Lessons in trust from both sides

Soldier finds it difficult to forgive, trust deserter

Editor's note: Four years ago, U.S. forces invaded Iraq. Cathy Henderson of Naperville is sharing with Sun readers e-mails sent by her son, Jason, 23, a 2002 graduate of Naperville Central High School. In October, Jason - an Army private first class - began a year-long stint in Iraq. He is stationed in Ramadi, the capital of Anbar province, a town about 100 miles west of Baghdad.

Jason's letters offer a firsthand account of what conditions are like for troops in Iraq, and hopefully will give Sun readers a greater understanding of the situation facing American troops as well as Iraqis.

We continue with the first part of an e-mail Jason sent from Iraq to his mother in January.

From: hondo5321@aol.com

Sent: Friday, January 26, 2007

To: Henderson, Cathy

Howdy, I trust that all is well back in the US of A. Life continues here as usual. We are in the midst of running a 5 day rotation. We spend 5 days at the "Hotel", "South House" and Corregidor. The other 2 positions are not bad. The "Hotel" has a minimal workout equipment, heat, and electricity. The biggest problem with it is that there are 6 people on guard at a time. If the powers that be are in a good mood, it can be dropped to 5 people, but you never know when to expect that. "South House" on the other hand has all the benefits of the "Hotel" and then some. The gym there is great, not to mention that the beds are almost as comfy as the ones back here. Even better is that we only run 2 people on guard at any time, so you get 12 hours or so off at a time in between 2 hour guard shifts. The only problem is that there is virtually no heat in our rooms. That gets a little miserable when you come off guard at 2 in the morning and have to wait a good 10 minutes after climbing into your sleeping bag before you can feel your toes again. All things considered though, I can't complain too much.

So, we got our first replacement the other day, if he can even be described as such. I say that not to be mean, but because he was a deserter. He went on a weekend pass 2 weeks before the deployment and didn't come back. That was over 3 months ago. Nobody knows for sure if he was returned by the police, or returned of his own freewill. It is an interesting situation. I know and understand the power of forgiveness and am all too happy to embrace the idea. The problem is that I find myself holding forgiveness back. It feels like the ultimate betrayal. A man who you are supposed to trust your life too just up and abandoned all of us. Now he returns months later and expects us to welcome him back. Can I really be expected to trust him completely? Can I expect myself to give that trust? So far the answer is no. I am aware what the good Christian answer is, but as they say, to forgive is divine. My answer so far is to give it time, but time is not always a luxury we have here. Even still, by giving it time, I am making a conscious decision to not trust him in the present. I have used trust and forgive interchangeably because in this instance I believe they are. In a situation such as this, forgiveness is necessary for trust, so withholding with one prevents the other from occurring. It is something that I can only hope will be revealed in time.

I learned a valuable lesson about suspicion the other day. A man was brought into South House for questioning. During the course of the night, I was tasked with guard duty for this individual. When I came in he was finishing up his dinner. The first thing I did was assess him as a threat. The man appeared to be in his 40's. He was short and had the soft, weak body of someone who has been sitting behind a desk for far, far too long. He appeared to be weak of mind as well. His eyes were cast downward most of the time, and his general posture didn't exactly suggest somebody who was an integral part of an insurgency. It rather suggested someone who was used to taking orders and living a generally passive life. I mean, the man was wearing a sweater vest, come on, can he possibly be a threat? Shortly after our arrival, in a rather meek voice, he inquired as to the time. My counterpart and I found this mildly entertaining, after all, where did this man think he was going. Eventually, the prisoner was loaded up into a waiting Humvee and driven away. It turns out that this dismal, downtrodden, even pathetic looking man was the primary financier for the biggest insurgent group in the region. He is responsible for the deaths of more Americans than I care to count. I don't know how much the interrogators knew about his position, but I suppose it doesn't matter. All I can say is that I took a new definition of suspicion away from the experience. Right or wrong, suspecting everyone is the order of the day over here.

Jason