October 23-29, 2003

city beat

Gale Warning

by Daryl Gale

Willie’s War

Even as we stand on the eve of one of the biggest, nastiest elections in Philadelphia history, I’ve decided that this week’s column won’t include one single word about FBI probes, bugs, embezzlement, or a mayor’s race that’s turned this city into a racial powder keg with a lit fuse. Instead, I want to talk about the war in Iraq, and an example of the brave young men and women over there at constant risk of being picked off like ducks at a shooting gallery.

I met one of those men Monday afternoon. Willie Sly wandered into City Paper's offices looking for me. But quite unlike some of the folks who've been around here lately looking for me, Willie just wanted to shake my hand.

A U.S. Army military policeman, Willie is just back from Baghdad, where he saw Saddam's statue get toppled, and watched several of his comrades fall in the aftermath. I have written about a few of my acquaintances from Philly who were called to active duty. Like my friend Paul Earthquake Moore, a community activist and former light-heavyweight contender from my old Southwest Philly neighborhood who knocked me silly many years ago boxing at PAL. And Ozzie Wright, my old tae kwon do sensei who was plucked from his job as principal of West Philadelphia High School and shipped off to war. He also knocked me silly many years ago, but I digress.

Willie told me that he'd read my piece about the Philly-Iraq connection while in Baghdad and that there's a strong contingent of Philly guys over there who tend to gravitate toward each other. Apparently, someone's mom ships over a City Paper in the care package, and although it arrives weeks late, they share the newspaper with each other. Like all soldiers, they complain about the conditions, swap lies and dream of getting back home to stuff their faces with Mom's cooking. I asked Willie if he was ever afraid there.

"Every day," he replied. "You'd have to be crazy not to be scared. It's not a war against an army the way most people think about that. It's car bombs, land mines and sniper fire. One minute your buddy is talking to you and the next minute he's gone."

Willie talked matter-of-factly, even casually, about death and dismemberment, but his eyes tell the story. He looks tired and a little sad. We talk a bit about the soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines in harm's way over there, and a bit about the day-to-day pain in the ass of military service. Learning that I spent six years in the U.S. Coast Guard, Willie seems genuinely glad to find out that I'm a veteran, and we swapped a few service jokes (none of which should be published in a family newspaper). But the truth is folks, my total military action consisted of four days as a photojournalist in Grenada during Reagan's mini-war, where I mostly shot random photos and got drunk with Marines. I wouldn't dare attempt to compare that to watching guys you know and love get blown to smithereens by a car bomb.

What we didn't talk about are the government policies and the politicians at the core of the Iraqi conflict. We don't have to. Guys like Willie don't make policy, they follow orders. It's up to us civilians to examine policy, and it's up to us newspaper reporters to ask the tough questions of the policymakers. And while I have no doubt that Willie and his comrades are performing their jobs admirably, I sometimes question whether we civilians, and especially we newspaper reporters, are performing ours.

Are we holding President Bush's feet to the fire to tell the truth of why our young people are dying over there? Yeah, yeah, I know, weapons of mass destruction – except we can't find any. Saddam Hussein is a brutal and vicious dictator – but we can't find him either.

Try as they might, Bush, Rumsfeld, and Cheney and Co. still haven't found a significant link between Hussein and the 9/11 attacks, even though we keep hearing that this is a war on terror. And speaking of Cheney, are we just going to let him sweep this whole Halliburton connection under the rug? Looks like it. In the name of national security, we've passed the Patriot Act, giving the government unprecedented powers to spy on and arrest American citizens, and declare them enemy combatants without benefit of counsel, a speedy trial or any of the other protections guaranteed by the Constitution. Somewhere George Orwell is laughing his ass off.

No, Willie and I didn't discuss any of those things. For him, the war is much more personal than that. Before he left, Willie told me that he's got to return to the war zone next month, but may be back again early next year. We shook hands and hugged, and Willie kissed me on the cheek.

"It's a blessing to know that people back home care and are willing to include us in the newspaper sometimes," he said. "I just wanted to thank you."

No, Willie Sly. Thank you.

Daryl Gale’s weekly radio show, Dialogues, with co-hosts Rotan Lee and Bill Miller, is burning up the airwaves Fridays 7-10 a.m. on WURD (900 AM) in Philadelphia.