I disagree with President Obama on a few issues, and didn't vote for him either time he was elected. But I agree with his course of action regarding Iran. The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPA) presented to us on July 14 took two years of extensive cooperation, and represents a comprehensive solution to the current nuclear crisis. Many stand against the principle of the deal, and came out against it before details were even available. Those voices argue that any deal not ending with the Iranians on their knees is not worth the paper upon which it is written. They argue that war is preferable.
There is a solemn compact between a people and her guardians. We who serve promise to fight with all of our might and cunning to defeat the enemies of Liberty. We promise to leap at their throats without question or hesitation, no matter where or when. In return, the Protected have the moral responsibility to ensure that the cause is just, that every peaceful avenue has been tried, and that there is a plan to return to peace. This arrangement is necessary because the cost of war is never distributed equally.
While I was moving through Bagram Airfield heading home on R&R leave in 2007, we received word from Task Force Fury that we had an angel flight inbound. I joined about a dozen other soldiers from the task force and spent three hours on the tarmac practicing the ramp ceremony. The master sergeant in charge gathered us up and explained to us how important it was that we performed not just right -- but flawlessly. An officer would be recording everything, and the families of those two soldiers would be given the video footage of our actions. We only had one chance to get it right.
Later, we assembled on the tarmac behind a C-17 cargo plane. The two fallen soldiers arrived at Bagram in body bags on stretchers under flags, and had to be put into rigid steel coffins filled with bags of ice at the base hospital.
We had been broken into two columns on either side of a pathway leading up to the open cargo hatch of the bird, facing inward, evenly spaced, and left to wait at Parade Rest. When the fallen angel convoy left the Hospital, we snapped to attention, brought our rifles up and held them across our chests. I saw the flashing lights of the police escort out of the corner of my eye as we remained stock still, until the master sergeant shouted "PRESENT—"
He paused for about a quarter second; that was the preparatory command that let us get ready to execute in unison when he shouted "ARMS!"
It took the pallbearer detail a few minutes to disembark the two coffins. With solemn precision, they did their part in carrying a Brother- and a Sister-in-arms home.
At the time, I was used to huffing around a 30-pound light machine gun in mountains, so standing stock still with an M4 with lasers and optics held vertically 12 inches in front of my chest seemed like it would be easy.
After the first minute or so, the rifle started getting heavy.
It wanted to sag. It wanted to fall out of my hands.
After about three minutes, my arms were on fire from holding that rifle out.
But not a single one of us moved, or even trembled from muscle failure. This was the final honor rendered to our fallen comrades. It was a privilege to know that our actions that night meant something to two grieving families.
As I watched the two coffins slowly pass me, I silently thanked the people inside for their sacrifice, hoped that the success of our mission would bring some form of solace to their families, and prayed that their deaths were not in vain.
That was the first time I had ever seen a dead soldier, a precursor to the nightmare that was to come when I got back a month later.
The next time was not clean, solemn, or quiet.
It was explosions, flames, screaming, and the stench of burning flesh and armor.
It was standing guard over a burned-out hulk for 36 hours inside a ravine because we didn't have the extraction gear to get our people out.
It was throwing rocks at the ravens to keep them away from the wreckage until Mortuary Affairs arrived with cutting tools.
My brigade lost 42 soldiers on that deployment. Since I left the Army in 2011, four more of my friends are now dead. Three of them killed themselves within a three week period last fall. Another died last Monday from an overdose of the powerful antipsychotics that the VA commonly uses to treat PTSD and myriad other issues, none of which has been authorized by the FDA. One side effect of the drug is listed as "persistent suicidal thoughts or actions."
I spent an hour on Tuesday consoling his best friend, beside himself with grief, thankful that he decided to tell me he needed to talk.
I hate watching my friends fall apart, I hate having to wonder if a missed call was a buddy desperately reaching out for help. Someday a brother-in-arms may die because I was out of cell phone range. But this is the cost. This is our burden.
I've spoken before in this venue regarding the humanity of Iranian civilians, but since many of those who disagree with the principle of a diplomatic solution with Iran ignore that, yet treasure the opportunity to extol their moral virtue, I'll reset this in a relatable context:
Condemnation without investigation is an immoral act.
Casting aside a peaceful solution in favor of war and rumors of war is an immoral act.
Needlessly killing and sending others to die in vain is an immoral act.
Trying to peacefully end this crisis in terms acceptable to both parties is a moral act.
To shirk the moral responsibility to America's fighting forces by sending them to another insane, endless war is an act of morally bankrupt cowardice, and those who would blindly accept the warmongering punditry are surrendering the very rights for which we have fought so fiercely these last 12-score years.
Ronald Reagan said, "There is only one guaranteed way you can have peace, and you can have it in the next second — Surrender."
Admittedly there is some risk in any course we take, but to frame this as a binary choice between fight and surrender is dishonest at best, and those putting voice to such tomfoolery will likely have something to gain in the event of another National Killing Spree.
Read the terms of the deal with Iran and decide for yourself.
Bryan Box is a veteran of the 173rd Airborne Brigade and is currently using his Post-9/11 GI Bill at UAA to earn a B.S. in biology with dual minors in physics and chemistry — which he considers a gift from the American people for which he is truly grateful.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.