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Sitting quietly in the corner of a Little Hall classroom, Wes Smith is hunched over his desk, listening intently as his German 101 instructor uses a projector to teach a language lesson. While the majority of his classmates would rather be doing anything other than learning German pronouns at 10 a.m., Smith, perhaps more than anyone else, is able to appreciate fully the precious minutes spent within each classroom. Smith’s gratification stems from his remembrance of where he was one year ago, arguably the worst place in the world.
After a one-year deployment in Iraq and nearly three year’s service in the United States Army, Smith was glad to finally return to his hometown of Searsport last September and fulfill his goal of enrolling as an elementary education student.
But when looking at the 22-year-old Smith, his humble personality and striking affability barely fit the character mold of a hardened Iraq War veteran. Sporting a plain black sweatshirt and a modestly shaped crew cut, Smith never makes a point of standing out; even though he has experienced events that other UMaine students have only seen on the nightly news.
Serving in the U.S. Cavalry Scouts, a specialized Army division regarded as the “eyes and ears” of its commanders in the battlefield, Smith’s unit went “wherever the action was.” Traversing the darkest depths of Iraq’s Sunni Triangle, an area largely northwest of Baghdad and considered the epicenter of the insurgent stronghold; Smith’s unit was involved in some of the Iraq War’s bloodiest combat missions, including the battles of Samarra and Fallujah in late 2003.
“There’s no safe place in Iraq,” said Smith, shaking his head cynically. “Wherever we went, we were bombarded with artillery, rockets, mortars, you name it.”
During the daytime, the primary duty of Smith’s unit was to secure and clear dangerous roads for passing U.S. military convoys. Occasionally, his unit passed through small villages and handed out candy to Iraqi children, while being greeted by cooperative villagers praising “Saddam no good” and “Thank you America.” But when the sun went down, his unit’s responsibility was to hunt down insurgents believed to be setting off IEDs, or improvised-explosive devices.
Nervously rubbing his head, Smith recounted his first engagement in Iraq, and perhaps his first grim reminder of the cold realities of war. On that night, Smith and other members of his unit attempted to halt an oncoming vehicle before a security checkpoint. However, the vehicle did not slow down despite repeated warnings, forcing Smith’s unit to gun down the vehicle. It turned out that suicide bombers were not the ones barreling past these check points, but instead, a fleeing family of five, including: a mother, a father, an uncle, an 8-year-old boy, and his 6-year-old sister.
“I remember seeing the boy’s body,” said Smith with a grimace. “The mother was crying, and the father was off to the side smoking a cigarette, obviously in shock. It was bad.”
Strange to think, just two years prior to the attacks on Fallujah and Samarra, Smith was an innocent, honor-roll student playing baseball at Searsport High. He never once pondered joining the Army, until the events of Sept. 11.
“I wanted to go over in December 2001,” said Smith, clenching his fists. “I felt like I wasn’t doing anything by staying in Maine; and to be honest, I wanted to kick some ass.”
Smith’s call to duty would be delayed however, as his parents ardently refused to let him sign up until he turned 18. Despite his initial desire to fight exclusively in Afghanistan, Smith said the mood was somber as he and fellow soldiers sat in their barracks and mentally prepared before their deployment to Iraq, less than a year after an Army recruiter walked in his parent’s home and convinced them of the military’s benefits for their only son,
“A lot of us thought we were going to die,” said Smith. “We felt prepared to go into combat, but every night we’d get together, and we wondered whose rooms would be empty in a year.”
Smith claimed that his tenure in Iraq contained a number of “close calls.” He noted one instance in particular, when a rocket filled with shrapnel landed in his unit’s Forward Operating Base, a place that Smith said was “supposed to be safe.”
Smith’s near acceptance of death was not unusual. A recent military questionnaire found that more than half of all soldiers and Marines returning from Iraq reported that they had “felt in great danger of being killed” there. A recent study conducted by Army experts also found that more than one in three soldiers and Marines who have served in Iraq later sought help for mental health problems, and those returning from Iraq consistently reported more psychic distress than those returning from Afghanistan and other conflicts, as nearly twice as many Iraq veterans reported having a mental health problem.
But according to Smith, he has yet to experience the psychological hardships endured by fellow Iraq war veterans, believing that his willingness to discuss the war with friends and family has been helpful. During his deployment, Smith said that in order to suppress homesickness, he would often envision each Iraqi town or city as a different area in Maine.
“Pretending I was in Maine really helped me,” said Smith, smiling. “If not for that, Iraq would have been a whole lot more miserable.”
However, Smith admits that his time spent in a war zone produced a few unwanted side effects. Loud noises will occasionally bother him, especially whistling noises, which Smith says sound grossly familiar to rocket-propelled-grenade fire and “really freak him out.”
“Every time I drive down the road now, it’s a habit to check both sides for anything suspicious,” said Smith. “Whether it’s a burlap sack or a Styrofoam box, I may not say anything, but my heart races.”
Beginning his first semester last January, Smith has on a few occasions walked out of his Hancock Hall dorm and witnessed anti-war protests on campus. Although he is openly against the Iraq war, Smith says he “has a big problem” with protests involving the desecration of the American flag.
“Since I came back from Iraq, I’ve definitely become more patriotic,” said Smith, confidently. “But I’ve heard of protests on campus where students have stepped on the American flag. That’s something I’m not cool with.”
Smith believes anti-war sentiments should never be directed towards the brave men and women serving overseas.
“We should protest the war, but always support the people who are fighting in it,” said Smith.
Currently enjoying the college life, Smith will still remain actively involved in the military, as he plans to sign up for the Army reserve this summer. Although his sights are set on earning a master’s degree in elementary education and ultimately teaching fourth-or-fifth grade in the Waldo County area, Smith says he is prepared to make two or three more trips to Iraq.
“I would go back,” responds Smith without hesitation. “It’s better for someone like me to go, a single guy in his 20s, than a guy with a wife and kids; and I’d certainly rather have me going than my friends being there.”
Pausing slightly, Smith adds, “Volunteers like me stop drafts.”
On the second floor of Little Hall, students pack up their bags and embark upon the remainder of their Friday afternoons. Following each class, the students leave largely unaware of the American hero who sits quietly in the corner of the classroom. But that is the way Wes Smith prefers it.
Bangor Daily News