Thread: A Call Sounded and Answered

The following is an article about a former classmate of my brother's, and an all around exceptional guy who recently returned from Iraq. In No way shape or form is this a article to spark a debate about IRAQ, PLEASE DO NOT COMMENT ANYTHING UNLESS IT PERTAINS TO THE ARTICLE! NO RELIGIOUS VIEWS, etc!! I am posting this as a courtesy because this is probably one of the only good articles to come from the new york times, other than Thomas Friedman's weekly article. So If you do not have anything nice to say at all do not say it! It will not be tolerated and I will report it.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest, now on to the article. :


A Call Sounded, and Answered
By LISA W. FODERARO
LARCHMONT, N.Y.

MICHAEL W. BURTEN, a 24-year-old former marine, is sipping a glass of crisp white wine at an outdoor cafe here, trying to explain how strange and wonderful it is to be home from the war in Iraq.

There is this: the profoundly relaxing luxury of a fine meal in a safe place, where a spring breeze occasionally rustles the white tablecloth. After four years in the military, and two tours in Iraq during which he received two Purple Hearts, Mr. Burten is back home with his mother and friends in Larchmont, a prosperous Westchester County village on Long Island Sound with impossibly lush lawns and charming shops.

But there are also the dissonances that arise from the uneasy transition between war and peace. The United States military refers to the move from combat to civilian life as readjustment. By every outward measure, Mr. Burten’s readjustment seems to be going fine. He recently learned that he had been accepted by Columbia University’s School of General Studies for the fall. He is reconnecting with old friends. Apart from some hearing loss, he is healthy and intact.

In a number of subtle ways, however, life is not at all the same. His heart starts to thump when he spies a mound of recycling left by a curb, which, for an instant, he mistakes for an I.E.D., or improvised explosive device. There is the awkwardness at bars and parties when acquaintances dance around his war experience, avoiding the topic as if he had cancer.

Mostly, there is the painful disconnect between the very real war in which he fought and the one Americans read about or glimpse while channel surfing.

For the record, Mr. Burten, who said he decided to join the Marines after 9/11 in a “fit of idealism,” said he opposed the war almost from the beginning, believing it was misrepresented and mishandled.

Nonetheless, he feels a profound bond with the Marine Corps and finds himself wishing that the American public displayed more support for the military. As an example, he recalls a typical phone conversation with a friend in which Mr. Burten mentions that he heard on the news that a dozen soldiers were killed in Iraq that day.

“They’ll say, ‘Oh, man, that sucks,’ ” he said. “And then, ‘What are we going to do later?’

“It hurts a little bit. It makes me think back to my 14 months in Iraq, getting shot at or blown up. How many times were people in the States thinking about me?”

He added: “There’s no sacrifice being demanded of the American people.”

Mr. Burten — tall, fine featured and easygoing — was the first member of his family to have served. The son of psychiatrists, he grew up in a capacious Colonial a short walk from the Sound. He had never given any thought to the military.

At Mamaroneck High School, Mr. Burten was, in his words, “pretty below the radar.” He did not go out for sports or join clubs. But he played guitar in a funk band and wrote for the school’s poetry magazine. And he earned good enough grades to get into Skidmore College in upstate New York.

Soon he was adrift. He left Skidmore after only one semester, the result of too much partying and a lack of academic focus. Less than a year later, while taking classes at Westchester Community College, Sept. 11 happened. Less than a year after that, his father died of a heart attack.

“I was very much just looking for something, anything,” he said of his decision to join the Marines. “It was partly to avenge 9/11. I felt a calling, a sense of purpose. I think I romanticized the idea, but I had a feeling that if I didn’t go and do it, I would regret it in the future.”

Another strong influence was the book “Making the Corps,” by Thomas E. Ricks (Scribner), which Mr. Burten read shortly before enlisting. “That sealed the deal for me,” he said. “He described the Marine Corps in contrast to the decadence of my generation.”

HIS friends and family were incredulous. Young men from grittier towns and cities in Westchester went off to Iraq. The youth of Larchmont went off to college, the culmination of a clearly defined arc marked by karate lessons, sleep-away camps and SAT prep courses.

“It was dumbfounding, to say the least,” said Rob Dolan, 25, a close friend of Mr. Burten’s who also grew up in Larchmont. “People from our neighborhood weren’t doing that, and we were all giving him a hard time for it. But once he actually went, I felt proud of him.”

His mother, Dr. Katharine Burten, declined to be interviewed for this article, but relayed a single quote through her son, “It is excruciating to a have a family member in Iraq.”

Mr. Burten officially joined the Marines on March 9, 2003, just days before the United States invaded Iraq. He wasn’t too worried about having to fight because he assumed the conflict would end as quickly as the first gulf war. After surviving boot camp on Parris Island, S.C., he went to Camp Geiger School of Infantry in North Carolina. He then reported to the Second Battalion, Second Marine Regiment at Camp Lejeune, N. C.

In March 2004, with the war continuing, his battalion was deployed to Iraq. In late summer, while his platoon was providing security in Al Anbar Province, an explosive device struck his vehicle. Mr. Burten, then a lance corporal, was given his first Purple Heart after suffering a concussion and getting shrapnel in his chin.

But his brush with death came during his second tour, which began in July 2005. That fall, Mr. Burten was driving the lead Humvee in a convoy in West Karmah when a suicide bomber in a parked car blew himself up.

Such was the fear of roadside attacks that Mr. Burten recalls making a quick assessment of the danger moments before the explosion. “I rounded a corner and saw a brand new Jeep Cherokee on the side of the road,” he said. “It was the nicest car I had seen the whole time I was in Iraq, and I thought, why would they make a car bomb out of that?”

When Mr. Burten was only two feet away, the Jeep exploded with such force that his Humvee was transformed into a bloody tangle of wounded bodies and broken glass. Mr. Burten had a concussion, and his eardrums were damaged. Shards of glass etched his face. But his limbs were all there, and none of his injuries — nor those of the other men — were life threatening.

He has a photograph taken shortly after the attack in which he is covered in blood but smiling, glad to be alive.

Recovering in a hospital in Baghdad, Mr. Burten grew increasingly disenchanted with the war and the Bush administration. One news segment on television stands out. It showed a clip of Mr. Bush saying that the United States would not run from car bombs and assassins.

“I remember that quote very clearly,” he said. “I remember feeling very angry and used right then.”

His discussions with his fellow marines grew more heated: Mr. Burten criticized the government over how it sold Americans on the war and committing too few troops to wage it. “Military guys are pretty smart, and I spent a lot of time debating the war,” he said. “I always felt I was alone at one end of the spectrum. Most of the guys were in the middle.”

He returned to the United States a corporal, settling into a desk job at Camp Lejeune. In March, when his four years of active duty were up, he was ready to leave, receiving an honorable discharge. “I don’t regret serving,” he said. “I’m thankful for everything the Marine Corps has given me.”

His experience in Iraq nurtured a sense of direction that was lacking at Skidmore. He is excited now about international politics and human rights. In the essay he submitted with his application to Columbia, he wrote, “To this day, I am still haunted by the question of how the suicide bomber, who looked me squarely in the eye as he detonated himself, came to think that it was worth sacrificing his life to end mine.”

But his tours in Iraq have also left him with signs of post-traumatic stress. Besides the panicked reaction to piles of recycling, as well as potholes, he has recurring nightmares in which he sees the suicide bomber’s blank expression and long beard.

One of the more disturbing images from Iraq that crowd his mind was the killing of four members of a family who did not heed a number of warning signs to steer clear of a checkpoint. Fearing a suicide mission, a member of his squad raked their car with machine-gun fire, killing the mother and three children. The father survived. Perhaps it is witnessing such horrors that has made social relations here at home uncomfortable at times. “Most people feel like they have to tiptoe around the issue,” he said of his service in Iraq. “They think that if they bring it up I’ll break down crying or lose my mind. But I feel I have an obligation to talk about the war.”

His friend, Mr. Dolan, has seen the uneasiness at parties and restaurants. “It’s a feeling of reverence, kind of that hero persona that everyone is too timid to approach,” he said. “Or it’s: ‘Oh, man, what am I going to talk with him about? How can I have a normal conversation with him when he’s been through all of this and I haven’t?’ ”

It does not help that Mr. Burten can become withdrawn in large groups. “There’s something about being in a crowded room that brings back the feeling of patrolling a big market area, where anyone could be a suicide bomber,” he said. “I get a vague feeling of paranoia.”

Other times, even among his close friends, Mr. Burten senses that his humor is out of sync, and he must edit the violence-laden banter that served as a defense mechanism in Iraq. “It’s not acceptable to walk around joking about death all the time,” he said. “That’s got to go.”

Mr. Burten misses his marine buddies, who are scattered around the country. While he does not always think of himself as a veteran, he is eager to embrace the shared experience of war. He likes swapping stories with veterans of previous wars on his occasional visits to a V.A. hospital. He recently joined the American Legion, even marching in the Memorial Day parade in Larchmont. “I feel like I’ve earned a place in our military history,” he said.

There is positive fallout from his time in the military, too. In addition to being more focused, Mr. Burten has a fresh perspective on life and finds that he worries less.

After the turmoil of Iraq, he said, “The volume of life gets turned down.”

The volume could get cranked up again, however. Mr. Burten is now part of the Individual Ready Reserve, whose members may be tapped to fill vacancies in the Marines. Despite his opposition to the war, he said he would return to Iraq in a heartbeat.

“I signed a contract,” Mr. Burten said. “It’s an obligation. It’s hard to explain. It’s more of an emotional decision than an intellectual one. Semper Fi. Always faithful.”

Originally Posted by MICHAEL W. BURTEN

. . . , he feels a profound bond with the Marine Corps and finds himself wishing that the American public displayed more support for the military. As an example, he recalls a typical phone conversation with a friend in which Mr. Burten mentions that he heard on the news that a dozen soldiers were killed in Iraq that day.

“They’ll say, ‘Oh, man, that sucks,’ ” he said. “And then, ‘What are we going to do later?’

“It hurts a little bit. It makes me think back to my 14 months in Iraq, getting shot at or blown up. How many times were people in the States thinking about me?”

He added: “There’s no sacrifice being demanded of the American people.”

Those are profound statements. It reminds me of the difference between rhetoric and action. We all support our troops, but how many of us actually take the time to write those guys or send them a care package? Can you imagine what it's like being over there in the shit and getting shot at? Wondering what your family is up to? Heck, even wondering what your kids look like anymore?

A few years ago a girl friend from college put together a care package for soldiers in Iraq. I pitched in a fist full of new CDs and DVDs from the local Best Buy. I have to say, it feels good to send those guys a gift. It sure feels a lot better and does more good than debating the war, because that's one thing we cannot change. What we can change is soldiers' moods by proving that we care.

God grant us the power to change the things we can, the serenity to accept the things we can't, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The war is in somebody else's hands. Love is in our hands.

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God grant us the power to change the things we can, the serenity to accept the things we can't, and the wisdom to know the difference.


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now that was an interesting choice of words bacon......it hits the mark on 2 levels.

very nice bacon.

God grant us the power to change the things we can, the serenity to accept the things we can't, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Fixed

1:25

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1y0oojFgjs

Wow, pretty cool stuff.

I think we should move everyone in Israel to Arizona, they'd never know the difference
No more violence in that part of the Middle East

Cool system. On the plus side, it completely protects the gunner. But it's principle drawback is that, being a stationary target, it's easier to hit and thus easier (in theory) to destroy.

I think we should give Israel back all of their lands if they give us back what they still control of Miami.

Originally Posted by Flawless Cowboy

I think we should move everyone in Israel to Arizona, they'd never know the difference
No more violence in that part of the Middle East

I agree, but move only the jews. Israel is just a waste, and they should have just leave Palestine be. Because Israel is just like a ticking time bomb that nations like Iran are trying to disarm. Better like it was.