Division Street

Stockholm Syndrome takes over

By DENNIS ANDERSON
Valley Press Editor

Hayes, of Los Osos, is the gold standard for newspaper writing coaches. He waded ashore on Okinawa and remembers the blood bath that signaled the end of World War II. As I was headed to Camp Roberts for the long wait to board a plane headed to Iraq with the National Guard, Hayes gave me the strip. I've carried it over my heart for months, through war and whatever.

The old jock "B.D." traded in football helmet for a Kevlar and he's driving a Humvee across the Iraqi desert with an officer chum. "So, I hear they got you working embedding detail, lieutenant." And B.D. replied, without irony, "War creates bonds with our media friends. Shouldn't be long before the Stockholm Syndrome kicks in."

In the next panel, Trudeau's nerdy war correspondent is pecking away at his laptop and asking the C.O., "Captain, would you describe our outfit as 'magnificent' or 'mythic.' "

The C.O. replies, "Report it as you see it, sir."

In Stockholm, the hostages formed emotional ties with barricaded bank robbers.

Since March 11, for weeks, and a whole lot of weekends, my Ahab quest has been to follow our local Guard unit to Iraq. Magnificent? Mythic? Those terms got applied by all other embedded, and supremely non-ironic reporters to 101st Airborne, 1st Marine Division, 3rd Infantry who beat Saddam's horde.

Meanwhile, Camp Roberts? Mythically ordinary and magnificently mundane.

The wonderful G.I. Joes and Janes of the 1498th Transport Co. trained, and sweated, worked and waited for their shot to help make a better new world.

These troops know their monster trucks wait for them to fulfill a mission on a dusty desert plateau in Kuwait.

They know they might like to go home, but they know they have to do the dirty job Uncle Sam requires of them.

Sgt. Dwain Brooks, an Airborne Ranger from Lancaster, knows his 5-year-old boy, Dwain Jr., looks at his picture at night and tells Mommy he misses Daddy. Good natured Don Zedicher of Rosamond would rather drive delivery trucks at home than trucks on the Main Supply Route to Bagdhad. But there's no turning back unless orders change.

Staff Sgt. Patrick Husband collects country songs about 9-11 and sings along with his personal CD player, like "Have you forgotten how it felt to see your nation under fire and your people blown away. Some say this country's just lookin' for a fight. After 9-11, I'd say that's right."

Sgt. Michael Dufresne teaches Medieval history to gifted students at Oliver Wendell Holmes Junior High. "I was teaching history of Islam to my seventh graders when 9-11 happened. I happen to still believe it's a peaceful religion, but even if you are peaceful and Islamic, people (in this country) will turn on you. I also believe Islam has been perverted by the terrorists."

Dufresne longs to see the mosques and minarets he has taught about, and to aid people of a country ravaged by war their wretched leader brought upon them. Meanwhile, the troops wait and wonder when they will begin their real mission.

But, undeterred, as 1st Sgt. James R. Norris would say, "in the spirit of the American soldier," these troops landscaped and redecorated their World War II-vintage barracks, with everything from wishing wells and carnations (the female barracks), to anti-aircraft sandbags with dummy soldiers and mock mortars, awaiting a mission to Iraq (the guy barracks). Not love these soldiers? Retain cold journalistic objectivity? Are you kidding?

The Stockholm Syndrome runs at fever pitch. And we await our big iron bird.