Deep Blade Archive
Cutting through the machinations and effects of the U.S. empire
Celebration darkened by war’s memories
Soldiers hesitate to tell of horrors amidst victorious homecoming
by Tom Weber and Steve Kloehn
Talk of pride and victory in war flowed easily as the bands played and the flags waved on Friday, but the tales of horror unfolded more slowly for soldiers returning from the Persian Gulf. In their desert camouflage, the troops looked pleasantly bewildered by the hundreds of strangers who had come to Bangor International Airport to welcome them home. The soldiers happily signed autographs, talked into microphones, squinted at TV lights, and filled pages in reporters’ notebooks.
Ron Nagel of Colorado, a 24-year-old corporal with the Army’s 52nd Engineers, stood apart from the festivities for a moment and quietly sipped the first non-Saudi Pepsi he had drunk in five months. He held a flag in one hand while another poked out from the breast pocket of his shirt.
“It’s hard to describe the things we saw in Iraq,” Nagel said, shaking his head as he recalled the battles fought in Basra. “It’s bad enough to see someone dead for the first time, or someone blown into a hundred pieces all over the place. “But the worst part was driving down the roads in Iraq and seeing people with arms or legs missing. They fell down in the road so they wouldn’t be shot, and they begged for our help, and all we could do was drive by and do nothing. We had a job to do, but I still had to ask the Lord for forgiveness.”
The nightmares have yet to begin for Nagel, who plans to “get life started again” soon with his wife in Widefield, Colorado. But his daydreams are filled with the gruesome pictures he expects to carry in his head for a long time.
“It’s real hard to go by a truck somewhere and see a guy sitting in there with no head, or two guys in the back who are burned black because they couldn’t get out in time.” he said. “Even when we were well inside Saudi, where I knew we were safe, I couldn’t         pass a car without thinking I’d see a dead body inside.”
As Nagel spoke, 13-year-old Shawn Lyon of Dexter walked over to ask for his autograph. After signing the sheet, Nagel reached into his pocket and handed the boy a Saudi riyal — a paper note worth about 33 cents. “What do you want my autograph for?” Nagel said. “I’m getting everybody’s,” Lyon said. “You’re heroes.”
When the boy had left, however, Nagel admitted that he didn’t feel much like a hero. “The only heroes in this war were the people who died over there,” he said. “Everybody         sees those John Wayne movies, and that’s their picture of a hero. I wasn’t doing any John Wayne stuff over there. I was doing a job and I’m glad I’m back.”
Sgt. 1st Class Russ Wilhite of the First Infantry Division also was thinking of the desert — not a barren desert but a desert full of beleaguered Iraqis, burnt-out equipment and corpses. “There were a lot of corpses,” Wilhite said. “You didn’t know it until you had to move a vehicle out of the way. You would start pushing a tank off the road and a corpse would fall out.” The Army’s push to Kuwait City was littered with the bodies of people who had died during coalition aerial and artillery attacks, and crowded with those who had survived. Wilhite encountered Iraqis popping up out of holes and trenches, even out of 55-gallon drums with eyeslits cut in the side — one-man forts that         the soldiers used during the day.
For the most part, the Iraqis were out of food. Some had a little rice, some had baby food. A few officers kept goats in their foxholes. One young Iraqi told an American interpreter that he had been stopped for speeding, and inducted into the Iraqi Army as punishment. They gave him a gun and sent him to the front.
The Iraqis were desperate to surrender. They kissed the food the allies gave them. “I felt bad at first about the Iraqi prisoners, until we hit Kuwait City. Then I realized the infant formula they were eating was infant formula they had taken away from Kuwaiti babies,” Wilhite said. “Then you’re not so anxious to give those guys your food.”
During his eight days in Basra, however, Nagel said he never once considered the Iraqis his enemy. “The only enemy I had over there was Saddam,” he said. “The Republican Guard deserved the incredible force we hit them with. Man, it was a slaughter. But I’m not so sure about the regular Iraqi army. Some of them didn’t even have weapons.”
Nagel didn’t share those thoughts with the young girl who asked him a few questions for a high school report. “So what did you do when you were over there?” the girl asked. “Sweat,” Nagel said. “And what was the best part of being involved with the war?” she asked. “Coming home,” was all he said.
Coming home — the band, the children and adults shaking his hand and patting his back — did little to dim Wilhite’s memories of the carnage. “We were going to Kuwait City and you could smell the bodies. The rain was bloating them up, so they rotted even faster,” Wilhite said. “I remember a flatbed trailer full of body bags. They were putting them in mass graves. They had to. They had to do something, because they were getting ripe fast.”
Beverly Wolf Tremble of Portland came up to Bangor with her husband and 5-day-old son, Matthew, just to welcome the troops home. She introduced herself and asked Wilhite to pose for a picture with Matthew. Wilhite gently took the infant, who was dressed in a tiny camouflage sweat suit, and cradled him in the palm of his hand. Wilhite smiled at Matthew, who slept soundly through it all, his pink scalp resting on the heavy calluses at the heel of the soldier’s hand.
“This is good,” Wilhite said, rocking the baby long after the pictures had been taken. “I can handle a load like this.”

From The Bangor Daily News
Saturday-Sunday March 9-10, 1991