| Page 2 of 5 < > |
11 Days Till Baghdad
Soldiers of the 2-16 -- the 2nd Battalion, 16th Infantry Regiment of the 4th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division -- lined up for processing at Fort Riley, Kan., before deploying earlier this month. For most of the troops, the year-long tour would be their first in Iraq.
(Photos By Linda Davidson -- The Washington Post)
Discussion Policy
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
|
"What we're about to do is going to change every one of our lives," Kauzlarich told his command staff at a meeting the day after the ceremony, which had concluded with handshakes from people who would grab onto him and lock onto his eyes, as if they were already trying to remember the last time they saw Ralph Kauzlarich. "And it'll all be okay," he continued, "as long as we win."
So fiercely does Kauzlarich believe this -- that the war can be won and that it will be won -- it can seem as if he is the one grabbing onto something, in this case the idea that victory is a matter not only of strategy and tactics, but of sheer willpower as well. A true believer's certainty: This is Kauzlarich's, who at 8 years old announced to his family that when he grew up he wanted to be "a leader of men," became the youngest Eagle Scout ever in his home state of Montana, attended West Point, became an Army Ranger, served in Desert Storm, served in Afghanistan, played a controversial role in the Army review of the friendly-fire death of Cpl. Pat Tillman, served a special-operations tour in Iraq, has climbed steadily through the officer ranks, and has yet to experience military failure.
As one of his soldiers said: "He's the kind of guy you follow to hell and back. He's that kind of leader."
He has never lost a soldier under his command. "No, I have not had to contend with that yet," he said. He has never had a soldier of his even get hurt, has never loaded a wounded soldier of his onto a stretcher, or treated a bleeding soldier of his on a battlefield, or notified a family that their beloved child, or husband, or father, had died. "I've talked to families that have lost sons in combat," he said, but those conversations were well after the fact and didn't involve soldiers who were directly his.
That, he imagines, will change. "Statistically, there's probably a pretty good chance I'm going to lose men," he said, and like so many things that would happen in the 11 days between the deployment ceremony on Jan. 25 and his actual departure on Feb. 5, the statement seemed both factual and heartbreaking. Ironies and bittersweet juxtapositions are inescapable in wartime, and these days weren't any exception.
One day came news that two soldiers and 250 insurgents had died during all-day gun battles that were unusually fierce, even by the standards of Iraq; that was the day Kauzlarich, his wife and three children all put on matching outfits of blue jeans and white shirts and went to Sears for a family portrait.
Another day: "I looked at Ralph's body armor today, and picked it up, and felt it," Kauzlarich's father -- who had flown in with his wife to say goodbye, and had gone to his son's office, and had hoisted the armor, and had heard medics boast that they could get a wounded soldier to a hospital from anywhere in Baghdad in 15 minutes max, and had been spared the detail that snipers had begun aiming at soldiers' thighs in order to pierce the femoral artery -- said at dinner. There was ham. There were twice-baked potatoes. There was a Betty Crocker cookbook open on the counter. There was an apple crisp in the oven.
Earlier, out of his son's earshot, the father, whose name is also Ralph Kauzlarich, said: "I have feelings. I have fears. I know he could get injured. I know he could not get back. But I know what he feels, too. He believes this."
His eyes had gotten a little wet as he said this, but now, eyes back to dry, merely nodding, he ate ham and potatoes and listened as his son described the first time he had come under fire in Desert Storm, how he had thought he might die, how he hadn't.
"Okay, there's a reason I'm here," Kauzlarich said he decided that day, as his parents listened, and his wife, Stephanie, went to get the apple crisp out of the oven, and his 7-year-old daughter, Allie, climbed onto his lap for a hug, and his son Jacob, who was born just after Sept. 11, 2001, slid laughing across the floor on his belly. "I wasn't afraid of anything from that point on."
Later:
"That's all you want to be buried with?" Stephanie asked.




