Portraits of Courage

Jessica & Mohammed





Sunday, April 13, 2003




Standing back and hoping - a fatherly reaction to daughters at war...

A couple of weeks ago we went to the end-of-the-year soccer tournament - three games in one day. Now that the girls are 12, the games are getting rough.

My wife started to count the number of times my daughter was knocked flat, but after we got up to double digits, I didn't want to hear any more. Finally, in one game she collided full blast with another player and they both went down hard. And stayed there.

The rule is no parents on the field. In fact, if someone is hurt even the coach has to wait until the referee asks him to come out. And we're not supposed to call out either - that's been made pretty clear in the rides back home. So we stand off at a distance, quietly hoping for the best.

It turns out that's a big part of being a dad. I thought of that last week when it was announced that Pfc. Jessica Lynch had been rescued from an Iraqi hospital by Special Forces. That was no soccer game, of course, it was war. And lynch wasn't chasing a ball; she was dodging, and shooting, real bullets.

But at 19, she wasn't so far removed from those girls on the soccer field, and at 5-4, she certainly wasn't much bigger. A year out of high school and there she was, taking cover and emptying her rifle at enemy forces.

You know it wasn't so long ago that women were expected to swoon at the sight of blood, wear pinafores and petticoats, and cheer from the sidelines. At the 1928 Olympic Games several women collapsed at the end of the 800 meter run. Do-gooders and pencil pushers were so shocked that they decreed that women would not be allowed to run a race longer than 200 meters in the Olympics. That ban lasted 32 years, until 1960. And it wasn't until 1984, just 20 years ago, that women were allowed to compete in the Olympic marathon.

They are off the sidelines now, in the game and in the field. Now they're getting credit for being tough, not wimpy.

"God what a kid," said Texas Tech basketball coach Bob Knight about Lynch. "If we had five of her, I don't think we would lose to anybody."

But now that we've set them free we have to stand back and watch quietly if they fall. Jessica Lynch joined the Army, we've learned, because her tiny home town, Palestine, W.Va., has one of the highest unemployment rates in the country. In another era, a dad might have hoped that she'd marry well. Instead, Jessica signed up with a recruiter, thinking that after her hitch she'd be able to go to college.

Of course, it isn't easy to see your son march off to war. But we are still getting our minds around the idea of women firing rifles at enemy troops. One of the last photos the Lynch family had of Jessica before she left was of her and her buddy Lori Piestewa. The two were roommates and pals, and the picture showed them grinning into the camera, arms around each other.

Piestewa was killed in the ambush in which Lynch was captured. She was 22.

My daughter was just fine, of course, as was the girl she ran into. So was the player on our team who had to go to the emergency room for an X-ray. And so was Pfc. Jessica Lynch. Mostly.

We are now hearing from terrorism experts that her broken legs were almost certainly the result of torture. The Iraqis, it is said, sometimes use steel bars to break the bones of captives.

We can only imagine what it must be like for Jessica's parents to hear that. Most likely, they have made small bargains with fate. If only she is alive...if only she can be rescued...if only she is not seriously hurt...they will not complain.

But really it wasn't a miracle that she was found. We now know that an Iraqi lawyer known only as Mohammed spotted Jessica at the hospital, saw her being slapped and abused, and led American forces to her.

Why would he do something so dangerous and brave? Several reasons, probably. But I thought it was interesting to hear that Mohammed has a little girl, 6 years old. He's a dad. He understands.