Excerpts from my Conscientious Objector packet
Here is the essay part of my CO packet as it stands to be revised.
"B. Training and Belief
(1) An express, specific statement as to whether the person requests classification as a Conscientious Objector (1-0) or as a Conscientious Objector (1-A-0). -
I request classification as a Conscientious Objector (1-0)
(2) A description of the nature of the belief that requires the person to seek separation from the military service or assignment to non-combatant training and duty for reasons of conscience. -
I was always taught that violence is wrong. I wasn’t taught this by a kind, caring parent or mentor, but by an oppressive stepfather. I grew up in a physically abusive household and I always vowed that I would never be a violent person. I have been on the bad end of dehumanization and maltreatment and I learned exactly the kind of person that I did not want to be from that experience.
Regrettably I joined the Army as a last resort for work in 2005. I knew there was a war going on, but I thought there was a good possibility that I wouldn’t have to go. After all, my recruiter said things were winding down over there and all and before I knew it, I was stuck.
From the time I entered One Station Unit Training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, I found the army’s training methods to be anything but desirable. I guess I bought into it at first, but you can’t buy out your conscience. I sang the cadences and marched the marches. I was a good soldier. One thing that tipped me off to something being wrong though, was the fact that they taught us to be racist against Arabs by calling them a slew of racist terms. One in particular, “Haji”, I found to be especially offensive, mainly because of the immediate comparison in my head to racist terms for Vietnamese people, that my grandfather had always told me about. My grandfather was in Vietnam and he told me all about how they would call the Vietnamese names to make it easier to kill them. To dehumanize them. I felt then, and still feel, that this is happening today.
I meandered through the early months of my army career like a fish out of water. It was all innocent, classical sitcom material. Then came my rotation at the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, CA. As I trained more and more, the realization that I didn’t have the heart for this Army was all but concrete. I couldn’t bring myself to be violent with the OpFor actors, or to use force with the Iraqi expatriots working there. I felt more of an urge to learn about their culture than to police it.
As it became more and more clear that this job wasn’t for me I tried to seek help from the R&R center on Fort Hood in the fall of 2005. Medical records containing a diagnosis of both Bipolar disorder and Oppositional Defiant Disorder surfaced and I was brought before a man behind a fancy desk who told me my options. I was strongarmed into keeping my mouth shut about these conditions that I later learned make me undeployable. I was threatened with charges of false enlistment, jail time, and fines that I couldn’t pay along with revocation of my bonus, which at the time was very important to me.
In the end, I got on the plane and started a tour in Iraq that would change me forever. As I did my time in Iraq I encountered blatent racism, not only by soldiers towards local nationals, but by American contractors to third country nationals.
I found myself doing security on the FOB and at checkpoints and I did not like the way I was forced to manhandle the Iraqi civilians. We treated them poorly and soldiers would take things from their cars when they searched them. Sometimes a truck would go through the checkpoint and while searching it, a soldier might bargain with the driver. Access to the FOB only if he gave us some free stuff.
I was on “hot gun” in FOB Falcon, where we dropped 4,500 rounds of artillery on Baghdad without so much as a battle damage assessment report. I found this lack of accountability disturbing. Where did these rounds go? What if they hit the wrong house? My battalion botched many raids while we were over there and it struck me: If you hit the wrong house with artillery, you don’t apologize and buy them a new door. They just die. This is not an unreasonable stance as there was report of an incident where one of our illumination rounds flew through someone’s front door and burned out the inside of their house.
All in all, the only justification for the moral deplorability of war was simply, that this is war. Well I don’t agree with that and I cannot in good conscience, or at all support it any longer. I find myself ashamed that I would let something as petty as money make me participate in such hateful acts.
(3) An explanation as to how his or her beliefs changed or developed, to include an explanation of factors (how, when, and from whom or from what source, training received, and beliefs acquired) caused the change in or development of conscientious objection beliefs -
When I enlisted in September of 2005, I was really happy with the praise I received from my father, whom previously I did not have a good relationship with. People seemed to respect me more and I liked the extra money. All of these things seemed adequate compensation for any hardships I might endure, until I went to Iraq. Even though I got paid more, I was forced to do things I still have a difficult time living with. I had to do things I normally never would have done. For example, out on the street, I was the rear gunner for our 4 vehicle, maneuver platoon and I was always interacting with traffic and people. Since I had limited training and no prior knowledge of Arabic I relied on body language to express myself. This often resulted in angry outbursts due to frustration or the need to convey an angry message. I felt that this saved Iraqi lives by deterring bad or reckless drivers who might otherwise be interpreted as threats. I often felt guilty because of the way I made myself out to be to these people. My demeanor grew steadily more and more angry as time progressed. Finally my rage peaked with me aiming a rifle at a young Iraqi girl. I still have dreams about this. It was the most horrible experience of my life to see that little girl crying. That was the moment when I knew I could not make war any longer. Here is a literary account of the story:
“It was a hot July day, or maybe a June day or an August day. All chronological confusion aside, it was a hot day. It was already over 100 degrees and as the sun peaked over the skyline of the emerald city, the green zone of Baghdad, I felt a burning sensation as a strip of sunlight crested the top of the doghouse style gunner’s turret and beset itself on my neck. I shifted anxiously in my sleep as my butt fell asleep and my legs followed suit one by one. I leaned forward and rested my face on my rifle, the only semi-cool thing available, as I tried to find sleep among the radio checks and status reports in this headset that was giving me a splitting headache already. I felt the fresh sweat meet the sweat of falling asleep in yesterday’s uniform. All of a sudden a distant explosion slit the air and another thundered much closer and in a more relevant direction. My sleep problem solved, I stood up and did my radio checks as we finalized our preparations to roll out. As we rolled out I slipped into thought. Being the rear gunner, I saw everything roll out behind us as we traveled. In retrospect I find this very symbolic. We rolled through various checkpoints as we went and left the IZ for the “red zone”. For having such colorful names, these places are very drab. They should call the whole place the brown zone. As we turned onto a main supply route, we rolled down an exit ramp with chain link fences on both sides. We moved in a nauseating zig-zag path as we swerved through the concrete jersey barriers. The whole experience was comparable to a dysfunctional trip down some corrupt rabbit hole symbolic of the death of innocence. The replacement of my youth, by guns and grenades. An uneventful mile later I found myself in the traffic jam which always happened to be here on this day of the week at this time; coincidentally, this was always when we did this mission too. One car caught my eye as it seemed to have found the only clear path through the sea of shoddy cars and was headed directly towards me. I initiated escalation of force procedures and everything seemed to sit still. Like I was alone, viewing the world on my terms. My coworkers sleeping, the people walking, cars driving, yet surprisingly no horns beeping. This was seemingly odd, but I know better. Seemingly akward, but commonplace as a Smith in the phonebook. As the car approached me I went through my own program all the way up to the trigger pull. I didn‘t do it. I hesitated once more as the car crossed the final line authorizing deadly force by platoon SOP. I screamed one last threatening message, more resembling of a plea than a threat, and in mortal fear, I reluctantly raised my rifle to shoot out the tires. I breathed a sigh of relief as the car stopped, but it was then that I saw the little girl crying with a red dot on her forehead. I was looking at her through my M-68 red dot site. I saw those eyes, bottomless brown pools of innocence freshly stained by the image of an inhuman machine covered in wires, straps and armor. Sunglasses shielding the look of fear/guilt/ shame/ apology in my eyes. The truth I saw in her eyes that day as she cried penetrated 3 layers of ballistic glass to reach my eyes and 3 inches of plate and ceramic armor to forever change my heart. It wasn‘t an RPG or an AK-47. Not an EFP or IED, but the eyes of a little girl that forever changed my life”
(4) An explanation as to when these beliefs became incompatible with military service and why -
The major turning point was when I looked at that little girl through my red dot site. I was sick with myself. I physically vomited with the guilt several times over the course of the next few weeks. Every time I see my little brothers or any little kids I think about her and wonder how she is doing and whether she could ever forgive me. I wonder if she will remember me the way I remember her. I am so profoundly affected by this that I still dream about it and toss and turn at night.
The only thing that helps me sleep at night is working for peace. I have a lot of friends and family who are supportive and they have commented that since I have started doing peace work, such as protesting war, helping my fellow veterans, and writing, I have been far healthier. Since starting my packet for Conscientious Objector status I have been able to sleep soundly with minimal disturbances the dreams are far less common.
(5) An explanation to the circumstances, if any, under which the person believes in the use of force, and to what extent, under any foreseeable circumstance. -
Violent force is only excusable, in my opinion, when unavoidable. When exercised, it should be in proportion, not in excess.
I don’t think I could kill another person unless it was in the immediate and unavoidable threat of myself or my loved ones. I won’t kill anyone in the defense of money, property, or government interests. I believe that it is wrong to kill at all. All animals do it, but the free will we have to choose not to is what makes us human.
(6) An explanation as to what in the person’s life most conspicuously demonstrates the consistency and depth of his or her beliefs that have rise to his or her claim. -
Before the war I used to make a lot of tasteless jokes about the war, veterans with PTSD, and Iraqis dying. I used to play a lot of video games that were war related. I have lost all interest in these things. A friend bought me a recent release and I tried to get into it, but I just can’t. I avoid war movies like the plague, whereas before I used to love them.
My youngest brother was very proud when I joined the military. He paraded me around his school on leave and his whole bedroom is camouflage with army stuff everywhere. After Iraq, when I went home I was deeply upset and even though he seems intent on enlisting I take every opportunity to encourage him to explore his alternatives. I see him playing with toy tanks and planes and I know boys will be boys, but I worry about him.
(7) An explanation as to how the applicant’s daily lifestyle has changed as a result of his or her beliefs and what future he or she plans to continue or support his or her beliefs. -
I have been active in the peace community since my return from Iraq and it has helped me immensely. All of my worries of being labeled an antipatriotic person or a bad American were dispelled. I found my stance as a conscientious objector to be in good company. As General Smedley Butler said, “War is a racket” and I believe him. There have been other Conscientious Objectors who inspire me as well, such as Medal of Honor Winners Desmond T. Doss and Thomas W. Bennett, for whom the Bennett Troop Medical Clinic on the 4th Infantry Division side of Fort Hood is named after. Not to mention former Green Beret H. G. Duncan. As I embrace my beliefs and stay true to myself, I find pretty much all aspects of military life be offensive. It has been recommended that I seek non-combatant status, but I still feel that in doing that I am feeding the war machine and that is not acceptable to me.
I will never stop questing for peace and justice. In the words of John F. Kennedy: “War will exist until that distant day when the conscientious objector enjoys the same prestige that the warrior enjoys today"
"
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This is a log of harassment related the my Conscientious Objection application process. This is just in the first 3 days.
Incompetence:
SSG Mitchell, Anthony threatened to bust me. His reasoning? "We need to have a serious talk. I don't like your tactics. You pullin' some slick shit and coverin' it up with shit and shit"
SSG Mitchell, Anthony gave me an unlawful order to remove my Iraq Veterans Against the War member t shirt. I felt targeted since other people wore truly obscene clothing i.e. a hat with "COCKS" written on it and a shirt that just said plain and simple "FUCK"
Shortly after I informed my chain of command that I would be starting a CO Packet I was denied a mileage pass for a 3 day weekend. This pass was for right of passage to Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was denied by SSG Mitchell, Anthony on the grounds of a memo that was put out forbidding soldiers from crossing the mexican border. I informed him politely that New Mexico is indeed one of the United states of America and is located between Arizona and Texas. I let him know that Albuquerque is equally as distant from the border as Killeen is. I assured him that I said "New Mexico" and not "Mexico" and that I would not be crossing any international borders. To this he responded "Mexico, New Mexico, it's all the same damn think, you ain't crossin' the fuckin' border" and proceeded to hang up on me.
I believe it is an NCO's duty to help soldiers, but I have encountered only resistance.
SSG Mitchell, Monty answered the phone at 3-82FA BN staff duty and was unable to produce the full name of our BN commander. He was also openly hostile about me doing my own 4187 and chided me. He refused to help me. I had to call back to have PFC Real find the name on the sign outside and SGT Schultz helped me out as well, shortly after the matter.
Hostility:
SSG Cruz threatened to cut me if he ever saw me wearing my Iraq Veterans Against the War shirt again. "You better not ever wear that shirt again. If I ever see you wear that shirt I'll cut you"
