XPost: alt.politics.democrats, alt.fan.rush-limbaugh, talk.politics.guns   
   XPost: sac.politics   
   From: democrat@liars.org   
      
   Elena Zurheide was relaxing at her home in Camp Pendleton, Calif., due to   
   deliver her first child. It was April 12, 2004. On the other side of the   
   world, her husband, Rob, lay dying.   
      
   A U.S. Marine mortar had sailed through the sky and dropped nearly on top   
   of him, inside a dusty courtyard of a school in Fallujah, Iraq, where he   
   and other members of his Marine unit were hunkered down, fighting   
   insurgents.   
      
   But when a Marine officer came and knocked on Elena's door, he didn't say   
   her husband and two others had been killed that day by a horrible mistake.   
   He told her Rob was killed by enemy fire.   
      
   The Marines finally acknowledged it was friendly fire three years later,   
   under pressure from Congress, but Elena still has questions.   
      
   "All of this is a big fat lie," she says. "Why did they keep it secret to   
   begin with?"   
      
   Earlier this year, NPR's podcast Taking Cover tried to get to the truth.   
   It revealed that the son of a prominent politician was involved in the   
   mistake - and the whole thing had been covered up.   
      
   Now, Sen. Mark Kelly, D-Ariz., a member of the Senate Armed Services   
   Committee, is asking the Marine Corps for answers.   
      
   "Robert Zurheide's widow, Elena, is one of my constituents," Kelly told   
   NPR, sitting at his office on Capitol Hill. "His son, Robert, who wasn't   
   even born when he was killed is there in Tucson with his mom."   
      
   "They deserve answers. It's important that they get them," Kelly said.   
   "Not only them, but the folks who were wounded. Why were they not   
   informed? You know, why did that take this long? They should be informed   
   immediately. The Marine Corps has regulations, and they need to follow   
   them."   
      
   Kelly is himself a combat veteran, who flew A-6 fighter jets during the   
   first Gulf War, and later became an astronaut. He sits behind a desk that   
   used to belong to another Navy pilot, John McCain, and said he knows the   
   importance of keeping faith with military families.   
      
   Kelly said he met recently with the number two Marine officer, Gen.   
   Christopher Mahoney, and asked him about the friendly fire that killed Rob   
   Zurheide, Brad Shuder, and an Iraqi interpreter. Nearly a dozen others   
   were wounded, some serious enough to receive a medical retirement.   
      
   "(Mahoney) was familiar with it. And he told us he's going to get us some   
   answers," Kelly said. "And I trust he's going to do that."   
      
   When NPR went to the Marines for answers, at first they couldn't find any   
   documentation of the friendly fire, so NPR sued in federal court to get a   
   copy of the investigation. The Marines also gave conflicting stories about   
   how the friendly fire happened. And even once the details came out in   
   Taking Cover, they failed to follow their own regulations and reach out to   
   the wounded veterans.   
      
   One of the men still waiting is John Smith, a Marine corporal who lost a   
   leg and the use of an eye in the blast. These days he's working on a   
   master's degree in mental health counseling, and is a hip hop artist on   
   the side. He moves slowly, with a stiff gait.   
      
   He said the explosion comes to mind each time he straps on his prosthetic   
   leg.   
      
   "For about ten, fifteen minutes in the morning, I'm back in 2004 because I   
   have to put myself back together every time," Smith said. "So it's like I   
   don't get to move all the way forward. But I mean after I put myself   
   together, my daughter runs down, and I'm like, 'Hey, I'm here now."   
      
   By Pentagon regulations, someone from the Marines should have met with   
   Smith, explained the circumstances of the incident that injured him and   
   given him a copy of the investigation some 20 years ago. Instead, he   
   learned it was friendly fire from NPR three years ago.   
      
   Smith is still angry at the Marine leadership for failing to tell him the   
   truth.   
      
   "The only word I can say is disgusting," he said. "Like, you espouse the   
   words, honor, courage, commitment and you want us to follow them, and we   
   give our life to follow them. But when the ball falls on you, it's all of   
   a sudden not important."   
      
   As revealed in Taking Cover, one of the Marines involved in the deadly   
   mistake — the officer who plotted the mortar mission — was 1st Lt. Duncan   
   D. Hunter, son of Duncan L. Hunter, then a California congressman and the   
   powerful chairman of the House Armed Services Committee.   
      
   The younger Hunter declined to talk about his actions that day, when NPR   
   spoke with him earlier this year. His father, who visited the Marine base   
   in Fallujah a few weeks after the blast while it was still being   
   investigated, told us in a long interview he had never heard of the   
   friendly fire.   
      
   Some of the senior Marine officers who were in Fallujah when the blast   
   occurred declined to talk, including those who would later become   
   household names: James Mattis, who served as defense secretary under   
   President Trump, and John Kelly, who was Trump's chief of staff.   
      
   But many lower-level Marines and soldiers sat down with NPR. Among them   
   was Joe Colabuno, one of two Army soldiers wounded in the school   
   courtyard.   
      
   On the National Mall last summer, sitting on a bench and almost drowned   
   out by the buzzing of cicadas, he recalled seeing the mortar round fall   
   while he and his friend were having a smoke in that school courtyard. Not   
   far away was his Iraqi interpreter, Shihab.   
      
   Shihab had taken the job to help support his sisters and brothers, his   
   family members later said. NPR is not using Shihab's full name because his   
   family still lives in Baghdad, and members fear they could be under threat   
   from people who still resent the Americans.   
      
   "I got blasted against, there was a little wall you know," Colabuno   
   remembered.   
      
   Colabuno also recalled Shihab, standing relaxed, looking up through the   
   opening of the schoolhouse courtyard right before the blast.   
      
   "Shihab was just ... staring up at the stars," he said, his voice   
   breaking.   
      
   Colabuno and his friend John Nelson were both badly wounded. They're still   
   on active duty and each reached the rank of Sergeant Major. The Marines   
   never told them the truth about their wounds, and about the death of their   
   friend, Shihab.   
      
   Colabuno said he always assumed the explosion that day in April 2004 was   
   caused by the enemy, until NPR told him what really happened. He's never   
   talked much about that day.   
      
   "I don't carry it like a weight. I carry it sometimes I guess, but I   
   mean..." he said, his voice trailing off. "I mean war sucks, war is hell   
   right? I mean, we know that. But why (be) so stupid to... why would you   
   cover it up?"   
      
   Colabuno points off in the distance to the U.S. Capitol building, where   
   Congress meets.   
      
   "The further we get away from war, the less they understand the cost of   
   war going forward," he said. "I mean, it needs to be an incredible tax on   
   the nation to go to war. Because we need to think real f***ing hard before   
   we do that."   
      
   Marines who were in Fallujah the day of the attack, who still bear the   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)