Their War

Less than half the civilian population believes military leaders can be relied on to respect civilian control of the military, according to surveys by the Triangle Institute for Security Studies, an academic think tank in North Carolina. Never mind that 92 percent of military leaders still insist their civilian masters should have the final say on whether to use military force. And while nearly two-thirds of military leaders believe they share the same values as the American people, only about one-third of their civilian counter-parts agree. The vast majority of civilians believe service members are intolerant, stingy, rigid and lacking in creativity. More than 20 percent report they'd be disappointed if their children joined the military. Before the invasion of Iraq, the editorial boards of major newspapers endorsed the use of force, yet a search turned up no calls for Americans to join up to support the effort. President Bush urged civilians to go shopping.

"The military is at war, but the country is not," warns University of Maryland sociologist David Segal. "And the military resents that."

BEFORE REPORTING TO THE SCHOOL OF INFANTRY ON CAMP GEIGER, Pfc. Tuyishimire went home for a visit. He'd been away for only 13 weeks, had just completed basic training, but already a visit to his family's Dayton, Ohio, suburb of one-story brick homes seemed like a trip to another planet.

His old friends took one look at him and exclaimed: "Whoa! What the heck happened to you?" The Tuyishimire they knew had been 40 pounds heavier, less focused, the hyperkinetic class jokester. He tried to tell them about his new life in the Marines. All he got were blank faces.

"I had changed," he says, "but everyone else hadn't. I felt like I should be back with my boot camp buddies. We went through a lot together, and here I am sitting with these people who don't understand. The things they were into -- watching movies, going bowling -- it was fun for 10 minutes, but then I had to wait two hours till I could leave. It seemed like a waste of time."

He's saying this as he sits near the firing range, and his fellow Marines are nodding. They're all about his age; they all had that feeling of moving in separate orbits. "A few asked me about basic," says Pfc. Christopher Hendricks. "I said, It's just something you've got to experience yourself."

"During leave, I'd get lonely at night," Pvt. Jimmy Potts muses out loud. "My family thought I was depressed, but I was just used to being around a bunch of guys all the time. I kept calling the squad bay 'home.'"

Pfc. Richard Berthelot says, "It was irritating to see people leaning on a bulkhead chewing gum," using the Marine and Navy word for wall. In basic, both wall-leaning and gum-chewing are strictly verboten. He says, "People are getting lazier and lazier."

"Shocked" is how Tuyishimire describes his reaction to the provocative and unkempt way "people out in the world are dressing."

This, after only 13 weeks on the other side of the fence.

Three-hundred-fifty miles and a world away from Camp Geiger, in a comfortable Washington suburb, Matt Suls and Scott Lutsky are killing time at Westfield Montgomery mall. It's Memorial Day weekend, and they're munching a sub and a burger at the back of the mall's crowded, sky-lighted food court. Suls and Lutsky grew up around here in upper middle-class families, graduated from Walter Johnson High School together, went on to the University of Maryland and Montgomery College, respectively. They're about the same age as Theo Tuyishimire. None of their friends has joined the military.

On 9/11 they were high school freshmen. They watched over and over again as the planes exploded into the twin towers on their classroom TV. Joining the military didn't occur to them.