I can remember it as if it had happened yesterday. It was April 9, 2003 at the Dyala River Checkpoint we had set up with the Marines in Baghdad. I had seen so much up to that point, enough death to last many lifetimes and yet little did I know my tour of duty in Iraq was actually just beginning. The scenario that morning involved nearly 200 U.S. troops and well over 1000+ Iraqi civilians, all trying to enter the heart of the city to check on loved ones cut off in the fighting. We, however, received orders to prevent them from entering at all costs and as the hours passed, Iraqi frustration increased. Suddenly the large crowd of Iraqi civilians turned into an angry mob demanding we leave at once. Immediately, we responded to the riot as harshly as we could. How clearly I remember the screams and cries of Iraqis as they watched their loved ones pulled from the crowd by soldiers and marines, beaten and detained for an indefinite period. I remember how we selected the detainees, essentially grabbing those who did not appear to be intimidated by us. That morning we detained Iraqis for what only could have been perceived as walking in their own country like free men and the only thing I can remember thinking is “How can I tell the people back home what happened here?”

This past Memorial Day weekend, I was able to show the nation exactly what I experienced that day in Iraq. Following a press conference in Times Square, I and eight other Iraq Veterans in desert camouflage uniforms confronted about thirty activists playing the role of an occupied people. It was just like I remember it, the screams, the detentions, the pushing, and the chaotic reaction as we put our imaginary rifles in their faces. It was real, very real. The only difference I can remember is that the level of violence we used this time was obviously much less as well as a significantly lower number of detainees than in the real situation.
It was all part of Operation First Casualty II, a street theatre campaign launched by veterans of Iraq designed to bring the truth of the war back to the shores of our country. It took place in New York City, specifically the boroughs of Manhattan and Brooklyn. Never had I imagined being able to replay the horrific actions that we took part in to the American people on a national stage.
Upon performing the action and seeing the faces of confused bystanders, apparently shocked by the way in which the action went down, I began to wonder if anyone understood what sacrifice it took to do what we were doing. Personally, as soon as we began patrolling the streets, I caught myself slowly shifting into the role I had once performed on the streets of Iraq. Perhaps people saw us and thought us to be acting, but I can only say of myself, after a short period I found myself honestly checking windows of tall buildings looking for snipers. My arms had become rigid as if they were made to hold a rifle. No longer was an alley just that, they all became danger areas I needed to use increased vigilance while crossing. In short, within just a short while I was reliving a nightmare. It was frightening to realize how easily I could re-assume that role I had once performed in Iraq and quite frankly it bothered me slightly that some people assumed us to be “actors” because I can assure those people, we were not acting.
Out of all the comments I heard that day, the one that seems to stand out more than the others was made by an unassuming middle-aged woman who upon seeing us said, “Those guys must be actors, they’re too young to be veterans.” How blatant was the ignorance of that woman that she did not even know who is fighting this war. Since all of us had already served in Iraq, it actually meant that we were even younger when we went to war. It is true, we may look young, but I only wish that I could tell that woman how long each of us had lived.
Once the action had ended, I was able to slowly re-emerge from the soldier I once had been what seems like a lifetime ago. As time went on, I gradually checked windows for snipers less and less. It became easier to walk by an alley without checking it for “the enemy.” Most importantly, I viewed people as, not a potential threat like I had during the patrol, but as what they really were, Human Beings. It was a reminder to how much we dehumanized each other while at war, and I was thankful that I was able to recognize how wrong engaging in such a process of degradation is.
As for the thousands that witnessed the story we were sharing in New York City, I can only hope they were touched the same way we were. I am sure they were frightened and uncomfortable with the actions we were taking, but that is exactly the way we should all feel about what is happening right now in Iraq. Operation First Casualty marks the beginning of a new phase in the struggle against this war. Each day there are more and more veterans coming forward against this war, and OFC is only one expression of this dissent. I can promise that this struggle will only increase until the last one of us is home.