Rabbi Heurta -- More Thoughts on Iraq

Posted: Jan 8, 2009

Rabbi Heurta shares his mixed emotions as he leaves Iraq.

The essay pasted below is from Chaplain Carlos Huerta, Jewish Chaplain in Iraq. Chaplain Huerta was/is assigned as the Jewish Chaplain at West Point. He didn't have to go to Iraq. He volunteered to do so.

Commentary by Maj. Carlos C. Huerta

Jewish Chaplain in Mosul, Iraq

Dec 12 2003

I am about to get on what soldiers call the "freedom bird," the aircraft that brings us back to the world.

You would think I would be ecstatic, since I will once again see my wife, children, mother and friends. But, strangely, I am not. I am caught in a twilight zone of anxiety and loneliness, mixed with some measure of happiness. I leave Iraq with tears in my eyes, joy in my heart, happiness in my soul and deep sadness in my being. I am so glad to be seeing my family, but so sad to leave my other family.

I have to say good-bye to men and women who are willing to put themselves in harm's way for me, ready to run towards bullets to save me, ready to die for me. How does one say good-bye to that kind of relationship and not feel pain, sadness and loneliness. How can I not feel pain in my heart knowing the ones I'm leaving behind are still in harm's way? I worry about their safety, I worry that they may not see the day when they ride the freedom bird back to their loved ones.

The soldier in me wants to stay until the last bullet is fired in the last battle in the last war for freedom. However, when I take a minute to think about it, I realize it's impossible. Our role of defending freedom for us -- and for others -- began when we were just a colony. There can never be a last war, a last battle, because -- in every

generation -- there are those who wish to take freedom away.

As a Jew, I know Chanukah was a war for freedom -- religious freedom. It was more than two thousand years ago that a tyrant forbid the Jews to practice or teach religion. He decided the way we worshipped our Creator had to be wiped off the face of the earth. We found that unacceptable and, under the Maccabbees, went to war. We were defending our right to worship our God; to teach our faith to our children and to live as free men and women. Since then, little has changed but the location.

Here we are in Iraq, once again defending our freedoms from those who wish to destroy them. We see the fight for freedom never ends -- there is never a last battle, a last bullet. We know, from experience, that if freedom is to survive, there must be men and women in every generation who are willing to pay the supreme sacrifice.

As I climb aboard the "Freedom Bird" and leave my buddies behind, I am sad and happy. I remember the good times we had, but I also remember the pain, the bleeding, the dying we did together.

One incident in particular will always stay vivid in my mind. At the site of two downed Blackhawks I, with a Soldier from the 1st Battalion, 320th Field Artillery, our commander and Col. Joseph Anderson, USMA 1981, the 2nd Brigade Combat Team Commander, went through the wreckage and recovered the bodies of seven of our Soldiers. I will always remember touching my friends, saying good-bye to them and putting them in body bags.

I will always remember Anderson pulling the bodies out of the bird and personally carrying each one off the roof. I can see him carrying them down three flights of stairs as if he was carrying something so precious and dear to him.

I will always remember Lt. Col. Mark Murray, my commander, tears filling his eyes as he identified his Soldiers. I will also remember the pain on the face and in the voice of Capt. Vincent Generoso, USMA 1996, the Charlie Battery Commander, as he told his soldiers they lost five of their buddies. These are exemplary lessons in leadership I will never

forget; lessons of soldiering I will always carry with me; lessons about the true cost of freedom I will pass on to anyone who will listen.

This is why I reluctantly get on my transport home, despite the fact I know my job is done and another waits. I carry a message in my bosom, a message I am not sure I can ever express in words. It begins with the words Duty-Honor-Country, but ends with words embodied in the lives and actions of America's sons and daughters in uniform. They stand alone, on guard through the dark night of oppression, whenever and wherever it may be.

The message I carry is of great sacrifice, but also of great hope for the future. It is a message that contains a firm belief in the rightness of our cause, but sadness on what price we have paid -- and will continue to pay -- for the freedoms we hold so dear.

I understand it can be no other way. George Orwell once said that we sleep well at night because there are brave men and women awake, standing guard, prepared to do great violence to those who would harm us.

This holiday season, as our hearts turn to peace and joy, I hope we take time to remember. We, as a community and a nation, must remember that we celebrate the joy and peace of the holidays in safety and security because of those men and women far away. Those men and women who are prepared to do great violence to any who would harm us. It is because of their sacrifices that we can worship where and when we wish and celebrate the birth of the prince of peace.

So as I fly the freedom bird towards home, I wish all Americans everywhere, of every faith, every race, every ethnic group, every background, wherever you are, A Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanza and happy whatever-you believe-in. May this New Year be one of health and happiness, one where the words of the prophet ring true and no nation lifts a sword against another.

Enjoy, but in your enjoyment, remember. See you on the high ground.

HOOOOOAAHHH!

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