A little over four years ago I was writing about the buildup.
I wrote about the soldier saying goodbye to his wife and children while boarding a convoy headed for training that only a mere pit stop on their way to Iraq. I watched as families were left burdened with the responsibilities of raising children with a father, mother, or both, fighting thousands of miles and hours away.
Four years ago, I was engulfed in the stories, the people, the families that provided to what we now know as the War in Iraq. Their names escape me today, but their stories are there.
Four years ago, I sat in my living room as Ari Fleischer announced the bombing had begun in Iraq. I was celebratory, thinking “it’s about time.” Of course, I thought, Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, Saddam Hussein was the bad guy, and it was the right thing to do.
Four years later, I’m only confident on one of the three and that is the severity of the evils that surrounded Saddam Hussein.
Today we celebrate the fourth anniversary of the start of the War on Iraq. I no longer believe it is the same as the War on Terrorism. While, as others have suggested, the war began with the memory of 9-11 fresh in our minds, today we fight questioning whether we should have been there in the first place.
I’m not so sure. It’s easy to play Monday Morning Quarterback - though I hate to use that term to describe a war - and suggest how things should have been in 2003 or even today in 2007, but I don’t have an answer. My suggestions of what to do are only circulated in questions and doubts about the current strategy and where things are going today. I have nothing to offer in military strategy or tactics only my hope and prayer that this war may end soon, so that families may be reconnected.
That is what I chose to think about today - the families. The ones left to live a life without a son, a daughter, a mother, a father, and wondering when they’ll return home.
Hopefully, not soon enough.
