Written by Miguel Jimenez   

As I watched the South Korean film My Way (2011) which depicted the World War II experiences of Kim Jun-Shik and Tatsuo Hasegawa—two rival marathon runners conscripted to serve in enemy armies—I became aware about the troubling similarities between the aforementioned protagonists and the combat experiences of certain U.S. veterans. For instance, Jun-Shik and Hasegawa were placed into a situation where their nationalist ideals were antithetical to their survival; if they refused to fight for their captives, they would surely be executed; and if they did not defend themselves in battle, they would have died at the hands of soldiers whom they were conscripted to kill. Although it would be absurd to claim that the U.S. military executes its conscientious objectors, one can certainly argue that certain U.S. combat veterans, as was the case with the movie’s protagonists; have also betrayed their ideals in order to survive in the combat zone.
During mid-December of 2002, Lance Corporal Toms, Corporal Marquez, and I were very eager and excited because our Marine Corps unit, stationed in Camp Pendleton, California, had just returned from a standard six month deployment, and our discharge dates were scheduled for sometime in early January of 2003. So in essence, the end of our deployment constituted the beginning to an end. Knowing that we had less than a month to prepare for our discharge dates, we quickly began the checking out process which required, among other things, returning gear and equipment, attending classes, and signing out from certain on-base facilities.
On what should have been our last day of active duty service, we had just finished returning our field gear to Headquarters and Supply, when we began walking back to our barracks and making plans for the night. We knew that this was probably going to be the last time we were going to see each other on a regular basis, so we decided to have one last night out in Downtown San Diego. However, we would eventually realize that our plans would be short-lived.
Upon arriving to our barracks, Sergeant Colms, one of our platoon’s squad leaders greeted us with a smirk and asked us where our gear was. We were very enthusiastic about informing him that we had just returned our gear, when he quickly responded with a joyful expression and words I will probably remember until the day I die, “Well, you all better go get your gear because you’re going with us to Iraq!” After hearing these words, I felt like my world came crashing down on me.
Apparently, we had become victims of a military policy known as stop-loss that permits the involuntary extension of active duty military personnel. In other words, we had signed an eight year contract that required us to serve four years of active duty service and another four in the inactive ready reserve (IRR). Marines placed on IRR are subject to recalls during a time of war. In our case, our command knew that they were going to need us, so they activated the stop-loss policy to retain their fighting force. We were eventually informed that we would deploy for Kuwait—the staging ground for the invasion of Iraq—in two weeks.
The next two weeks were tough for the three of us because we were undecided about going to Iraq. As a Muslim, Toms had an issue with fighting in Iraq; he was considering declaring conscientious objector status or moving to Canada. Marquez was concerned with his family, so he had seriously discussed with his wife, moving to Mexico. I opposed the invasion of Iraq based on moral and political ideals. We were going to destroy Iraq’s infrastructure, decimate its people and their living standard to expand U.S. hegemony in the region. This was something that I could not partake in; however, my loyalty to my friends and unit became the essential factor that convinced me to betray my ideals.
As a result of reading various works of literature, during my military enlistment, such as Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States: 1492—Present (1995) and a couple of Che Guevara’s biographies, I became a self-proclaimed anti-imperialist who began to critically examine U.S. foreign policy and the role I would have to play, as a Marine, if I was ever ordered to participate in an imperialistic venture. However, in spite of our views on the forthcoming Iraq War, we all crossed the Iraqi border on March 20, 2003.
I cannot speak for Toms and Marquez, because only they can speak about their personnel experiences in Iraq. However, I am sure that their main objective became survival, as it was for me. We were all placed in a situation that we did not agree with, but given the circumstances, we had no choice but to fight. For example, the enemy was not going to see us any differently because we did not agree with the war; to them we were all the same—targets. So in that perspective, we may have felt some empathy for the Iraqi insurgents, I certainly did—it was their god given right to defend their country—but allowing my feelings to get in the way of the overall mission would have been hazardous to my friends and unit.
Unlike, Jun-Shik’s and Hasegawa’s WWII experiences, Toms, Marquez, and I were not forced to fight for our enemy and we did not experience the same level of carnage depicted in the film. Yet, there is a level of resonance with our combat tour, as I am sure there are with other war veterans, and those of the aforementioned protagonists. For instance, maybe there are worse things that can happen to someone in their lifetime, but being placed into a situation where you have to take another person’s life or risk your life for a cause you do not support, certainly has to be among the worst things that can happen to someone. Combat, in itself, is a difficult endeavor for even those combatants who support the ideal or reason for going to war. For those who are opposed or conflicted with their participation in the war effort, they are condemned, not only to the physical and mental anguish that all combatants encounter, but to one of a higher degree—the battle raging within their conscious.