humvee, killing all five occupants, Sara and four Marines.
The list of the war dead for that day includes the four Marines in the humvee. But Sara's name is nowhere to be found.
It's as if he wasn't even there.
In fact, the Pentagon doesn't even keep statistics of civilians killed in Iraq, even when those civilians are like Ibrahim Sara and assigned to military units. For the Iraq War, it's the job of the U.S. Department of Labor to keep tabs on civilian casualties. And even then, there is only the sparsest of details.
As of last week, the Labor Department reported that more than 665 civilians under contract with the U.S. government had been killed in Iraq. About 40 percent were American citizens.
If you include those statistics with the Pentagon's, the number of U.S. casualties jumps substantially higher than the roughly 2,900 military deaths officially cited so far in the Iraq war. But for now, civilians like Sara are the wartime equivalent of off-the-book employees – there, but not officially acknowledged.
On the front lines
The irony here is that Sara and other civilians are certainly working on the front lines. But when it comes to that most important element of wartime record-keeping – the casualty report – they disappear into a new war category of non-soldiers whose names are not officially announced among the dead. Sadly, they are unknown non-soldiers.
Not to their families, though.
Like all wars, the casualties of Iraq ripple through America one death at a time, affecting one family at a time.
So it was with the death of Ibrahim Sara.
Sara's father, Elias, and his mother, Juliet, brought their two sons and a daughter to America in 1991 from the Middle East – from a country the family still declines to name to outsiders, fearing persecution even here in America.
Unlike most residents in their former homeland, the Saras were Christians. And while they were also Arabs, they feared persecution from Muslims. America was their safe haven. After waiting years for visas, they arrived in Paterson, set down roots and became citizens.
Elias Sara, now 74 and retired, worked in the maintenance department at Paterson's St. Joseph's Hospital. Juliet, now 65 and retired, worked in the cafeteria at Passaic Technical High School.
Passaic Tech grad
Roger graduated from Passaic Tech in 1996. He initially considered joining the military, but instead became an electrician.
His desire to serve his country did not fade, though. By 2005, he was too old to enlist in the military, but not too old to sign on as a civilian translator. His pay was much higher than that of a Marine. But the danger was the same.
Ibrahim's younger brother, Roger, now 29, joined the Marines and served three tours in Iraq. For a short time, Roger and Ibrahim even lived at the same Marine base in Al Anbar province. Meanwhile, their sister, Margaret, was hardly unaware of the dangers of military life; she married an Army captain.
As Roger explained last week, the family held out hope that the Pentagon would honor his brother in some way. After all, Ibrahim Sara seemed to fit all the criteria: He was certainly assigned by the Pentagon to the military, in a war. He was even wearing a Marine uniform, along with a Marine combat helmet and body armor when he died. He didn't carry a gun, though.
Indeed, when Sara's humvee blew up, Roger Sara said he was told the Marines initially thought five Marines had been killed. All the occupants of the humvee looked alike – they all wore the same uniform.
When Ibrahim Sara's body was brought home, it was aboard a U.S. military plane with dead soldiers and Marines, in a coffin draped by a U.S. flag. But that's where his connection to the military – and the war – ended.
After Sara's coffin was carried from the plane, the flag was removed and given to representatives of Sara's employer, a San Diego-based firm under contract with the Pentagon to supply translators in Iraq.
For Sara's funeral at St. Ann Melkite Church in West Paterson, there was no trumpeter to play "Taps," no volley of rifle shots by a squad of soldiers or Marines, no U.S. flag for the coffin, not even a military honor guard to escort his coffin to the church and later to his grave at Paterson's Holy Sepulcher Cemetery.
Sara had been a member of his church's Knights of Columbus chapter. So the Knights volunteered as an honor guard.
Also, two representatives of Sara's employer, L-3 Communications, showed up. They later gave Sara's family the flag that had been on Sara's coffin aboard the military flight from Iraq. But there was no graveside ceremony in which the flag was slowly folded and presented to the family with the time-honored message from a military officer that America is grateful for Sara's service to his country.
Inhumanity of war
Looking back now, the story of the death and burial of Ibrahim Sara is one of those war stories that transcends cold casualty counts and casts a new light on how inhumane war can be.
Ibrahim Sara died for his country – and his country doesn't have the decency to honor that in some way. In an age when even the death of a dog or cat can prompt people to build a memorial, the governmental silence in the wake of Ibrahim Sara's death is a civic embarrassment.
"He was very generous and very caring," Roger Sara said the other day, thinking back on his brother. "He's the one who would try and do the right thing."
It's too bad his government can't do the same.
Mike Kelly is a Record columnist. Contact him at kellym@northjersey.com. Send comments about this column to The Record at letterstotheeditor@northjersey.com.
Ellie
Sunday, December 3, 2006
By MIKE KELLY
RECORD COLUMNIST
Ibrahim Sara of Paterson was killed in combat last month while serving his country on the front lines in Iraq. But you won't find his name on the official list of American war casualties.
To the Pentagon, Sara's death basically never happened.
Sara, 32, was a civilian Arabic translator, but his war assignment was hardly trouble-free – or confined to the safety of a well-guarded rear echelon base.
When Sara died on Nov. 2, he was riding on a nighttime patrol in a humvee with a U.S. Marine unit in Iraq's contentious Al Anbar province. A roadside bomb exploded and destroyed the humvee, killing all five occupants, Sara and four Marines.
The list of the war dead for that day includes the four Marines in the humvee. But Sara's name is nowhere to be found.
It's as if he wasn't even there.
In fact, the Pentagon doesn't even keep statistics of civilians killed in Iraq, even when those civilians are like Ibrahim Sara and assigned to military units. For the Iraq War, it's the job of the U.S. Department of Labor to keep tabs on civilian casualties. And even then, there is only the sparsest of details.
As of last week, the Labor Department reported that more than 665 civilians under contract with the U.S. government had been killed in Iraq. About 40 percent were American citizens.
If you include those statistics with the Pentagon's, the number of U.S. casualties jumps substantially higher than the roughly 2,900 military deaths officially cited so far in the Iraq war. But for now, civilians like Sara are the wartime equivalent of off-the-book employees – there, but not officially acknowledged.
On the front lines
The irony here is that Sara and other civilians are certainly working on the front lines. But when it comes to that most important element of wartime record-keeping – the casualty report – they disappear into a new war category of non-soldiers whose names are not officially announced among the dead. Sadly, they are unknown non-soldiers.
Not to their families, though.
Like all wars, the casualties of Iraq ripple through America one death at a time, affecting one family at a time.
So it was with the death of Ibrahim Sara.
Sara's father, Elias, and his mother, Juliet, brought their two sons and a daughter to America in 1991 from the Middle East – from a country the family still declines to name to outsiders, fearing persecution even here in America.
Unlike most residents in their former homeland, the Saras were Christians. And while they were also Arabs, they feared persecution from Muslims. America was their safe haven. After waiting years for visas, they arrived in Paterson, set down roots and became citizens.
Elias Sara, now 74 and retired, worked in the maintenance department at Paterson's St. Joseph's Hospital. Juliet, now 65 and retired, worked in the cafeteria at Passaic Technical High School.
Passaic Tech grad
Roger graduated from Passaic Tech in 1996. He initially considered joining the military, but instead became an electrician.
His desire to serve his country did not fade, though. By 2005, he was too old to enlist in the military, but not too old to sign on as a civilian translator. His pay was much higher than that of a Marine. But the danger was the same.
Ibrahim's younger brother, Roger, now 29, joined the Marines and served three tours in Iraq. For a short time, Roger and Ibrahim even lived at the same Marine base in Al Anbar province. Meanwhile, their sister, Margaret, was hardly unaware of the dangers of military life; she married an Army captain.
As Roger explained last week, the family held out hope that the Pentagon would honor his brother in some way. After all, Ibrahim Sara seemed to fit all the criteria: He was certainly assigned by the Pentagon to the military, in a war. He was even wearing a Marine uniform, along with a Marine combat helmet and body armor when he died. He didn't carry a gun, though.
Indeed, when Sara's humvee blew up, Roger Sara said he was told the Marines initially thought five Marines had been killed. All the occupants of the humvee looked alike – they all wore the same uniform.
When Ibrahim Sara's body was brought home, it was aboard a U.S. military plane with dead soldiers and Marines, in a coffin draped by a U.S. flag. But that's where his connection to the military – and the war – ended.
After Sara's coffin was carried from the plane, the flag was removed and given to representatives of Sara's employer, a San Diego-based firm under contract with the Pentagon to supply translators in Iraq.
For Sara's funeral at St. Ann Melkite Church in West Paterson, there was no trumpeter to play "Taps," no volley of rifle shots by a squad of soldiers or Marines, no U.S. flag for the coffin, not even a military honor guard to escort his coffin to the church and later to his grave at Paterson's Holy Sepulcher Cemetery.
Sara had been a member of his church's Knights of Columbus chapter. So the Knights volunteered as an honor guard.
Also, two representatives of Sara's employer, L-3 Communications, showed up. They later gave Sara's family the flag that had been on Sara's coffin aboard the military flight from Iraq. But there was no graveside ceremony in which the flag was slowly folded and presented to the family with the time-honored message from a military officer that America is grateful for Sara's service to his country.
Inhumanity of war
Looking back now, the story of the death and burial of Ibrahim Sara is one of those war stories that transcends cold casualty counts and casts a new light on how inhumane war can be.
Ibrahim Sara died for his country – and his country doesn't have the decency to honor that in some way. In an age when even the death of a dog or cat can prompt people to build a memorial, the governmental silence in the wake of Ibrahim Sara's death is a civic embarrassment.
"He was very generous and very caring," Roger Sara said the other day, thinking back on his brother. "He's the one who would try and do the right thing."
It's too bad his government can't do the same.
Mike Kelly is a Record columnist. Contact him at kellym@northjersey.com. Send comments about this column to The Record at letterstotheeditor@northjersey.com.
Ellie