A SOLDIER'S STORY
Protests
By
Franke Gracia
So how are the anti-war protests affecting the troops deployed overseas? I thought it would be interesting to gather some intel on the subject while I was in Afghanistan.
Problem was none of my younger troops seemed to care. All they wanted to do was protest the food in the chow hall: “Sir, I’m tired of crunchy rice. It ain’t supposed to be that way”, or “ Sir, please tell me, how can you mess up corn? I didn’t think that was possible.”
All I could meekly manage in response was that there was a sacred tradition in the Army that chow had to be bad, and we were carrying on that sacred tradition in fine fashion. The only other thing they wanted to protest was the slow pace of the mail. I told them that with combat operations in high gear, lots of mail was getting bumped from Chinooks in lieu of men and supplies. Sorry.
They seemed to understand.
I had to go to the older troops in my outfit to get some feedback on the protests back home. To my great personal satisfaction, even hard-core conservatives I spoke with agreed that anti-war protests are the kind of free speech we’re all over here fighting to protect – a fundamental cornerstone of our democracy. As to its effect on the morale of our troops, someone made what I thought was a very good point – that our soldiers understand the difference between “anti-war” and “anti-soldier.”
None of the protesters are “anti-soldier.” They respect and admire the troops. Their protests are aimed at the policies and decisions of the current administration with respect to the war in Iraq. To the argument that the protests made excellent propaganda material for our enemies, most, but not all, agreed that this was the price you paid for a free and democratic society.
It heartened me to hear these views, so much like my own. My morale is not diminished by someone who differs with my political views – given that these views are arrived at after conscientious thought and analysis. Maybe I can learn something from this individual. Here’s a shocker – I could be wrong.
Personally, what hurts my morale are those that care not a whim either way; the miserable, wretched, apathetic souls that spend their lives in pursuit of solely selfish interests; those that never give even a glancing thought to those protecting the blanket of freedom they sleep under every night. That hurts my morale. Or the morons that will ask me when I return, “So, how many ragheads did you waste?” They insult the lives of people like Ahmad Shah Masood, the Lion of the Panshjer, my kindred spirit, my Muslim brother.
Not long ago, I stood at attention on a lonely, dusty street here in Bagram, Afghanistan. As 16 Humvees ever so slowly rolled by, I presented the best possible salute I could render to each vehicle – for in the back of each Hummer lay a flag-draped coffin. Sixteen Hummers, 16 coffins. As you might imagine, tears slowly rolled down my cheeks – not for the soldiers – for their suffering was over. I wept for the families of the soldiers, for their suffering was only beginning, never to end until each one someday occupies a coffin of their own. I have saluted far too many flag-draped coffins here in Afghanistan. Sadly, I will surely salute more.
So how do we honor these soldiers? How do we honor their families that will suffer for the rest of their lives? Is it not by exercising fully the rights and privileges they paid the last full measure of devotion to protect? In the end for me, it’s all about love. Love of country. Love of country for affording me and my family, among so many other things, freedom of speech and religion. It seems that not a day goes by without Afghan citizens being murdered for simply expressing their political or religious views. In America, my family and I have the freedom, if we so choose, to protest the policies of our government. That’s precious. It’s worth fighting for. I think it’s worth dying for. If the next flag-draped coffin here in Afghanistan is for me, then as the beautiful spiritual hymn says – “it is well . . . it is well with my soul.”
My protest is for those not willing to fight, and if necessary, die . . . for the freedom to protest. I protest their wasting of perfectly good oxygen. That’s my protest . . . along with the food in the chow hall.
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Franke Gracia lives in Temple, Texas and was deployed in Afghanistan with the National Guard from May 2005 to April 2006. He is a math professor at Temple College and is very close to his family that includes two brothers and two sisters. He earned a bronze star while he was deployed, which he gave to his mother. As to why he decided to write this series of articles he says, "I hope folks who read my scribbling will gain a greater appreciation of what a citizen-soldier goes through during a deployment."