Is it possible to bomb ISIS into submission?

There was a time in my life when I believed that the best way to solve a conflict was to “put warheads on foreheads.”

I had to drop that mentality when I came to college, and to say that I’m “well-adjusted” is misleading; I am just better at hiding it than I used to be. I haven’t embraced the touchy-feely culture of “let’s all be friends,” because I know it’s unrealistic; there are some people in this world that you will never be able to sit down and have a reasonable conversation with.

In February 2010, I was sitting in the forward control center on a tiny patrol base outside of the city of Marjah, Helmand province, Afghanistan.  We were about to kick-off a major operation; all we were waiting for was an order from Gen. Stanley McChrystal, then commander of the International Security Assistance Force.

While we were waiting, we received an intelligence report that an insurgent was planting roadside bombs in our area, so we decided to call in a drone to do surveillance on the road nearby. I know this terminology is probably familiar to anyone who has played the games in the Call of Duty franchise, but I lived it firsthand for a year.

We had a makeshift operations cell set up inside a tent on the patrol base with an LCD projector similar to the ones in CSC classrooms. We used it to project maps and reports on the wall, but we pulled down that information while our air officer, Capt. Jordan (no relation), patched in the feed from the drone camera.

About 10 of us were huddled in the tent watching the blurry black and white video, and we finally saw the thermal outline of a man hunkered down in the ditch. He was digging with a shovel and reached around to pull out what was clearly an improvised explosive device. Capt. Jordan radioed up for authorization, and moments later, he gave us a countdown.

“3… 2… 1… SHOT!” he said.  The screen flickered momentarily as the rocket flew. The camera re-adjusted as a cloud of flames and dust rose from where the man had been crouched. I could go into more gruesome detail, but I will respect those with weak stomachs.

Do you know what happened after that smoke settled? We all began laughing and cheering; to us it was one of the highlights of our week. A few days earlier a Marine convoy on that road had been hit by an IED, killing three and injuring several others.  But with one hellfire missile, we made sure that the bombs would stop for a while.  We had reason to be cheering; we had killed the enemy and potentially saved Marines’ lives.

Whenever you get into a situation like that, what pencil-necked ethicists would call a “moral grey area;” you need someone to center you, to sober you up and bring you back to reality.  In our case it was Gunnery Sergeant Corey Taylor, who had a previous tour in Afghanistan and a separate tour in Iraq. He quieted us down and barked at us; we stopped laughing right away.

“You all are disgusting.  That was a human being that we just blew apart.  You have to remember that,” he said in a gravelly voice, “This isn’t just a video game, kiddos. That was a living, breathing person that is no longer living. That could have easily been you if our roles were reversed.”

At the time he seemed like a real killjoy. “Just let us be happy that we killed the asshole,” I thought. But I’ve had four years and a lot of time to think about that day and what he really meant; I’m certain that he was correct. Marines are professionals whose mission is to kill the enemy, but our Gunny was certainly not going to take any pleasure from doing it. I suppose that’s a heartwarming thought for people who think that we’re all bloodthirsty savages.

However, I think that Taylor’s attitude toward our enemy was what allowed him to command the best from of us. He had respect for anyone willing to fight, and that’s something I think is terribly lacking in the rhetoric I see many of my ex- and current military friends posting on Facebook.

I see memes and narrow-minded flat comments; “Just kill ‘em all,” as if cutting legs from a starfish kills the whole creature (spoiler: it doesn’t, they just grow back into more starfish). I used to believe that “kill everyone” junk before I deployed, but now I know better. You can kill an ass-load of people, but you will never kill the ideology behind them; if that were the case, our liberties and Democracy would have crumbled on 9/11.

Now the news is saying we have a coalition; mostly Iraq and Syria’s neighbors, countries who seem more interested in lustfully eying the oil fields than being spurned into action by the Islamic State’s disgusting human rights abuses.

France began their air war in Iraq this week, and the U.S. finally green-lit strikes in Syria on a separate Al-Qaeda affiliate, the Khorasan Group.  The prior is France’s business, but the second was made possible using over decade-old congressional authorization that was, ironically, intended to justify strikes on Syria’s neighbor, Iraq, prior to the U.S. invasion in 2003.

This column is more than an anecdote and analysis. We shouldn’t be lulled into thinking that because ground troops aren’t involved that we aren’t at war.  The direction this conflict is taking doesn’t sit right with a crusty Vet like me. Don’t read this wrong, I’m not a pacifist; I believe that violence is justified in situations that threaten our citizens directly, but I question what a bunch of pilots know about combatting terrorists.

I wonder how many security patrols they’ve gone on; I wonder how many schools they’ve built and how many shuras they’ve attended. I wonder if they are aware of what the concerns and conditions are for the people in their cross hairs. I’d wager there’s way more to this conflict than can be neatly packaged into a 20 second CNN sound bite.

I have to concede to the hippies and liberals concerning one philosophical axiom: Bombing for peace is like screwing for virginity.