He Is Not a Number

Last week the United States reached a milestone that no one wanted to see – the number of men and women killed in action in Iraq reached 2,500. That number is about the same as the student body at my high school. It’s hard to believe that we have buried that many marines, soldiers and sailors. 2,370 of them have been buried since we declared an end to major combat and hung the infamous “Mission Accomplished” banner in May 2003; 2,042 of them have been buried since Saddam was captured in December 2003; 1,641 have been buried since the “handover” of power in June 2004; and 1,071 have been buried since the election in January 2005.

When Tony Snow, the president’s new press secretary, was asked to comment on this death, his response shocked me. He said, “It’s a number.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Shock morphed to anger in a matter of seconds.

No, Mr. Snow, it is not a number! “It” is not an “it”. He was a man. He was a son; a grandson; a brother; a husband; a father; a nephew; an uncle; a cousin; a friend; a neighbor; a classmate; a co-worker; a buddy; a comrade in arms; a fellow Marine; an American. He was a Boy Scout; a pitcher; a quarterback; a wrestler; a guitar player; a gamer; a motorcycle rider; a dog lover; a baseball card collector; a hip hop fan; a Coors Light guy. He was many things to many people. But he was not a number.

And, for the record, the 2,499th man to die wasn’t a number, either. Neither was the 2,501st; the 2,502nd; the 2,503rd; the 2,504th; the 2,505th; the 2,506th; or the 2,507th. Neither will the 2,508th American who dies be a number. He, too, will be a man who was an infant, a child, an adolescent, and a young man. But, he will never be an old man.

And, for the record, the 214 Coalition troops who have died in Iraq and the 303 Americans who died in Afghanistan are not numbers, either. Oh, by the way, neither are the tens of thousands of non-combatant Iraqis and Afghanis who have died as “collateral damage”.

And, for the record, the 18,500 American men and women who have been wounded in Iraq are not numbers, either. I know one of the wounded very well; I’ve known him as an infant, a child, an adolescent, a young man and now as a mature man. I’ve known him as a son, a husband, a father, a fellow sailor. I’ve known him as an Eagle Scout, a football and baseball player, a wrestler, a Cowboys and Padres fan, and a barbeque master. He has always had a name and face and a voice. He has never been a number.

It seems clear that Tony Snow has never known any of the 2,507; or any of the 18,500; or any of the 214; or any of the 303; or any of the tens of thousands. He does not know my son. I suspect that his son has never been to Iraq or Afghanistan and never will go to war.

I never thought I’d miss Scott McClellan. Like Tony, he could count. Unlike Tony, he never suggested he was counting numbers.