There are names we don't know. We don't know the names and life stories of the 4.7 million refugees, nor the two million Iraqis who fled the violence caused by the Coalition invasion. We don't know the names of the orphaned children, one-third of all of Iraq's youth. We don't know the names of the 100,000--150,000 civilians killed. We don't have accurate records of more than a million who were wounded. It no longer matters who killed or wounded them, who destroyed their lives and property--American, allied, Shia, Sunni, insurgent, criminal, or al-Qaeda. It doesn't matter if they died from IEDs, suicide bombers, gunshots, artillery, bombs, or missiles. In war, they're simply known as "collateral damage."
In Afghanistan, 2,769 Coalition troops have been killed, 1,815 of them American, by the day that President Obama announced the withdrawal from Iraq. There are already 14,343 wounded among the Coalition forces. Between 36,000 and 75,000 Afghani civilians have been killed by insurgents and Coalition troops during the past decade, according to the United Nations. President Obama told the world that the war in Afghanistan would continue at least two more years.
You can try to sanitize the wars by giving them patriotic names--Operation Iraqi Freedom; Operation Enduring Freedom. But that doesn't change the reality that millions of every demographic have been affected. War doesn't discriminate. The dead on all sides are physicians and religious leaders; trades people, farmers, clerks, merchants, teachers, and mothers. And they are babies and students. We don't know what they might have become had they been allowed to grow up and live a life of peace, one without war.
We also don't yet know who will be the last American soldier to be killed in Iraq. As important, we don't know how Post-Traumatic Syndrome Disorder (PTSD) will affect the one million soldiers who were called for as many as seven tours of duty, nor when the last Iraq War veteran will die from permanent injuries. And we will never know the extent of the terror that will plague the families, children, and grandchildren of those who served.
But there is one more thing we do know. A year before Josà � Antonio Gutierrez was killed, he had written a "Letter to God" in Spanish. Translated, it read: "Thank you for permitting me to live another year, thank you for what I have, for the type of person I am, for my dreams that don't die. . . . May the firearms be silent and the teachings of love flourish."
[Walter Brasch first began writing about war in 1966. He wishes he didn't have to. His latest book is Before the First Snow, a novel that focuses upon America between 1964 and 1991, the eve of the Persian Gulf War.]
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