Why I have hope
(The following story about dozens of foreign-born U.S. Army soldiers who gathered Nov. 4 in Baghdad to take the U.S. oath of citizenship was written by former Franklin resident Seth Bodnar. He is a captain in the U.S.
Army stationed in Baghdad, where he is a Special Forces officer with the Headquarters, Multi-National Force
(A 1997 graduate and valedictorian of his class at Franklin High School, Bodnar was valedictorian of the class of 2001 at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and was a Rhodes Scholar from 2001 to 2003 in Oxford, England, where he earned master’s degrees in comparative social policy and economic and social history. He is the son of Nicholas and Laurel Bodnar of Kennerdell.
)
Lost among the countless stories covering the historic election of the next leader of our nation was the account of 186 men and women in Baghdad who were awarded what Justice Louis Brandeis once termed "the only title in our democracy superior to that of president”— citizen.
Given a brief respite from their daily duties braving innumerable dangers to bring peace and stability to cities and towns across Iraq, a remarkable group of foreign-born soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines converged on Baghdad for a ceremony at the U.S. headquarters in one of Saddam Hussein’s former palaces.
Before an American flag hanging from the ceiling of the palace’s cavernous rotunda, they held up their right hands and swore allegiance to a nation for which they were already risking their lives. They came from 60 different countries across the globe, and standing together in a formation surrounded by Saddam’s marbled columns, they became the newest additions to the beautiful mosaic of American citizenry.
In the ranks of this incredibly diverse group was a young woman who in March of 2003 stood on the roof of her parents’ house in Baghdad and watched as anti-aircraft fire lit up the night sky. Wanting to help her nation recover, she disregarded numerous threats and volunteered for a hazardous job as a translator for U.S. forces. She later married an American and moved to the United States. Still seeking to contribute, she joined the National Guard and this past summer deployed to Iraq. On Tuesday (Nov. 4), in the city of her birth, she became a U.S. citizen, and she continues to proudly serve her native country…and her new country.
Since 2002, more than 40,000 members of the Armed Forces have become naturalized citizens – including 117 who have received the honor posthumously. At a time when we are having trouble filling the ranks of our Armed Forces, these immigrants stood up to defend the rights that we Americans are so fortunate to enjoy – even though they were not yet able to fully partake of those rights.
One of the resonating themes of the recent campaign season was the repeated call for a new spirit of service and sacrifice. This momentous election inspired hope in millions of Americans, and commentators across the country have heralded the emergence of a renewed sense of citizenship and a growing hunger to serve our nation.
With apologies to our politicians, however, no campaign event or speech or rally can arouse the kind of hope I felt watching these heroes become full members of our society. It was a hope inspired by the continued promise of America as a land where anything is possible, a hope buoyed by the courage of these immigrants, who, like millions before them, were drawn to America by the idea of opportunity – and who today embody the idea of service.
There were no black-tie galas to commemorate these soldiers’ achievement, no famous rock stars to perform a tribute concert. The ceremony didn’t even make the evening news. After receiving a certificate and having their picture taken with the ambassador and the commanding general, America’s newest citizens gave each other congratulatory handshakes, hugs, and a few slaps on the back.
They pitched in to fold chairs, stack tables and clean up after the ceremony. Then, picking up their rifles, they walked out of the Coalition headquarters and back into the Iraqi sun and dust. They climbed into armored trucks or boarded helicopters, and they began the journey back to their platoons and companies at outposts across the country. Now able to fully enjoy the rights of an American citizen, they went back out into harm’s way to continue carrying out their sworn obligation to support and defend them.
(The following story about dozens of foreign-born U.S. Army soldiers who gathered Nov. 4 in Baghdad to take the U.S. oath of citizenship was written by former Franklin resident Seth Bodnar. He is a captain in the U.S.
Army stationed in Baghdad, where he is a Special Forces officer with the Headquarters, Multi-National Force
(A 1997 graduate and valedictorian of his class at Franklin High School, Bodnar was valedictorian of the class of 2001 at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and was a Rhodes Scholar from 2001 to 2003 in Oxford, England, where he earned master’s degrees in comparative social policy and economic and social history. He is the son of Nicholas and Laurel Bodnar of Kennerdell.
)
Lost among the countless stories covering the historic election of the next leader of our nation was the account of 186 men and women in Baghdad who were awarded what Justice Louis Brandeis once termed "the only title in our democracy superior to that of president”— citizen.
Given a brief respite from their daily duties braving innumerable dangers to bring peace and stability to cities and towns across Iraq, a remarkable group of foreign-born soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines converged on Baghdad for a ceremony at the U.S. headquarters in one of Saddam Hussein’s former palaces.
Before an American flag hanging from the ceiling of the palace’s cavernous rotunda, they held up their right hands and swore allegiance to a nation for which they were already risking their lives. They came from 60 different countries across the globe, and standing together in a formation surrounded by Saddam’s marbled columns, they became the newest additions to the beautiful mosaic of American citizenry.
In the ranks of this incredibly diverse group was a young woman who in March of 2003 stood on the roof of her parents’ house in Baghdad and watched as anti-aircraft fire lit up the night sky. Wanting to help her nation recover, she disregarded numerous threats and volunteered for a hazardous job as a translator for U.S. forces. She later married an American and moved to the United States. Still seeking to contribute, she joined the National Guard and this past summer deployed to Iraq. On Tuesday (Nov. 4), in the city of her birth, she became a U.S. citizen, and she continues to proudly serve her native country…and her new country.
Since 2002, more than 40,000 members of the Armed Forces have become naturalized citizens – including 117 who have received the honor posthumously. At a time when we are having trouble filling the ranks of our Armed Forces, these immigrants stood up to defend the rights that we Americans are so fortunate to enjoy – even though they were not yet able to fully partake of those rights.
One of the resonating themes of the recent campaign season was the repeated call for a new spirit of service and sacrifice. This momentous election inspired hope in millions of Americans, and commentators across the country have heralded the emergence of a renewed sense of citizenship and a growing hunger to serve our nation.
With apologies to our politicians, however, no campaign event or speech or rally can arouse the kind of hope I felt watching these heroes become full members of our society. It was a hope inspired by the continued promise of America as a land where anything is possible, a hope buoyed by the courage of these immigrants, who, like millions before them, were drawn to America by the idea of opportunity – and who today embody the idea of service.
There were no black-tie galas to commemorate these soldiers’ achievement, no famous rock stars to perform a tribute concert. The ceremony didn’t even make the evening news. After receiving a certificate and having their picture taken with the ambassador and the commanding general, America’s newest citizens gave each other congratulatory handshakes, hugs, and a few slaps on the back.
They pitched in to fold chairs, stack tables and clean up after the ceremony. Then, picking up their rifles, they walked out of the Coalition headquarters and back into the Iraqi sun and dust. They climbed into armored trucks or boarded helicopters, and they began the journey back to their platoons and companies at outposts across the country. Now able to fully enjoy the rights of an American citizen, they went back out into harm’s way to continue carrying out their sworn obligation to support and defend them.
