Allies in Combat, Now Unwanted

http://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/29/opinion/allies-in-combat-now-unwanted.html

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During much of 2004, an Iraqi man whom I’ll call Frank, to protect his identity, served with my Marine Corps unit with great distinction. While our platoon lived among Iraqi soldiers in a village outside Falluja, our interpreters were our bridge to the surrounding community. Our relationships with local religious and tribal leaders kept us safe. Although the area was dangerous and attacks on United States troops were frequent, in that town, my unit was never touched. That was thanks to the efforts of Frank and other local interpreters.

That November, my platoon of 30 Marines and 30 Iraqi National Guard soldiers pushed into Falluja for the second day of the fierce battle to retake the city from insurgents. As one of my squads assaulted a building, my platoon sergeant and Frank were shot and had to be evacuated by helicopter. To this day, Frank feels pain in his leg.

His willingness, and the willingness of many other Iraqis like him, to brave battle and help American forces put them and their families in grave danger from militants.

In 2006, another one of my interpreters, Abood, and his family were forced to flee Iraq after militants left a dog’s head outside their door with a note saying that they would be next. I owed my life to Abood and cannot count the number of times he put himself in harm’s way to protect “his” Marines. Two of Abood’s four daughters also served as interpreters. At the time, there was no way for them to immigrate to the United States, so he and his family fled to Jordan, where they waited with faint hopes that America would open its doors.

Upset with the plight of these close allies, I testified before the Senate in January 2007 about the need to protect our interpreters. In an odd twist of fate, I met with Gen. John Kelly, now President Trump’s secretary of homeland security, who was then in charge of legislative affairs for the Marine Corps. Officially, he needed to ensure that I wasn’t going to embarrass the Marine Corps. But I’ll never forget his words to me: Abood had worn the Marine Corps uniform in combat, and we had an obligation to keep him safe.

Following that hearing, Congress created a special visa program for Iraqis who helped the United States during the war. (A similar program was later created for Afghans.) This was not a partisan issue, but an issue of national honor and responsibility, and thousands of people have come to the United States on those visas.

Seven months after I testified, Abood and his family arrived in the United States, as refugees. He passed away five years ago from cancer, but his daughters and wife are here. One daughter is a New York City police officer, and another is applying to join the force. Abood, like Frank and many other interpreters, joined our ranks because he believed America stood for something bigger than itself. They believed America was an exceptional country.

Two months ago, I got an email from Frank. He was still living in Baghdad with daily fears for his and his family’s safety. After six years of vetting, including what seemed like countless interviews and background checks by various government agencies, he had finally been cleared to come to the United States with his pregnant wife and 18-month-old son. My wife and I began to prepare our guest room for their arrival.

But now, because of a new executive order by President Trump, Frank is no longer welcome.

And he is far from alone. The order Mr. Trump signed on Friday suspended entry of all refugees to the United States for 120 days, barred Syrian refugees indefinitely and blocked entry into the United States for 90 days for citizens of seven predominantly Muslim countries, including Iraq. Almost immediately my phone lit up with emails and texts from other military veterans who had been fighting to get their Iraqi or Afghan interpreters to the United States. Some were already on flights to New York and San Francisco. Now those people, including Frank and his family and hundreds of others in the special visa pipeline, are in limbo.

When he signed the order, Mr. Trump declared that his action would keep Islamic terrorists out of America. “We don’t want them here,” he said. “We want to ensure that we are not admitting into our country the very threats our soldiers are fighting overseas.”

But his measure is keeping out the very Muslims we do want here. Frank and thousands of other Iraqis and Afghans who worked with our forces in combat embody so much of what we stand for as a nation. And like so many past immigrants to America, like so many of our ancestors, they are fleeing repression for the hopes of a better life.

More important, they did something that fewer and fewer Americans have chosen to do: They wore, at great risk, the uniform of our military. Frank fought and bled alongside us. And now, in his time of need, we have turned our backs on him, and on the very ideals that make this country great.