5 years later, lives are forever changed
March 19, 2008 6:00 AM

NEW BEDFORD — America had the jitters in the late winter of 2003. More than a year and a half had passed since the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and the drumbeat of war coming out of Washington was growing louder.

It had been more than a year since President Bush delivered his famous "Axis of Evil" State of the Union speech, singling out Iraq, Iran and North Korea, and vowing that "we will not permit the world's most dangerous regimes to threaten us with the world's most destructive weapons," though none of them had played a role in 9/11.

The previous June, speaking at the West Point military academy, the president announced his new defense doctrine of pre-emptive strikes, unprecedented in U.S. history, "to defend our liberty and to defend our lives." Everyone knew he meant Iraq, and January 2003's State of the Union address, he made it clear we weren't going to wait around for the United Nations to do something about Iraq's weapons of mass destruction.

Ordinary Americans tried to lead lives the way they did before the realization that the United States was no longer isolated from a violent world, that they had been drawn into the vortex of terrorism, flashed to them in warnings of yellow, orange and red. Their president was clearly suggesting that Iraq had something to do with 9/11.

So they took their shoes off for airport screeners. Bus and subway posters gave them tips for spotting suspicious behavior, signs of al-Qaida/Iraq in their midst. They didn't know it, but their e-mail and Internet use was being watched by the government, their phone traffic monitored. They would learn years later that the domestic surveillance had started well before Sept. 11, 2001, but few people seemed to mind. The spying was, the president promised, to keep them safe and free.

March 2003 seems far off in some ways. Gasoline was $1.35 a gallon, and crude oil prices, spurred by rumbles of war in the Middle East, ominously passed the $30 per barrel mark, the highest they had been since about 1986. Mitt Romney had just been sworn in as governor of Massachusetts. High school seniors in the Bay State were sweating out MCAS exams, because starting that year they couldn't graduate without passing it.

The smaller kids were scrambling to buy Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire, just out for the Nintendo Game Boy Advance. Norah Jones' "Don't Know Why" had just won multiple Grammy awards; Bruce Willis was down in the jungles of Nigeria as gung-ho, can-do, no-fear Lt. A.K. Waters rescuing damsel doctors in distress in "Tears of the Sun."

People continued to lead their lives as usual, as President Bush had asked them to.

Joseph M. Camara, 40, was in his fourth year on the New Bedford Police Department, father of three and a National Guardsman since age 19.

Michael L. Ford of New Bedford was just 16, two years shy of being eligible to sign up for the Marines.

Alexander Henry Fuller of New Bedford was 17 and still dating his longtime sweetheart Anastacia, who would marry him in two years.

Soon, their lives would change forever, thanks in part to a congressional resolution passed in October 2002.

On March 17, diplomacy was abandoned as President Bush, armed with a permission slip from Congress, gave Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, the man who once tried to kill his father George H. W. Bush on a visit to Kuwait after the Gulf War, 48 hours to leave his country or face attack.

First images of the war began to blaze across television screens at 9:30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time on March 19: "Shock and Awe" air strikes had begun "decapitating" Iraq's government, driving underground whatever rulers the bombs didn't kill. Tens of thousands of troops amassed in Kuwait swung into Iraq the following day, with embedded reporters marveling at how easy it all was. The Iraqi army had gone into hiding, abandoning weapons, vehicles, tanks, gun emplacements, highways. A few days later, some of them would take a brief stand against the American and the British soldiers at Nassiriya and Basra, but it wouldn't amount to much.

On April 9, Baghdad finally fell, and on April 14, major fighting in Iraq was declared over by the Pentagon. Saddam wouldn't be found in his spider hole until Christmastime, but plans were under way for the new Iraqi government and the official dismantling of its army. On May 2, 2003, President Bush would make his famous landing on the aircraft carrier USS Lincoln beneath a banner that read, "Mission Accomplished." The ship was stationed off the California coast.

Five years have now passed, and the mission remains a work in progress.

Weapons of mass destruction have never been found, their secret dying with the execution of Saddam Hussein. Al-Qaida finally established itself in Iraq, only to be pushed back by coalition forces and annoyed Iraqis. Casualties mounted, and a million or more Iraqis fled as refugees to neighboring counties, the middle class emptying out, and taking their skills and expertise with them. Suicide bombings were everywhere.

The body counts, which military leaders disavowed after Vietnam, emerged again, only this time the tallies were the soldiers killed by accident or improvised explosive devices, and innocent civilians killed by suicide bombers.

Democratic elections, purple fingers raised aloft for the world to view, suggested the Iraqis could settle their ancient factional differences and put a functioning government together. Five years on, and the electricity mostly remains off in Iraq. The tap water, if it runs, has been known to have worms in it. The warring insurgents offer the most reliable employment.

A "temporary" troop surge announced by President Bush in early 2007 curbed much of the violence. But experts say the U.S. cannot leave until Iraq can govern and defend itself. So the new embassy compound in Baghdad is the largest on Earth, and military leaders are preparing to march soon to Capitol Hill, to try to answer the question, "What next?"

Sgt. Camara was sent to Iraq as a member of the Rhode Island National Guard 115th Military Police. He was killed on Sept. 1, 2003, when his Humvee hit an IED.

Marine Lance Cpl. Michael Ford, at 19, died in April 2006 when his tank was struck by an IED.

Army Sgt. Alexander Henry Fuller, 21, died when a bomb exploded in his convoy, before he could see his first child.

Their names are among the nearly 4,000 who have given their lives in the pursuit of the mission in Iraq. Tens of thousands more Iraqis and Americans have been injured, often grievously.

Today, those sixth- and seventh-graders playing Pokemon games back in 2003 are just about old enough to enlist and replace those who went before.

Contact Steve Urbon at surbon@s-t.com

Ellie