Back on September 5, Afghanistan
Back on September 5, Afghanistan President Hamid Karzai survived an attempt on his life, largely because three members of the US Special Forces assigned to his security detail killed all three of the would-be assassins. That was the same day that a car bomb exploded in Kabul, killing six and wounding dozens.
I mention this now because of a photograph I saw on the cover of one of the New York dailies. It depicted one of the soldiers who had taken out the assassins, apparently discussing the incident with other members of his team. Around his head, he wore a traditional Afghan headdress, somewhat like a turban but loosely wrapped, so that tousled hair poked out its top. Usually, we see our soldiers clean-cut and smooth-faced, but this soldier, in keeping with the customs of his hosts, was sporting a thick beard. Not Mullah-thick, mind you, but getting there. He was shirtless, his broad chest crossed by the strap that held a lethal-looking, snub-nosed machine gun close to his hip. A smooth, fat egg of a grenade was tucked casually into his waistband, hanging by its spoon, next to a .45 snug in its compact leather holster.
And he was big: the arm that lightly gripped the machine gun was a thick hamsteak, and his shoulders were equally thick and broad, tapering down to a fit waist. At the time the photograph was taken, he had just recently put down one or more armed men intent on killing the President in his charge. But here he was, relaxed, one foot up on the low bumper of a military vehicle, one hand gripping his gun, the other gesturing in conversation. Beneath the thickening beard I could see clear eyes and a small, slightly upturned nose that seemed out of place, given his heavy armament and his foreign surroundings. Altogether, he looked competent, dangerous and--by virtue of his clear pale skin and his rusty-brown hair and beard--undeniably American.
Over the next few days, I came to wish that I had followed my impulse and bought that newspaper, so that I could show this soldier to you instead of describing him. Because, seeing him, I became filled with an inspired confidence. My conviction that Bin Laden had been grievously, stupidly mistaken about our troops' capabilities and their resolve grew to become completely unshakeable. I realized that my tax dollars had helped to train this man. My country had provided abundant, nourishing food for him while he grew up, so that now he was strong and fit, a force to be reckoned with. My culture had helped to raise him, to shape his talents, to provide him with the skills needed to defend the leader of a distant land. He is defending that leader solely because that man represents a glimmer of hope for freedom, representative democracy, and the reconstruction of a nation torn by 20 years of war and religious tyranny.
In short: he is the face of military spending. Not night vision goggles, or undetectable aircraft, or ambitious, pork-filled projects that the military neither wants nor needs. That young man is part of the true engine that powers the American military machine.
I'm glad he's fighting for us. I'm proud to be in a country that produces such people. I pray that he, and all the others like him, will return home safely.
