Why Won't We Let Them Fill the Ranks?

But Jonathan doesn't feel foreign. He feels American.

He is one of an estimated 750,000 undocumented youths of military age living in the United States, a small portion of the estimated 12 million illegal immigrants who are at the heart of the contentious debate in Congress on immigration reform. The proposed legislation includes provisions of the Dream Act, a bill knocking around the Hill since 2001 that would create a path to a green card and citizenship for any undocumented youths who were brought to the United States before they were 16, have lived here for five years and either attend college or serve honorably in the military for at least two years. The bill would allow youths without proper documentation to circumvent current military regulations that open doors only to those with green cards.

By law, these undocumented boys are already required to register for the Selective Service, ostensibly to be called upon to fight for the United States in a time of war. And since last year, Congress has given military officials the ability to recruit anyone -- anyone-- deemed "vital to the national interest," though the military has not given its recruiters the same green light. Even David S. Chu, the Pentagon's undersecretary for personnel and readiness, has expressed support for the controversial idea of recruiting illegal immigrants into the armed forces. "Many of these young people may wish to join the military, and have the attributes needed -- education, aptitude, fitness and moral qualifications," he told a Senate panel last year.

So why not recruit Jonathan?

Pragmatists like O'Hanlon aren't against the idea. They just worry that it won't go anywhere because conservatives bent on deporting illegal immigrants would be offended by the idea of rewarding someone they consider a breaker of the nation's laws with the right to wear the nation's uniform. But given the state of emergency in the military, the threat of failing in Iraq and of returning to the days of the "broken Army" of the 1970s, even the right isn't holding fast.

"I'm happy to have the military work that out however they want to," said Mark Krikorian of the Center for Immigration Studies, which advocates immigration restrictions. "My concern is when people see service in the military and immigration as having some kind of synergy, as though we can offer citizenship as a way to fill out our recruiting quota."

But in reality, that synergy has always been there.

Immigrants, both legal and illegal, have served in the U.S. military since the American Revolution. During the Civil War, Irish immigrants fresh off the boat with no papers were sent to fight on the front lines in the Union army along with Germans, Scandinavians, Swedes and others, making up about 20 percent of the force. My own Irish ancestors signed up within weeks of arrival in the 1870s and were shipped out West to fight the Indian Wars.

Today, about 40,000 immigrants serve in the U.S. military. Most, as required by military regulations, are legal permanent residents, so-called green-card soldiers.

An unknown number of undocumented immigrants, "no card" soldiers, have managed to slip under the radar as well. Now, a new wartime provision enables these immigrant troops, whom the military presumes to be legal, to apply for U.S. citizenship from the first day of service. Since Sept. 11, 2001, 26,000 green-card soldiers have become naturalized -- more than 70 of them posthumously. One of those posthumous citizenships was granted to Lance Cpl. Jose Antonio Gutierrez, the second U.S. service member killed in the Iraq war, who had received his green card by lying about his age.

"When they declared war on Iraq, everybody in our center let out a cheer because so many people thought that meant they could legalize their status," says Kim Propeack, an immigration advocate with Casa de Maryland, which helps legal and illegal immigrants find jobs and housing. People have become legal through military service in times of war for years, she said. And the military option is one that many like Jonathan desperately want.

Sebastian, 21, graduated from high school in Prince George's County in 2005. He arrived in 1999, in search of a job to help his family back in Mexico. But high school changed everything, he said. He discovered that in the United States, one can have a future. He had a series of online conversations with military recruiters. But he cut the contacts short when he became afraid that they'd find out about his status and report him. "I've been here almost eight years. I feel like I belong to this country," he said. "People like me, we want to serve the country. We love this country. We don't have papers. We can't afford to go to college. The military is the perfect option for us." Instead, he works at a seafood carry-out.

Jonathan graduated from T.C. Williams last week. His friends are getting ready to join the military or pack up and go to college in the fall. He's working at a retail store and wondering if his parents' sacrifices were for nothing. Sitting at Dunkin' Donuts drinking lemonade, he said the Marines keep phoning. But, he shrugged, he knows better than to answer their call.

schulteb@washpost.com

Brigid Schulte is a staff writer for The Washington Post's Metro section.