freedetainees.org

COMMENTARY

I’m a captain in the U.S. Army, an institution I love and respect, and one that has made me a better man. The Army has taught me how to relate to people of various ethnic backgrounds and socioeconomic classes. It has taught me how to stay calm under fire. It has taught me how to exact discipline and how to approach people with different personalities in different ways.

All these lessons will, I’m convinced, make me a better friend, a better husband and, one day, a better father.

But after four years, I’ve decided to resign my commission and leave the Army.

This isn’t what I envisioned when I joined up in 2004 as a 24-year-old college graduate. I hoped to spend at least eight years in the service, maybe more. I wanted to lead troops in combating terrorism and making our home front safe. I wanted to command a company, something you can achieve in about six to eight years. Instead, come April 1, I’ll take off my uniform for good and become a civilian again.

And I’m not alone. Many other captains I know are making the same decision or considering it. Let me be clear: I’m not a spokesman for some mythical “United Bureau of Captains Leaving the Army.” But I’ve heard a collective echo arising from the ranks of captains who are leaving. My reasons strike a chord with many of them.

Those reasons are threefold: First, I’m about to get married, and I want a family. Second, I can earn as much or more in the civilian world as I do in the Army. And finally, my experience with war has left me feeling angry, frustrated and mismanaged.

I’ve lost confidence that I can serve both a wife and the Army. Staying in would mean six months of Army schooling in the Captain Career Course. We’d have to move from Seattle to Georgia or Kentucky. Then I’d move again to a deploying unit or become an adviser to the Iraqi army for another 12 to 15 months. My wife would be uprooted and replanted in a place where she’d be alone, knowing no one, and without the job she loves. She’d be unable to pursue her goals or use her talents. That’s no recipe for marital bliss.

Also, soldiers need to train, so I’d spend a lot of time away in the field — at weapons ranges or training centers, or fighting simulated battles. A marriage needs time to blossom. But a captain’s career path, whether he’s deployed or at home, can bulldoze it before it blooms. And deploying every other year raises certain obvious challenges to starting a family.

I, and others like me, feel that we have to choose: family or Army. Each person’s situation may be different, but we’re all in the same shoes … and they stink.

Second, I feel no financial pressure to “stay Army.” I’m confident that I’ll be able to land a job that pays enough to cover a mortgage and put food on the table. Most captains have college degrees. We find phrases such as “stock options,” “incentives” or “no firearms permitted in the building” enticing. We like the idea of promotion based on merit, not a timeline. Some want to work for the FBI or the CIA, agencies they believe are more effective in the fight against terrorism.

A drop in salary won’t hurt me, even if I have to pay for medical coverage. Besides, money isn’t my motivation for serving — which is why I find no incentive in the Army’s $25,000 to $35,000 bonus for staying in.

Finally, I’m frustrated by the war and how I was managed and blocked in doing my job in Iraq.

My mission as a platoon leader was to clean up police corruption and reintegrate the Iraqi police into the security structure of Ghazaliyah, a district in western Baghdad. Over time, my platoon built a relationship of trust with Iraqi policemen, who gave us leads on insurgents. On one patrol, we detained a Sunni who had threatened local residents, preventing them from participating in a clinic we had restarted.

A search of his home yielded illegal weapons, sniper bullets, insurgent propaganda, gobs of money and lists of Iraqi political and military officials’ addresses. When we learned that he was the leading Sunni insurgent in Ghazaliyah, our platoon felt like world-beaters. Morale surged. Finding this man validated counterinsurgency theory. It taught my men to be patient, and gave them pride. Moreover, a change came over our counterparts in the Iraqi police. You could see their hope awakening.

So, good grab, right? Wrong. We later had to release the detainee. Somehow the evidence to hold him was lacking — even though he had discussed his role in sectarian violence under questioning by our intelligence officers. Most of the evidence we had collected against him was never analyzed. Later, I found out that our detainee was politically well-connected. We lost credibility with the Iraqi police. And we were ticked off at the waste of our time and our unnecessary exposure to danger.

It’s possible that there was some great rationale for releasing this man. But my men and I will never know why he was really let go. We knew that he was contributing to sectarian violence. Could someone at least tell my men that everything they did counted for something? What did I risk their lives for?

I love a lot about the Army, and I don’t want anyone to think that it’s an evil institution. It’s not. But I can’t stay in any longer. It will be too long before I’ve achieved enough rank to work to change it. That’s for generals and colonels, which is 16 years away for me, assuming that I’d keep getting promoted. My desire to start a family, the possibility of other jobs and my frustrations have combined to usher me into a new season of life earlier than I had planned.

Rogers served in Iraq from June 2006 to September 2007. This column first ran in The Washington Post.

March 18th, 2008 | Category: Iraq Veterans |  Print This Post | Subscribe to comments | Leave a comment | Trackback URL