Opinion

Iraqi father gives heartfelt thanks

Note from the desk of the opinion editors:

It is easy for us to forget the sacrifices American soldiers serving abroad make to represent our country. In a charged partisan climate in which the actions of civilian commanders are scrutinized and used as fodder in mudslinging campaigns, we can overlook the thousands of ordinary Americans making us proud in extraordinary conditions.

This is the eighth part of a series that will appear every Monday this semester where we will publish the journal of Liz O'Herrin, a UW student who kept record of her experiences in Iraq and has decided to share them with the readers of The Badger Herald. We present this journal in hopes that you can gain insight to a small piece of the Iraq experience for American servicemen and women.

JUNE 9

Spent the morning taking pictures of things that need to be fixed in the bomb dump with the chief. Did my first real Post-Attack Reconnaissance sweep with one of my supervisors. You just drive around through a vast expanse of desert after an attack and look for rockets and mortars laying around. Simple enough.

Everybody has the shits from bad chow hall food and water. Ick

JUNE 14

We had another incoming today, but we were at lunch. It landed near us but didn't explode.

There's this enthusiastic young Army kid who checks our IDs on the way into the chow hall in the morning — a protective measure after someone strapped explosives to their chest and killed a bunch of people in one of our chow halls last fall. Usually, at 5:50 a.m., everyone is tired and crabby and just wants their coffee. But this kid always has a ton of energy. As we're waiting to wash our hands, his enthusiasm echoes in the unfriendly smelly entrance to the chow hall. Instead of saying "you're good, you're good, you're good" as each person passes, he thinks hard for each response. "Superb!" "Excellent!" "Wonderful!" "Dynamite!"

This morning he did his thing, then turns to his Army buddies in line. "If you're wondering why you didn't get your paperwork yesterday, it's 'cause the dude got killed," he announced. Loudly. Too loudly, and not enough tact. We all flinch inside — it's too early in the morning for death. But no matter how hard we all flinched on the inside, no one batted an eyelash. We all wondered the same thing — ours or theirs? American or Iraqi? An Army guy turns to his buddy. "Haji?" "Yeah."

Everyone is ready to go home. Even the chief and captain have fantasized about escape routes. You know morale is getting low when the authority jokes about getting the hell out of here.

JUNE 16

Today we went to the hospital to deliver toys to some kids who were there. A 7-year-old girl, gunshot wound, was sleeping. We put a teddy bear next to her. Next ward — irate Iraqi boy with his head wrapped up. Must have been eight or nine. Yelling at the nurses in Arabic. He was strapped down to the bed with a dust cover on his forehead. We asked if we could give him a toy, and the nurses replied that we could, but not to take it personally if he didn't like it. We gave him a squishy ball. He stopped yelling and eyed us suspiciously. The nurse explained that the blue dust cover on his forehead was because he had been spitting on them repeatedly. The nurses looked tired, helpless. The boy's face suddenly softened, and in a strong voice he said "Thank you." He half smiled, then repeated it. "Thank you." The nurses' jaws dropped. We all smiled pretty big.

My roommate pressed further: "What's your name?" "Thank you. Thank you."

On to the next ward. Small Iraqi boy, unconscious, with brain damage. His father sat next to him. We told him he could pick out some toys for his son. He picked out a few and smiled at us genuinely, placing his hand over his heart to say "Thank you."

A girl in the sunflower fields right outside the wire waved at me the other day as I drove past on an errand. I wish I could jump the fence and talk to those kids. We think we have it bad in the States.