Disillusion and Hope

MOUNT ANGEL — As he drives the combine, cutting seed grass and kicking up dust on a hot afternoon, Joe Morris finds himself seeing, smelling and hearing Iraq.

Morris, a 22-year-old former Marine intelligence aide, did not hit heavy combat, though his base in the once-contested town of Fallujah did get shelled regularly. But it’s not the memory of whistling bombs that bothers him now, seven months after his return. It’s how the political realities of war muddied his idealism.

In early 2006, when he was about to head to Iraq, Morris was gung-ho, but not for wreaking havoc on the enemy. A thinking man and a spiritual man, he believed he could be part of bringing peace and democracy to a troubled land.

“I was motivated and wanted to make a difference in Iraq,” he says, relaxing after a long day’s work in the fields, helping a friend of his family. “But now, afterwards, it seems that even the people there weren’t willing to do it themselves. It kills your motivation. If some of them put half as much effort into rebuilding their country as they do in finding new ways to make IEDs, they’d have a great country.”

This weekend, Morris will be part of a retreat for soldiers who have returned from war, be it last month or decades ago. The retreat, held for the first time last year at the Father Bernard Youth Center here, drew veterans from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, the Balkans and Iraq. Now, Morris will be taking part, trying to figure out from peers why it’s so hard to return to civilian life.

Last year, men told stories that had bothered them for a long time. One was tormented by being reprimanded for refusing to fire shots in the night at a Japanese soldier stealing food. Another pondered why he was unscathed when shrapnel killed the man right next to him. One officer who served in Iraq was haunted at the Army’s waste of rations and building materials when starving Iraqis were just outside the gates.

Center directors knew that these older veterans never had a chance to process their experiences and that some old soldiers still suffer for it.

Morris, in Fallujah for a year, did a lot of computer work, taking satellite images and making maps for commanders to use in guiding missions. He knew many Marines who were injured and heard of those who died.

The situation in Iraq seemed like chaos. No one was quite sure who the enemy was. Different groups of Iraqis jockeyed for political position, guessing who would eventually be in control and currying favor. Morris, while he liked many Iraqi soldiers and police he met, does not have great faith that they can sustain democratic reform. They seemed prone to work for whomever could pay the most. Screening for the Iraqi forces seemed lax.

“It wasn’t the Iraq I expected,” Morris says. “There is a lot of politics involved. . . . It’s very hard to trust anybody there.” He calls the situation “very complex.”

Despite the troubles, Morris contends that U.S. troops should not leave anytime soon. Other powerful nations nearby would likely launch an occupation, he says, adding that the U.S. “did not have a very good exit strategy.”

He hopes and prays the situation will stabilize.

Already prayerful, Morris prayed more in Iraq.

“I found myself having long conversations about Christ, about life in general and how privilged we are to live in America,” he says. “And all the people praying for me, all the mail I got from home...that really helped my morale.”

Morris, who relied on email to keep him motivated, cannot imagine what soldiers in early wars faced, waiting weeks and months for letters. The former Marine is moved by the welcome home he got from people in Mount Angel. After his first Mass back at St. Mary Church, a large contingent of parishioners stood to shake his hand and hug him. It was like a wedding receiving line. Even while in Iraq, he got steady and welcome support from family via post and email. Even people he did not know sent him notes of encouragement.

Morris has felt no hostility directed at him, even as the Iraq war and the Bush administration become unpopular. Aside from that, he hears that the wars in Vietnam and Iraq are similar for their complex and frustrating qualities.

“I’m curious how long it was before they felt adjusted,” Morris says. “I still don’t feel adjusted. I still feel like Iraq was just a bad dream.”

Morris knows it will be good to talk about the feelings that are persisting.

His father, Tony, directs the Father Bernard Youth Center and initiated the retreat while his son was overseas. The military, after seeing what happened after Vietnam, began tending to soldiers’ psyches after combat.

Auxiliary Bishop Joseph Estabrook of the Military Archdiocese says that soldiers in general feel anger, despair and general disappointment. Often, the feelings are directed at the military, the nation and inward.

“There is a lack of faith in humanity,” the bishop told the Sentinel last year. “You think, ‘Maybe we aren’t as good as I thought we were.’ You can sometimes be very hardened by this and even say, ‘Where is God?’ They are reacting normally to a very abnormal situation.”