Refusing to commit war crimes – and testifying
Reviewed by Dee Knight
The Deserter’s Tale: The Story of an Ordinary Soldier
Who Walked Away from the War in Iraq, by Joshua Key
“TRAINED TO KILL – KILL WE WILL!” That’s what U.S. Army recruits must shout while marching to the mess hall for a meal. That’s all it took for Private Jeremy Hintzman to know he had to get out. He was the first U.S. war resister from the Iraq war to seek refugee status in Canada.
It took a little longer for Private Joshua Key, but he was not “gung ho.” If you fail to show sufficient enthusiasm, you’re “smoked.” “They made me do push-ups, duck walks, crawl around on my hands and knees, and stand at attention while every man in my platoon hollered that I was a ‘useless asshole’ and a ‘stupid shit’,” said Private Key in The Deserter’s Tale.
“One day, all 300 of us lined up on the bayonet range, each facing a life-size dummy that we were told to imagine was a Muslim man. As we stabbed the dummies with our bayonets, one of our commanders stood at a podium and shouted into the microphone: ‘Kill! Kill! Kill the sand n-----rs!’ We were made to shout out [the same thing]. While we shouted and stabbed, drill sergeants walked among us to make sure we were all shouting. It seemed the full effect of the lesson would be lost on us unless we shouted out the words of hate as we mutilated our enemies.”
That was basic training. Key remembers advanced training with the 43rd Combat Engineer Company. His “officers’ repeated warnings: ‘If you feel threatened, kill first and ask questions later.’ I had army chants buzzing through my head, like ‘Take a playground, Fill it full of kids. Drop on some napalm, And barbecue some ribs.’”
The real thing was yet to come. In Iraq, Key’s first duty assignment was to set off explosives to blast open doors of Iraqi people’s homes, join a six-person assault team storming in to terrorize everyone inside, and take prisoner any male over five feet tall. “We put our knees on their backs, pulled their hands behind them, and faster than you can bat an eye we zipcuffed them. Zipcuffs are plastic cuffs that lock on tight. They must have bit something fierce into those men’s skin… The Iraqi brothers were taken away to an American detention facility for interrogation… I never saw one of them return to the neighborhoods we patrolled regularly.”
Later Key had to pull guard duty in front of a hospital in Ramadi, for weeks on end. A little girl who lived near the hospital would run up to the fence he was guarding and “call out the only English words she knew: ‘Mister, food!’ ” Key said “she was about seven years old. She had dark eyes, shoulder-length brown hair, and – even for a young child – seemed impossibly skinny. She usually wore her school uniform – a white shirt with a blue skirt and a pair of sandals… She seemed fearless, full of energy, and not the least bit frightened by my M-249. She acted as if she didn’t even know that she lived in a war zone, and she ran to the fence the same way my own children might have approached a sand box, piping out, ‘Mister, food!’ ”
Key would tell the girl to go away, but when she insisted, he would give her his MRE rations (the nearly inedible “Meals Ready to Eat”). She would run away home. “Her visits were the best part of my days at the hospital, and she was the only person in Iraq… whose smile I enjoyed…. I wasn’t the only soldier in our squad who gave rations to the girl…”
Several weeks into his guard duty at the hospital in Ramadi, Key said “I was back at my post in front of the hospital. I saw the girl run out of her house, across the street, and toward the fence that stood between us. I reached for an MRE, looked up to see her about ten feet away, heard the sound of semiautomatic gunfire, and saw her head blow up like a mushroom…
“My own people were the only ones with guns in the area, and it was the sound of my own people’s guns that I had heard blazing before the little sister was stopped in her tracks. I saw her mother fly out the door and run across the street. She and someone else in the family bent over the body. I could feel them all staring at me, and I could say nothing to them and do nothing other than hang my head in shame while the family took the child away.”
“Her death haunts me to this day,” Key said. “I am trying to learn to live with it.”
The bulk of Private Key’s duty in Iraq was “busting into and ransacking homes… Before my time was up in Iraq, I took part in 200 raids… We never found weapons or indications of terrorism. I never found a thing that seemed to justify the terror we inflicted every time we blasted through the front door of a civilian home, broke everything in sight, punched and zipcuffed the men, and sent them away…”
American terrorists
“It struck me,” Key said, “that we, the American soldiers, were the terrorists. We were terrorizing Iraqis. Intimidating them. Beating them. Destroying their homes. Probably raping them. The ones we didn’t kill had all the reasons in the world to become terrorists themselves. Given what we were doing to them, who could blame them for wanting to kill us, and all Americans? A sick realization lodged like a cancer in my gut. It grew and festered, and troubled me more with every passing day. We, the Americans, had become the terrorists in Iraq.”
Joshua Key was a dirt-poor 19-year-old from Guthrie, Oklahoma, trying to put food on the table for his young wife, Brandi, and their two infant children by delivering pizza. He was lured in by an Army recruiter promising a decent wage, a stateside job, and money for training so he could realize his dream of becoming a welder.
His experiences in Iraq “got me thinking,” he said. “How would I react if foreigners invaded the United States and did just a tenth of the things that we had done to the Iraqi people? I would be right up there with the rebels and insurgents, using every bit of my cleverness to blow up the occupiers. I would dig a hole in my hometown in Oklahoma and rig mines in the trees and set them to blow up when the enemy passed below. I would lob all the mortars and rocket-propelled grenades I could buy. No doubt about it. If somebody blasted into my home and terrorized my family, I would become a force to be reckoned with…”