Peace Out of War was written on the evening of March -19-2003.
This was the evening of the preemptive strikes on the City of Baghdad, Iraq.
My dinner sat in front of me untouched. I was in awe of what I was witnessing.
I have to admit, I wasn’t totally surprised as to what was going on. President Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair had begun a saber rattling campaign about regime change in Iraq a year earlier.
The first mantra was Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD). They claimed Saddam Hassein was harboring a stock pile of nuclear weapons but that theory was dismantled after the National Security Council (NSC) made two visits and dispelled those untruths. The NSC’s report took nine months before be coming public. That was enough time for capricious minded Americans to buy into the WMD propaganda. By now the momentum of regime change was moving so fast it rolled over anybody in its way, making them seem un-American if they opposed it. So, we all stood by (including myself) unwilling to question the powers that be and hopelessly watched an atrocity take place. Hundreds of B-52’s and F-16 fighter planes were unleashed that evening over Baghdad and I became literally sick to my stomach as I watched the onslaught.
At the time, I lived less than three miles from Dobbins Air Force Base in Smyrna, Ga. The third Saturday, every three or four months, the base would have flight training for its fighter pilots. I would usually make arrangements to leave the area when these trainings took place. The fury of these two particular planes in full throttle is extremely intimidating. As the pilots made their final turn, they would fly over my home before landing. The sound waves emitted from these jets would rattle my home so hard they’d shake pictures off my walls. And that’s why I became sick and couldn’t eat. Most Americans will never understand this level of fear and horror until they are awaked one night to such terror.
As I sat in front of my television watching hundreds of these planes drop thousands of bombs on Iraq with no good intention and no good reason. I couldn’t help but think “Karma’s a bitch. I hope there’s no truth in the saying, you reap what you sow”. And if there is, how would we feel if a B-52 with foreign symbols on its wings flew over our homes dropping bombs?”
The scene that constantly haunts me came over the news the following day. A grandmother was kneeling in a dirt street crying and cursing at God for allowing this to happen. It just so happens, one of our bombs slammed into her home and killed fourteen of her family members. She will never have Peace.
Peace Out of War, don’t think it’s been done before?