Full text here; an excerpt:

Today marks the second anniversary of the invasion and occupation of Iraq, a key milestone in the current U.S. Government’s campaign of lies and deceit common since 9/11. We were first told that there was a link between Iraq and the horrible 9/11 attacks. But there was none.  Then we were told that Iraq had Weapons of Mass Destruction; yet only a few old warheads and some dormant bacterial cultures have been found despite rigorous searching.  Then finally, we were told that Saddam Hussein was training terrorists to attack the United States, but no terrorist presence seems to have existed in Iraq prior to the massive build-up in early 2003.   Post-invasion Iraq, however, has clearly become a hotbed for new terrorist threats. 

We, the veterans of the war, now know all of these reasons for invading the sovereign country of Iraq were false, and we have paid a heavy price for these lies.  Two years into a seemingly endless war, our nation has incurred a terrible debt, while the corporations who profit from the business of war reap millions. Our deficit has climbed to a rate that can only be paid by our children’s grand children. While our domestic programs crumble, the social and economic future of our children is indeed bleak. Most tragic, over 1,500 of our comrades in arms have given the ultimate sacrifice for this senseless, imprudent, and immoral policy of war and occupation.  A cross section of our county, these extraordinary men and women came from all walks of life.  They were both poor and wealthy, high school dropouts and highly trained professionals.  All believed in their country’s leadership and in their own duty to that country, and so they went into needless slaughter.  Every one of these fallen comrades was loved by their families and many in their community.  They were our sons and daughters, our husbands and wives, our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers; most of all, they were our friends and they are sorely missed.  If they could arise from their graves and speak, they would tell us to find a better way to solve our conflicts.

Whatever the reasons for this counterproductive conflict, it is now clear that it had nothing to do with helping the Iraqi people.  We, the troops, were told that we were not invaders and occupiers, but liberators and protectors of the Iraqi people, and that we would bring them freedom, prosperity and a better life.  Specific numbers of the Iraqi dead are not known, since “We don’t do body counts,” as General Tommy Franks said.  However, we do know that we shoulder some of the responsibility for the thousands of innocent civilians that have been killed. In addition, important commodities such as food, water, power, and sanitation are not readily available ensuring the continued suffering and death of countless innocent Iraqis.  Iraqi Children play amongst explosives and clouds of depleted uranium dust, and bombings of markets and mosques are a daily occurrence.  In many ways, we have made the lives of average Iraqis worse, not better, since the invasion.  It is no wonder, then, that the terrorism that was not present in Iraq prior to the US invasion is now a daily reality there.

People would ask me about my war experiences and answering them took me back to all the horrors—the firefights, the ambushes, the time I saw a young Iraqi dragged by his shoulders through a pool of his own blood or an innocent man was decapitated by our machine gun fire. The time I saw a soldier broken down inside because he killed a child, or an old man on his knees, crying with his arms raised to the sky, perhaps asking God why we had taken the lifeless body of his son. I thought of the suffering of a people whose country was in ruins and who were further humiliated by the raids, patrols and curfews of an occupying army. And I realized that none of the reasons we were told about why we were in Iraq turned out to be true. There were no weapons of mass destruction. There was no link between Saddam Hussein and al Qaeda. We weren’t helping the Iraqi people and the Iraqi people didn’t want us there. We weren’t preventing terrorism or making Americans safer. I couldn’t find a single good reason for having been there, for having shot at people and been shot at. Coming home gave me the clarity to see the line between military duty and moral obligation. I realized that I was part of a war that I believed was immoral and criminal, a war of aggression, a war of imperial domination. I realized that acting upon my principles became incompatible with my role in the military, and I decided that I could not return to Iraq…. When I turned myself in, with all my fears and doubts, it did it not only for myself. I did it for the people of Iraq, even for those who fired upon me—they were just on the other side of a battleground where war itself was the only enemy. I did it for the Iraqi children, who are victims of mines and depleted uranium. I did it for the thousands of unknown civilians killed in war. My time in prison is a small price compared to the price Iraqis and Americans have paid with their lives. Mine is a small price compared to the price Humanity has paid for war…. I was a coward not for leaving the war, but for having been a part of it in the first place. Refusing and resisting this war was my moral duty, a moral duty that called me to take a principled action. I failed to fulfill my moral duty as a human being and instead I chose to fulfill my duty as a soldier. All because I was afraid. I was terrified, I did not want to stand up to the government and the army, I was afraid of punishment and humiliation. I went to war because at the moment I was a coward, and for that I apologize to my soldiers for not being the type of leader I should have been. I also apologize to the Iraqi people. To them I say I am sorry for the curfews, for the raids, for the killings. May they find it in their hearts to forgive me. One of the reasons I did not refuse the war from the beginning was that I was afraid of losing my freedom. Today, as I sit behind bars I realize that there are many types of freedom, and that in spite of my confinement I remain free in many important ways. What good is freedom if we are afraid to follow our conscience? What good is freedom if we are not able to live with our own actions? I am confined to a prison but I feel, today more than ever, connected to all humanity. Behind these bars I sit a free man because I listened to a higher power, the voice of my conscience. While I was confined in total segregation, I came across a poem written by a man who refused and resisted the government of Nazi Germany. For doing so he was executed. His name is Albrecht Hanshofer, and he wrote this poem as he awaited execution. GUILT The burden of my guilt before the law weighs light upon my shoulders; to plot and to conspire was my duty to the people; I would have been a criminal had I not. I am guilty, though not the way you think, I should have done my duty sooner, I was wrong, I should have called evil more clearly by its name I hesitated to condemn it for far too long. I now accuse myself within my heart: I have betrayed my conscience far too long I have deceived myself and fellow man. I knew the course of evil from the start My warning was not loud nor clear enough! Today I know what I was guilty of… To those who are still quiet, to those who continue to betray their conscience, to those who are not calling evil more clearly by its name, to those of us who are still not doing enough to refuse and resist, I say “come forward.”  I say “free your minds.”

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