I read Blackfive's post today about a recently written article on Haditha. I share their frustration.
From the facts of Iwo Jima or actually any other tough battle for the victory of goodness, we know that sweetness never comes from a brutal enemy who has trip wire, explosives, unexpected weapons, rape, brutality around every corner and who is hiding or camoflaged, ready to kill or maim, in the least likely of places. Including a seemingly innocent man who's reaching for a closet door.
The difficult uncertainly of violence all reminds me of a story a veteran, an officer in WWII, told. It relates to Fallujah, Haditha, to any battle for goodness actually.
The Allied Troops were hidden, dug in, deep in a ravine. From the road where the Germans were marching, the American troops could not be seen. They were still and quiet as could be. The German's had no clue. The good guys had advantage. Clear advantage.
A civilian home stood near by.
The officer waited for the German's to reach their most vulnerable position, ready to take out the leading Germa officer first, and the rest of them. Right as the German's reached the position, the American officer took a breath to order his troops to fire, which would have unloaded rounds of explosives onto the completely unprepared Germans.
But right as he was about to call fire onto the enemy's line, a little girl came out of the civilian house.
She had a red dress.
She was cute, little, sweet.
The American officer held fire to wait a few seconds hoping she'd dodge back into the house, where she might be safe.
She waved to the German troops.
Then she pointed to where the Americans were hiding, as though she was telling about friends who were playing hide and seek.
As he told this part, the veteran began to cry.
On that battlefield, his quiet hesitation for that little girl cost many men their life. In her innocence of what was to come, she had tipped off the German officer. The German officer survived. He could give orders, prevent chaos, get them organized so they could kill more Americans. Many good men died a bloodly ugly death at the hands of that pack of German's who made brutally, killing, gas ovens their motto.
The American officer's second or so delay, cost many men their life. He hesitated out of goodness, kind intentions. But the result was worse.
Somehow the mainstream media fails to understand.
Men are asked to make split second decisions, in the most gut wrenching of circumstances. They can be moved to tears years later if that split second cost a life.
Back in college, one of my classmates argued with me that war was bad. He said Jesus would never raise a fist. He was adament that, no matter the circumstance, taking up arms is always bad, you should never ever do so.
I asked him, "If you knew a gang of thugs was coming to your house next, to do what they did before: a man was going to rape your mom, then your daughter, then blow her head off into little bits, then shoot your father afterwards, perhaps cut off his head. But you held a weapon in your hand. Would you stand by and watch that happen to your mom, your daughter? Would you hesitate to wait for it to stop?"
He was angry, he said I wasn't being fair. He said, "That's not war!"
He obviously never read a single history book. Perhaps, years later, he called Darfur no big deal, "Well, that's not war."
So I wonder, someday when journalists like Jesse Hamilton are in trouble-- away from the embedded protection of Marines -- and alone. When they find themselves at the hands of a brutal enemy whose mission is to inflict many random deaths while dressed like a common daddy, maybe we should just hesitate? Should we take the path of expedience, shrug our shoulders and say, "What the heck. If he dies, no big deal. It's not war?"
Aw, but you guy's wouldn't do that. You'd protect them too. You protect me too. And I love ya for it.
Comments