His Name Was William Palmer

His Name Was William Palmer...

His Name will remain William Palmer...

I will always remember his name...

After reading this, you will remember his name too...

That's me in the picture... a killer wearing a bowtie, way back in the day

When you remember the war, you should remember how it started; you should remember who was there when it started; you should know who sacrificed in the line of duty to their country. But most important of all, you should know William Palmer. You should have a name to place with what happened over in Iraq. Only a soldier who has served in the heat of battle can tell you what it means to be there. To me, I learned what it meant to serve when the first casualties came back with shot up armored vehicles.

When the 1st Cavalry Division started the ground war in 1991, we had several "Berm Buster" operations. The "Sand" countries in the area designate country boundaries with giant walls of sand. They are about 20 feet high and make good observation points. I served on a couple of Berm Buster operations, and in each one, we lost good men. We had some injured when our engineers blew gigantic holes in the sand wall. That was our first taste of battle. I watched from a front row seat in my HMMWV (Humvee) with my team. We listened to the radio as the engineers did their work, the field artillery took out some targets of opportunity, and the Bradleys, field artillery and Tanks made their moves into the kill zone. I watched through binoculars as it all happened. We waited for orders. Each vehicle in my MP platoon was at least 200 yards apart from each other. We were tasked with guarding the AXP (Ambulance Exchange Point). We watched as the armored ambulances brought back dead and injured back to our point where humvee ambulances would transport them or helicopters would evacuate them to the rear. We listened in as the casualties were reported on the radio. In the heat of battle, we glared at the captured Iraqi soldiers who were also brought back to our point and given to us to guard.

In the months preceding the battle, it was a constant struggle to gain maps, GPS systems and general information about even where we were at in relation to everybody else in the numerous Nations' Divisions of Armies. I never did get to replace my LORANS unit with a GPS system. We bartered smuggled alcohol for badly needed maps.

We cruised different Division's Areas to gather any information. We scrounged for everything including a radio. Then we scrounged for a coding device for our radios. We stole toilet seats from the 82nd Airborne Divison's Privies so we had something to put on top of our five gallon buckets that became our portable toilets.

Nothing came easy. We were sent on missions with less than perfect instructions. I almost shot a Saudi Colonel because of a mix up with a traffic control point on Tapline Road. We didn't have complete comfort what the amount of information that was given to us, we trusted our Lieutenant and platoon sergeant because we had to.

With all the things that got mixed up, it seems strange then that one piece of information would make its way completely across the battlefield with such clarity and speed. It was during the 100 hour "official" ground war that we were way out in the middle of Iraq swinging out to the far west on the infamous "Hail Mary" that one of our buddies was all the way across the battlefield, near the coast in the 2nd Armored Division's Tiger Brigade (Army) supporting the Marines. The 502nd Military Police Platoon was a subordinate unit of the 2nd Armored Division. We were all from Fort Hood, Texas and the 2nd Armored Division was attached to the 1st Cavalry Division until they broke off to support the Marines. Until they did, they camped with the 545th MP company, the 1st Cavalry Division's MP company. I was brand new to the 545th when the war started, so I was still getting to know people in each MP unit.

There was one guy in particular who was super quiet. His name was William Palmer. He didn't really play volleyball, he just watched. Some people said he was just really homesick. He was young, and married...and like us, would soon be in battle. I didn't know him very well. He was in a different platoon. I did sit next to him quite a few times in the Mess Tent because, like me, he was often writing letters. Before the berm buster operations or any big moves, I always made sure my team called home. I often wondered if I was telling them to call home just because I didn't know if we'd all make it back alive to a phone.

Some of us didn't. It was during this hectic 100 hour period that we heard, probably within hours, that someone way over on the coast had become a casualty. You know we couldn't get information about anything, but for some reason, we got word of this casualty from the other side of the country so soon. He died. His parents would never get the phone call from him that he was coming home. His name was William Palmer. His wife would never hold him again. His child would never know him. I didn' t know him very well, but I remember his face. I remember how quiet he was. I remember the shock I felt from knowing that someone so quiet, so genuinely gentle and friendly, had just been killed in war.

You should be shocked too. You should know that war is ugly. It kills people at random. Small mistakes, in war, are not small. War killed William Palmer. I'm pretty positive that of all the MPs over there, William Palmer probably had the strongest urge to go home. He had plenty of reasons to want to go home. He had a wife, kid on the way, loving parents.

There are people who genuinely thrive on the adventure associated with combat operations. Then there are those who serve, but with a greater perception of humility. I know only one of the people who were killed during Operation Desert Shield. I knew him only vaguely. But he made an impact on me. It was then and there, that I came to my foolish idea that War ought to be the absolute last option. I hoped that after this, I would never see any more of my friends serve and make the ultimate sacrifice. I hoped that if they did have to serve the cause would be just. I hoped that we would never dishonor the dead, their families, and those who still serve by sending them off to war without legitimate, honest attempts to avoid war first.

It's foolish to think that administrations with such a lack of moral and ethical character are holding up their end of the deal. In light of the most recent news stories about Judith Miller, one has to question whether we've all been duped. You see, it's easy to go along with the orders when you serve, because it's more about taking care of the guys next to you. It's less about questioning the "Why" of war. Now that I'm out of the Army, I do question why. I question why because men like William Palmer will never have that opportunity. Men and women today serve with distinction. It is part of the bargain that sometimes you have to do the unpleasant things. Sometimes you have to put it all on the line. But it should NEVER be for frivolous reasons.

A man's life, a woman's life is worth more than all the politics in the world. If we have to pay even fifty cent's more per gallon fine...so be it. The economy will adjust. Or we will. It's a hard road to change. It's an easy road to ignore the fact that frivolous war acts between nations include people that you and I know. Operation Desert Storm was touted as worthy and the right thing to do. You know what? I'm not so sure it ever was.

I question whether the billions we have spent on the War could have been better spent on research.

You know what? It might not have made a difference for a while. It might have taken several years to perfect newer engines, newer fuels, newer commuting laws. So what... It might have taken years--years that over two thousand dead women and men soldiers would have spent with their families. It might not have been the answer: spending money on new fuel technologies, but until we've tried, we shouldn't be sending more and more people that you know off to die. Lori Piestewa, Darren Cunningham, Sheldon Black Hawk, Jill, Uncle Joe, your cousin Andrew, the guy who lives down the street from you, they deserve every effort we have to avoid war. We haven't taken every last effort to solve this fuel "crisis" problem. Only after we find out that we don't have any other options left, is when I believe that we should be there risking, not our lives, but lives of soldiers.

Driving a fuel inefficient S.U.V.?

Using way too much fuel than is really necessary?

Not supporting newer renewable fuel resources?

If you are then you are making certain Administration Oil Tycoons and Defense Contractors rich, and adding weight to a false idea that the Iraq part of our war is absolutely necessary. This Veteran's Day I will not dishonor the memory of William Palmer with support for a war, when we REALLY HAVEN'T TAKEN EVERY LAST STEP TO AVOID IT. We just make excuses that we need to do it NOW. Well as I recall, we started Operation Desert Shield wayyyy back in August 1990. Fifteen years later, billions of dollars later, with over two thousand souls lost across the sand, and we still don't have an end in sight. What could the billions of dollars and 15 years we spent on the war have done in the way of research and development? As long as oil tycoons are in office, we'll never know.

You won't know William Palmer from reading this. But you will know that name from this day forward. You will know the name of one person who died fighting this war. You will know that he would have made a great father. He was somebody's son. He was a friend to those around him. You will know that I have tears for such a gentle soul, killed in a random an ugly act we call war.

If you've read this far, then you have a responsibility, not to believe me, but to search your soul, and ask: if we all just contributed a little, if we all just changed our habits a little, if we all sacrificed a little, would the people you know, just like William Palmer in Operation Desert Storm in 1991, really have to sacrifice their lives? Send your relatives off to war, send the people you know, and the people you don't know. But I challenge you to send them off with a hug and wonder if they'll come back; wonder if we're all doing as much as we can to avoid the Iraq war; wonder if you'll ever see them again; wonder if there's another fifteen years we're going to waste, another two thousand soldiers' lives we'll ALL sacrifice. How many more soldier's lives, on EACH side will we sacrifice before it equals 15 years of research and peace?

Have a Happy Veteran's Day. Somebody should be enjoying their "day off from work," their "three day weekend," because there are over two thousand families that will not celebrate it. Instead they'll be visiting graves of children. The graves of father's they will never get to know; the graves of their sisters. Somebody will visit William Palmer's grave.

Before you offer full support, before you say we have done every last thing to avoid the Iraq part of the war, you need to ask if you could send your loved one off to war. You need to ask yourself, if your country could invent new fuel resources and that would save your loved one's from making life sacrifices, why aren't you supporting that idea? Why aren't you supporting the idea that we could be spending just money on the problem, instead of money and lives like William Palmer's?

On this Veterans Day you will remember his name was William Palmer. What's the name of the person you know over there? What's the name of the person who has someone over there? What's the number names on memorials you would support before supporting research?