For more information:
Callie R. Oettinger, callie@o-a-inc.com
Ph: 703-451-2476, Fax: 703-451-6870

Talking Points

On Board with War

Pages 16–18

We all wanted payback. But we had to be sure we were counterattacking the right country. I was personally insulted by the way President Bush had used 9/11 to propel the country to war in Iraq.

But Colin Powell was on Board. And his opinion held serious weight with me... As the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff after the 1991 Gulf War, Powell outlined his requirements for decisive military action, later popularly referred to as the "Powell Doctrine." Essentially, the doctrine expresses that military action should only be used as a last resort, and only if there is a clear risk to America's national security... He gave me reason to think that Saddam might actually have WMD.

Beyond the threat of his WMD, Saddam had proven to be an evil and oppressive monster. He and his sons brutalized an entire nation into submission. The world knew of Saddam's atrocities... He definitely had it coming.

Bush said killing Saddam was not the primary reason he was sending us, but if we made that happen, it would be a good result nonetheless. I saw the appeal of Machiavellian logic. In the end, it may be acceptable to do the right thing for the wrong reasons.

Mission Accomplished: Prepare for Battle

Pages 39–40

On May 1 [Bush] pulled some real John Wayne shit, piloting a fighter jet onto the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln, where he posed under a big banner that read MISSION ACCOMPLISHED and told the world that "major combat operations in Iraq have ended." He thanked all the troops for "a job well done."

What the fuck? Mission accomplished? The war was over? And Bravo Company hadn't even fired a round.

That very same morning, May 1, after chow, our orders finally came down. At first we thought it was another chain-of-command jerk job, but it turned out to be true. Bravo Company was moving north to Baghdad.

Mission accomplished, my ass, Mr. President.  

Are You in Mr. President?

Page 271

I called the Bush campaign headquarters. I told the kid who answered the phone that I had just returned from Iraq. That I had some serious issues about how policies had affected my men during our time at war. I also left messages with the Veterans for Bush campaign.

No one called me back.

Calling Senator Kerry

Page 271

Kerry didn't really seem to want to address Iraq either. The only thing more disturbing to me than the Republican mismanagement of the war in Iraq was the Democrats inability to capitalize on it politically.

Page 272

I called the Kerry campaign headquarters both in New York and in Washington. Repeatedly, I was ready to give up hope on them too, when I got a call from a New York Vietnam vet who worked for the campaign. He asked if I'd like to meet the senator at LaGuardia Airport two days later.... Typically for the unorganized Kerry campaign machine, I got two more calls that day from different campaign people asking me if I'd like to go to LaGuardia Airport to meet John Kerry. I hoped that if Kerry got elected his staff wouldn't be that uncoordinated with smart bombs.

Page 276–277

He extended his hand and I introduced myself... He said I looked too young to have been in Vietnam or the Gulf. I told him he was right, I had been in Iraq. His eyes focused tighter and the smile dropped.... "Senator, it's not getting better. It's bad. And it's getting worse... He asked me, "Are you involved in the campaign?"

I said, "Senator, I want to be, but your campaign is screwing it up. I want to fix this problem. And there are lots of other guys like me." I offered to be on the plane with him daily. Whatever it took to help him understand Iraq.

He told me he wanted me involved. He called a staffer over and told her to make sure she followed up with me soon. I took her card. And a deep breath.

Remarks of Paul Rieckhoff
Democratic Radio Address to the Nation
Saturday, May 1, 2004

Page 289–292

Good morning. My name is Paul Rieckhoff. I am addressing you this morning as a U.S. citizen and veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I served with the U.S. Army in Iraq for ten months, concluding in February 2004.

I'm giving this address because I have an agenda, and my agenda is this: I want my fellow soldiers to come home safely, and I want a better future for the people of Iraq. I also want people to know the truth.

War is never easy. But I went to Iraq because I made a commitment to my country. When I volunteered for duty, I knew I would end up in Baghdad. I knew that's where the action would be, and I was ready for it.

But when we got to Baghdad, we soon found out that the people who planned this war were not ready for us. There were not enough vehicles, not enough ammunition, not enough medical supplies, not enough water. Many days, we patrolled the streets of Baghdad in 120-degree heat with only one bottle of water per soldier. There was not enough body armor, leaving my men to dodge bullets with Vietnam-era flak vests. We had to write home and ask for batteries to be included in our care packages. Our soldiers deserved better.

When Baghdad fell, we soon found out that the people who planned this war were not ready for that day either. Al-Azamiyah, the area in Baghdad we had been assigned to, was certainly not stable. The Iraqi people continued to suffer. And we dealt with shootings, killings, kidnappings, and robberies for most of the spring.

We waited for troops to fill the city and Military Police to line the streets. We waited for foreign aid to start streaming in by the truckload. We waited for interpreters to show up and supply lines to get fixed. We waited for more water. We waited and we waited and the attacks on my men continued... and increased.

With too little support and too little planning, Iraq had become our problem to fix. We had nineteen-year-old kids from the heartland interpreting foreign policy, in Arabic. This is not what we were designed to do. Infantrymen are designed to close with and kill the enemy.

But as Infantrymen, and also as Americans, we made do, and we did the job we were sent there for--and much more.

One year ago today, our president had declared that major combat operations in Iraq were over. We heard of a 'Mission Accomplished' banner, and we heard him say that 'Americans, following battle, want nothing more than to return home.'

Well, we were told that we would return home by July Fourth. Parades were waiting for us. Summer was waiting for us. I wrote my brother in New York and told him to get tickets for the Yankees-Red Sox series in the Bronx. Baseball was waiting for us. Our families were waiting for us.

But three days before we were supposed to leave, we were told that our stay in Iraq would be extended, indefinitely. The violence intensified, the danger persisted, and the instability grew. And despite what George Bush said, our mission was not accomplished.

Our Platoon had been away from their families for seven months. Two babies had been born. Three wives had filed for divorce and a fiancée sent a ring back to a kid in Baghdad. Thirty-nine men missed their homes. And they wouldn't see their homes for another eight months.

But we pulled together--we took care of each other and we continued our mission. The mission kept us going. The mission was to secure Iraq and help the Iraqi people. We saw firsthand the terrible suffering that they had endured. We protected a hospital and kept a school safe from sniper fire. We saw hope in the faces of Iraqi children who may have the chance to grow up as free as our own.

And still, we waited for help. And still, the people who planned this war watched Iraq fall into chaos and refused to change course.

Some men with me were wounded. One of my Squad Leaders lost both legs in combat. But our Platoon was lucky--all thirty-nine of us came home alive.

Too many of our friends and fellow soldiers did not share that same fate. Since President Bush declared major combat operations over, more than five hundred and ninety American soldiers have been killed. Over five hundred and ninety men and women who were waiting for parades. Who were waiting for summer. Who were waiting for help.

Since I've returned, there are two images that continue to replay themselves in my mind. One is the scrolling list of American causalities shown daily on the news--a list reminding me that this April has become the bloodiest month of combat so far, with more than one hundred and thirty soldiers killed.

The other image is of President Bush at his press conference two weeks ago. After all the waiting, after all the mistakes we had experienced firsthand over in Iraq, after another year of a policy that was not making the situation any better for our friends who are still there, he told us we were staying the course. He told us we were making progress. And he told us that, 'We're carrying out a decision that has already been made and will not change.'

Our troops are still waiting for more body armor. They are still waiting for better equipment. They are still waiting for a policy that brings in the rest of the world and relieves their burden. Out troops are still waiting for help.

I am not angry with our president, but I am disappointed.

I don't expect an easy solution to the situation in Iraq. I do expect an admission that there are serious problems that need serious solutions.

I don't expect our leaders to be free of mistakes. I expect our leaders to own up to them.

In Iraq, I was responsible for the lives of thirty-eight other Americans. We laughed together, we cried together, we won together, and we fought together. And when we failed, it was my job as their leader to take responsibility for the decisions I made--no matter what the outcome.

My questions for President Bush--who led the planning of this war so long ago--is this: When will you take responsibility for the decisions you've made in Iraq and realize that something is wrong with the way things are going?

Mr. President, our mission is not accomplished.

Our troops can accomplish it. We can build a stable Iraq, but we need some help. The soldiers I served with are men and women of extraordinary courage and incredible capability. But it's time we had leadership in Washington to match the courage and match that capability.

I work for the future of Iraq and for my Iraqi friends. I worry for my fellow soldiers still fighting this battle. I worry for their families, and I worry for those families who will not be able to share another summer or another baseball game with the loved ones they've lost. And I pledge that I will do everything I can to make sure they have not died in vain and that the truth is heard.

Thank you for listening.

No Thanks, Senator Kerry: Searching for a Third Option

Page 298

The moment I went public with my critique of the war, I started to hear from hundreds of young men and women eager to speak out on these issues. But in the 2004 political arena, who was listening? It sure wasn't the Bush campaign. For a while, by default, we still pinned our hopes on Kerry.

I met with Kerry in person for the second and last time one hot June night in Minneapolis, in an intense closed-door meeting with him, Senator Max Cleland of Georgia, some of the Vietnam vets known as the Band of Brothers, and a few Kerry advisors. We were supposedly there to offer advice for the final push of the campaign. We pulled our chairs in a circle and talked over beer bottles.

At one point Kerry asked us all who we thought he should choose as his running mate. A few in the room mentioned John McCain. Rumors had circulated in the press for weeks about secret meetings between Kerry and McCain. Getting McCain to abandon Bush to run as Kerry's VP would change history. Together they could beat Bush. But Kerry made it clear that the McCain option was not on the table....  

Instead, Kerry asked us about Dick Gephardt. Everyone reacted tepidly. Then I proposed Wes Clark, arguing that in times of war, Americans trust a general. Generals project strength, which Democrats seriously needed. And Clark would bring in the most Independents and Republicans.

A few weeks later, ignoring our advice, Kerry chose Senator John Edwards. Politics as usual....

Clearly, the John Kerry of 1971 could've never gotten into see the John Kerry of 2004. We were chasing ghosts again.

I came back from Minneapolis sorely disillusioned and angry. John Kerry was not the passionate activist he had been thirty years ago....

I realized then that I had no candidate and no party. Just as in Iraq, veterans returning home were given limited resources, left to fend for themselves, and to make their own plan. A tremendous gap between the public and the truth existed in the national dialogue about Iraq, because the firsthand perspective, which only those who served on the ground could provide, was not being told.

It was clear we veterans would have to do it ourselves. Adapt, improvise, and overcome. We needed to abandon convention and take care of our own. We created our own nonpartisan forum for the troops to tell their stories, so the American people could make informed decisions about the issues affecting America and hold leaders from both parties accountable.

I invited a few Iraq vets volunteering for the Kerry campaign to defect and join me.

Iraq Veterans and the 2006 Congressional Elections

Page 309

Iraq veterans will change the course not only for Iraq, but also for the critical 2006 congressional elections. The Republicans have gotten us into this mess, and the Democrats don't have a plan to get us out. They alone have the credibility to reach across party lines and represent all Americans. George Washington once wrote, "When we assumed the soldier, we did not lay aside the citizen." Our combat veterans understand service better than anyone. America's next generation of leaders will be forged on the battlefields of Fallujah and Ramadi. They will lay the groundwork for a populist political movement that challenges the status quo in America and propels veterans into Congress for decades to come. Iraq vets can heal our divided country, strengthen our tattered reputation, and remind us who we really are.

They are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan right now. Or they served nobly and have returned.

If you really want to support the troops, listen to them. Vote for them. A future president of the United States is among them somewhere.

George Bush wasn't fucking right. But now we have the means to fix what he broke.

We fought for America in Iraq. It is time for the next fight--the fight for America back home.

Bring it on.

Patriotism Lite: We Support the Troops--Just not on Campus.
Liberalize the Military Somewhere Else

Pages 279–281

I'd been contacted by a fellow Amherst College alumnus who wanted to do a story on my time in Iraq for the college magazine.... As a result of that interview, the president of the college invited me to come to speak to the students....

On the campus of a small liberal arts school in Massachusetts, the only sight more unusual than a soldier in uniform would be a blue elephant riding a unicycle. Amherst is an open-minded and respectful place, but like many of the more exclusive New England colleges, it's detached from the military. The political clouds of the Vietnam War still hang heavy over Amherst. Although not a single graduate was killed in Vietnam, the college was the site of a famous graduation day antiwar protest in 1966, when an architect of that war, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, was awarded an honorary degree. Graduating seniors wore black armbands and turned their backs to McNamara as he spoke.

McNamara later wrote in In Retrospect, "What disturbed me most during my campus visits was the realizations that opposition to the administration's Vietnam policy increased with the institution's prestige and the educational attainment of its students. At Amherst, those protesting my presence wore armbands. I counted the number and calculated the percentage of protesters in each of four groups: graduates, cum laude graduates, magna cum laude graduates, and summa cum laude graduates. To my consternation the percentages rose with the level of academic distinction."

As at many of the Ivy and Little Ivy colleges, Amherst doesn't have an ROTC program. Schools had forced the

military off campuses in response to Vietnam and kept it off decades later to protest the policy on homosexuality.

In removing the military influence from the campus, Amherst also removed the influence of the college on the military. Amherst graduates were in positions of power in every critical area of American culture except the military. No one in military uniform had spoken on the campus since the 1970s. I didn't know if the students would applaud or throw eggs at me.

Iraq's Civil War: Taking a Page from American History

Pages 108–109

It's tough for me to communicate to people who have never been to Iraq why I don't think the different sects will get along peacefully any time soon. America can't just take groups separated for decades, sprinkle some freedom on them, and create a Woodstock lovefest. I try to look for analogies or historic parallels that help break it down in a way that explains all the unexplainables. This is not perfect, but it is the best I can come up with: Iraq in the summer of 2003 reminded me of the American South around the time of the abolition of slavery.

Slavery formally ended in America in 1865. Imagine an outside nation walking into America a few years before that and telling slaves and slave owners to work together, forget their differences, and live happily in equality. They would have to work together as partners on a police force. Imagine a slave having command over a slave owner in a new army. Imagine them sitting next to each other as equals in a classroom. They would suddenly be told that despite their history of abuse and animosity, they had been deemed equals by an outside force. Slaves and slave owners had hated each other for generations. They were used to being superior and inferior, to having power and being powerless. They were accustomed to a framework and understanding built upon decades of abuse and divisions. There is no way it would work. There's just too much history there.

Change might happen, yes. But not in two years. When the South was subjected to an "everybody just get along" policy during Reconstruction, the whites rebelled, and the result was the Jim Crow era, when violence and hatred toward blacks reached their highest levels, ever.

In America today, generations after the legal end of slavery, we still have divisions and animosity between the two races. If you don't think so, you're either sheltered or deluded. Incidents like the Rodney King beating and Hurricane Katrina revealed America's hypocrisy to ourselves, and to the world. After more than two hundred years America hasn't overcome its own divided history. Yet in Iraq we expect Sunni and Shia to get along amiably two years after we knock out Saddam, because America says they should.

Breaking Hearts & Minds

Pages 166–167

Iraq is like an entire country with battered woman syndrome. U.S. forces are like cops responding to a domestic violence case. We have removed the abusive husband, but the wife and children are not "all better" the day their oppressor gets locked up. The family has deep mental and physical wounds that will not disappear overnight. They desperately need care, treatment, and time to heal properly. And to compound the problem, the cops have eaten from the fridge, busted the TV, and left the front door open with a broken lock...

Right now we are making more enemies than we are killing in Iraq, and it is a net loss. It is like we're pouring water on Gizmo, from the 1984 movie Gremlins. In the film, when water accidentally spills on a mysterious and exotic pet, a Mogwai named Gizmo, it causes him to multiply and produce a number of mischievous little brothers. Among these offspring is the exceptionally nasty-tempered Stripe. And just like Stripe, a Muqtada al-Sadr or al-Zaquari leads a violent uprising that unleashes massive violence and destruction on the local population.

Know Your Enemy: Why Iraq isn't Working

Page 35

Sergeant Lee and I invented Kuwaiti Quiz Night while stuck on a twenty-four-hour Battle Captain duty. We asked the soldiers a variety of questions and bet each other cups of coffee and tins of chewing tobacco on the results.

Question: Who is the vice president of the United States?

Answers included Joe Lieberman, Donald Rumsfeld, George Bush. Most of the Platoon, about 60 percent, got it wrong.

Question: What is the capital of New York?

New York City was not an unreasonable guess, but Connecticut? Only about 5 percent got that one.

Question: What is the capital of Kuwait?

More than one soldier answered Iraq. Most didn't have any clue. After a night of this, I was seriously concerned about America's ability to invade the correct country.

The Media

Page 36

Geraldo Rivera came swaggering into the mess hall with a goofy grin. The word was that they had kicked his happy ass out of the Division because he was disclosing troop movements on TV. Idiot. He seemed to think he was doing play-by-play at the Super Bowl. Our war was just another car chase or celebrity trial for him to cover. Fucking press. I wanted to rip that cheesy mustache off his face and feed it to him.

Pages 216–217

They never got the other side. The Iraqi side. When was the last time you saw Col. Ollie North interviewing an Iraqi about Operation Kickass or whatever clever name the Army came up with? It would be the equivalent of a reporter covering the story of a white cop shooting a black man in an American inner city, and only interviewing the cops, not the family and neighbors, to get their take on the event. You'd only get 50 percent of the story. And a very slanted 50 percent.

Most of the press sat in the protected palace enclave sharing the same sources and calling themselves investigative journalists. If reporters wanted to the get the real story, they would have to go and walk the streets of Iraq without military protection. They might get their heads cut off, but it'd be a hell of a story.

War reporting should not be about balance. It should be about accuracy. There's never a perfect equilibrium of good and bad news stories in any situation. People always complain that the news doesn't show enough good stories coming out of Iraq. That's because it is a war zone. If you want good news stories, go to Disneyland.

For grunts, having a reporter or a TV crew around was mainly just a pain in the ass. Most of them were what we called "jock-sniffers." Many just wanted to do their time in the war zone so they could earn their combat-reporting stripes and get the hell home. Some guys tolerated the press better than others. I'll never forget the day one of my Squad Leaders radioed from the gas station to say there were people there who demanded to speak to me.

"Who, Willie?"

A bit sheepishly, he replied that a couple of French reporters had been making nuisances of themselves and refusing to heed his orders, so he'd handcuffed them to a lamppost.

"Doggone Frenchies wouldn't listen to me, L.T!" he barked. "I done told 'em! But they didn't listen to me. So I tied 'em up like doggone hogs to a pole! Now they gone listen."

Page 255

In the hotel room late at night, I watched the nightly news and a show starring Donald Trump I heard had become pretty popular since we left. As I soaked in all that I had missed, I realized I was glad I had missed most of it. It was crap. Especially the news. There was barely a mention of the war at all. Groundbreaking issues like Janet Jackson's exposed breast at the Super Bowl dominated the news. The names of soldiers dying each day in Iraq weren't even mentioned. It didn't feel like the country even knew we were at war. I felt guilty being home.

Things they Carried

Page 4

A lot of guys in the Army have tattoos around the same area--but a few inches higher, and in a much different design. Soldiers call them meat tags. A meat tag is a copy of the Army dog tag you wear around your neck, tattooed on your torso, just below your armpit. A meat tag isn't just a hard-core status symbol. It's a way to identify your body if the torso is all that remains after you'd blown apart. Name, Social Security number, and religious affiliation (if any). Call it thinking ahead. Prep for combat. Another safety measure, like an extra pair of socks.

Today's Warrior--All Volunteer

Page 6

We are not like many of our predecessors in Vietnam or World War Two, who were drafted. Their numbers came up and they put their lives on the line because they had to. We who went to Iraq chose to risk out lives doing this. We volunteered for this shit. And we volunteered our families for this shit.

Page 8

I had been afforded tremendous opportunities in this country and I wanted to give something back. In a democracy, the military should be representative of the population. Just because I didn't have to go didn't mean I shouldn't go. I felt that if, God forbid, my generation had a war and I didn't do my part, I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror or be a good father to my future children.... It may sound sick, but it was the oldest, and ultimate, extreme sport.

Source of Recruiting Shortages

Pages 8–10

Clearly, Sergeant Super Mario did not know what the hell to do with me. A college kid had never walked into his office demanding to join the Army, and he was actually stupid enough to tell me so. His eyes darted around the room, like he was afraid he was on Candid Camera.

Every person I ever knew who had worn a uniform for the United States had warned me about clowns like this. I was planning to defer a six-figure job on Wall Street to join the Army, and I was damn fucking sure I was not going to spend the next four years of my life peeling military potatoes in Alaska....  

After a few moments of shuffling, Mario recovered from his initial surprise.... For every topic I raised, he and the Army recruiting machine were ready with materials, talking points, and a supercharged three-minute music video produced by Leo Burnett advertising. (Ironically, I had turned down a job offer from them only two months earlier.) America's tax dollars at work. The presentation was perfectly designed to target my precise demographic--middle/middle class, MTV-watching, videogame-playing, Doritos-eating, action-hero

wannabe.... "

The multi-media assault and crafty acronyms even made playing the tuba in the Army band seem cool.

"And check this out, kid. Follow-on school for band is only two weeks long!" Mario proudly told me.

I was already in the door and it was his job to close the deal. But I saw through the pitch. I didn't want to join the Army to play the xylophone.

Leadership

Page 8

I wanted to learn to be a leader in an environment where courage mattered. I didn't care what any Human Resources robot from Goldman Sachs tried to tell me, being a mid-level manager at an investment bank is not leadership. Bond traders telling rich people what to do with their money is not leadership. Going to graduate school and pushing paper for a few years is not either. Real leadership is motivating others under tremendous adversity. True leaders are forged by leading men in combat.

Page 198

We linked up with the weapons squad and mounted the truck for the long ride home. Weapons squad told us that they had watched ready, with fingers on triggers, as we hit the house. They said they were nervous as hell for us and felt helpless. All they could see was the flashes of lights, dust, and shadows. They also told us that the Colonel who sent us on the mission, the "till the death" guy, showed up soon after we hit the house. He sat in a Humvee across the street and drank coffee from a travel cup. One soldier said it looked like he was watching a football game.

9/11

Pages 88, 89 & 92

I had just quit my job at J.P. Morgan four days earlier. I was planning to spend the day sleeping in late, going to the dentist, and taking the train up to the Bronx to play some golf.... As I saw the first tower smoking on CNN, I went numb. Training kicked in as I assembled my Web gear in fast forward.... I got downtown sometime after the second tower fell.

Page 91–92

We found an older woman's body stuck beneath a mammoth block of concrete.... Concrete and steel locked her into the pit.... All day we worked at a frantic pace to find the living and recover the dead. There were so many more we needed to save, and this one body was slowing us down terribly. We worried that if a fire started, and we didn't get at least part of her out, her family would never know.... Limited on tools, a fireman had an effective and grisly idea. And we all agreed to it. It was a collective decision, and any possible repercussions would not be pinned on him alone.

Burned in my mind forever were the tears that streamed down his face as he raised a shovel high above his head and drove it thudding into her bloated midsection. We had cut her body in half at the waist. Half a dozen men wept in mournful awe as the young fireman continued to labor, until he realized the shovel was not sharp enough to cut through her spine. A young doctor rushed up and fell to his knees. As he lifted the scalpel, he fell in a heap, crying uncontrollably. The exhausted fireman with the shovel dropped his tool and put his arms around the doctor, saying, "Doc, you have to do it man. You're doing the right thing. It's the only way we can get her out. You can do it Doc." He nodded, choked back tears and cut through the last resilient parts of her spine with his hands. It was the most macabre and selfless act I had ever seen.

Soundtrack to War

Page 2

I slid my CD headphones over my ears. I tried to shut out the endless cacophony of yelling, farting, gear rattling, spitting, and snoring with headphones streaming System of a Down, Linkin Park, and Jay-Z. The emotional oasis of a temporary musical vacation helped all of us forget we were constantly surrounded by thirty-eight other men.

Page 33

Music was always my escape. A CD player in a Ziploc bag was my personal treasure. One song a day. A four-minute vacation to preserve my sanity. A brown leather zippered case held thirty carefully selected CDs, ranging from Miles Davis to Metallica. A CD for every mood. Three of them were of my girlfriend's music: one studio album, one recorded live in a New York bar, and one solo acoustic from a Washington, D.C., club. They were the CDs I listened to the most. Her music kept me close to her in spirit, and the sound of a female's voice was foreign and soothing.

Page 183

Our position was totally compromised. The village two clicks up could hear us now. Nothing to do now but wipe the laugh-tears from our eyes, pack-up, and go home. I'd just gotten the new Black Eyed Peas CD in the mail anyway.

Page 258

I spent my days lying on the beach, reading books, and staring at the ocean. I let my mind unwind as I basked in the air-conditioned hut, watching a fuzzy-pictured TV without cable and taking long naps. In the evenings, we ate key lime pie and swordfish at outdoor cafes. At night, I drank $80 bottles of Scotch out of a coffee cup on the sand until dawn, listening to Stevie Ray Vaughn, Jack Johnson, Linkin Park, and Johnny Cash on my iPod. I played Cash's devastating cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt" over and over again. The song reduced me to tears.

Page 326

Balance is never truly achieved, and sanity is often precariously maintained. My gratitude to the people, places, and things that gave me solace and escape: Johnny Cash, System of a Down, Disturbed, Metallica, Citizen Cope....

Oprah's Book Club: Iraq Style

Page 34

One night, as I read Thomas Friedman's From Beirut to Jerusalem, I overheard what I considered a pretty frightening, though not at all surprising, conversation on the other side of the tent. It began with a Sergeant passionately arguing that the U.S. forces should not stop with the invasion of Iraq.

Page 37–38

I read a number of books in Kuwait. Before I left, my good friend Peter gave me Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. Peter was a fierce world traveler, a fellow journey spirit who had almost died of malaria in Myanmar, and told me it was the book that most changed his life. It's the story of a young man's search for meaning and peace--painfully ironic given my current fate. I tore through it in three hours. In an attempt at balance, I also read Bill O'Reilly's The O'Reilly Factor. I had just finished Michael Moore's book Stupid White Men, and figured O'Reilly's would be a good counterweight. An easy read, O'Reilly impressed me with his working-class success story--and his arrogance. I was surprised to learn that he had left television to earn a master's degree from Harvard's John F. Kennedy School of Government. He pulled a quote from President Harry Truman that seemed fitting in a time of war: "Men often mistake notoriety for fame, and would rather be remembered for their vices and follies than not to be noticed at all." I wondered if that quote would one day apply to our president's bold choice to invade Iraq....

Despite popular opinion, soldiers can read. Some read nonstop. John Grisham and Tom Clancy books were passed around the Platoon like viruses. I had a few books stuffed deep in the bottom of my A-bag below my extra boots. As soon as I finished one, I passed it off to the rest of the Platoon, starting with Rydberg. That way the two of us had something to discuss on late nights spent guarding a radio or waiting for a commo check. It was like a two-man Oprah's Book Club. I often tried to introduce the Platoon to something other than Maxim. I passed them authors like Gore Vidal, Joseph Conrad, John Fowles, and Thomas Friedman. Rydberg like Lullaby, the latest by Chuck Palahniuk, one of my favorite authors. It quickly became the Bravo Company book club book of choice, even surpassing Harry Potter.