Ten years after the start of the Iraq War, we can argue about many things – but not about honoring the warriors who had one another’s backs and the civilians who supported them.
Michael Villegas, now a mechanic, was with the first wave into Iraq. Like many, he fought his way across the Iraqi desert and into Baghdad. He tells me if he could have a redo, he’d do it all again.
“Looking back,” the Marine says, “it was the best time of my life. You can never find that kind of camaraderie.”
Many who fought echo those words. Support from military buddies as well as civilians made all the difference in a war that – like many – can be judged only by history.
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When the Iraq War started, my son and his one of his best friends were sophomores at Santa Margarita High School. Today, that friend is two years out of the Marines after serving two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan.
It was a long and often controversial war. A new Gallup poll shows our nation remains deeply divided about the merits of Operation Iraqi Freedom; 53 percent of Americans believe the war was a mistake.
But this isn’t a column about the people who sit behind desks and make policy, the so-called masters of war. This is a column about those who volunteer and those who help.
Ten years ago today, my next-door neighbor, a Marine who served in Vietnam, hung an American and a Marine flag every day. I joined him in flying the Stars and Stripes – as did many in Orange County and across the United States.
Villegas’s father and uncle were Marines, and he tells me what I’ve heard many times while talking to many veterans. After 9/11, and with a strong sense of patriotism, Villegas believed he had one choice – report for duty.
Crossing the Iraqi border, digging holes and fighting their way across the desert, Villegas and his buddies were ambushed during the day and faced mortar fire at night.
When they arrived in Baghdad, they saw smoking governmental palaces and toppled statues of Saddam Hussein – along with bursts of enemy fire. On the civilian population’s faces, however, they saw relief.
But Villegas, who works at Certified Tires in Tustin, says he saw something else as well. Concern about the future.
Villegas’ second tour was nothing like his relatively tame first tour of duty. On average, he and his buddies faced firefights every other day. In the worst battle in Ramadi, he lost more buddies than he ever thought possible.
And the wounded? Villegas hesitates. Too many.
But cost – while personally tragic – is expected in war. “Every morning, you wake up with the best feeling,” Villegas says, “because you never know what will happen, but you know you’re paying the price for freedom.”
I ask Villegas, now married and the father of five daughters, his thoughts about the anniversary. This time, he doesn’t hesitate, “I want to thank all my brothers and sisters in arms.
“What we did will never be forgotten.”
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A 20-year Army veteran, Steve Cowan offers a more nuanced take.
Director of the Green Beret Shooter’s Cup and vice president of the Orange County chapter of the Special Forces Association, an organization that raises funds to help wounded vets, Cowan lost a best friend in 2007 in Iraq.
Now a student and father of two, Cowan has attended too many military funerals and knows he will go to more.
He offers context for the anniversary, saying, “We did what we said we were going to do. Our efforts put (Iraqis) in a position to decide what their fate would be.”
The Green Beret mulls over a question. He repeats, “Was it worth it? … I saw some pretty amazing people there. They don’t get sidelined by problems.”
Cowan tells a story while he was helping train Iraqi police and military after the surge. A critical bolt broke. A local man fashioned a new one with a blowtorch and threader.
Cowan concludes, “He deserves to live in a safe place.”
My friend, Evan Morgan would agree.
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Exactly a decade ago, Morgan was a Marine crossing from Kuwait into Iraq. Like Villegas, Morgan made it to Baghdad and returned to Iraq for a second tour.
As a missile operator in Al Qaim, a hard-scrabble area near Iraq’s western border, Morgan climbed aboard a Humvee for a rescue mission after an IED explosion. Morgan’s Humvee hit three anti-tank mines stacked atop one another.
Morgan regained consciousness in a hospital in Germany. He explains, “That’s when I realized I did not have legs.”
I got to know Morgan several years ago while he was training for a half-Ironman triathlon in Oceanside. He didn’t mention losing an eye in the blast. But he did talk about how a civilian organization called Challenged Athletes Foundation helped him become an Ironman.
Morgan, now married and a father, calls himself lucky.
That kind of giving – and that kind of appreciation – continues. On Thursday, I’ll join the 1st Battalion, 1st Marines Foundation of Newport Beach to honor Marines at something called Mess Night, a formal dinner offering those who serve a special evening.
Those in dress blues don’t pay a dime.
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For more than seven years, Marlene Blau and a band of devoted women have stuffed shoe boxes with everything from magazines to socks and shipped them to our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. Blau totals up how many boxes: 3,753.
I total up her cost for shipping: $47,000.
As we talk on the eve of the anniversary, two neighbors, Loretta and Don Schweinsburg, drop by with $1,000 worth of goodies.
For people such as Blau, anniversaries don’t matter. What matters is helping those who put themselves in harm’s way.
Commander Richard Cordes writes Blau, “When we see your name on the box, we know it’s Christmas all over again.”
After thousands of boxes and hundreds of thank-you’s, Blau is still thrilled with every note. “The Marines I have dealt with are some of the finest people I have ever met.
“They know they have a job to do, and even under some really bad conditions, they are strong and together,” Blau says. “They do know that the American people are supporting of them.”
Joe Ortiz, another Marine in the early waves into Iraq and now a railroad worker with two children, takes a moment from his busy Monday to explain what support means.
“The Vietnam vets paved the way for us,” says the Yorba Linda resident who lost two close buddies in Fallujah. “We get a lot more love. It makes us feel like we accomplished something.”
Let’s keep that love going. Join me today in flying a flag for the troops.
David Whiting’s column appears four days a week; dwhiting@ocregister.com
