And the men under them died defending a valley that a few years later the US decided wasn't really worth the effort anymore and ceded it back to the Afghans.  Those grizzled old crypt-keeper, henna-bearded ingrates who care more about dead cows than dead humans.

I am jaded and broken.

I will never forget sitting on the arm of the sofa in my hotel room on Fort Knox, cheering as the Iraqis pulled down the statue of Saddam Hussein.  Back when I thought everyone in this world deep down wanted to live in freedom.  That the world deserved liberty.  That all men were endowed with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I just didn't realize that what makes many Afghans happy is to be left alone to bugger little boys and honor-kill their daughters.

A decade later, what I see is that most Americans don't even want liberty.  Not true liberty.  They will trade liberty for security nearly every time.  And if we can't get more than 15% of Americans to vote for personal liberty and responsibility, how in the hell did we think we could export that desire to the Middle East?

I really believed that what my country and Army was doing was noble.  But I was willfully ignorant too, ignorant that the task was monumentally too difficult to ever succeed.

And not worth it.

1 I agree with you so much on this. 

2 This is how I've felt for seven years now. Welcome to my world. It's a bleak place. I'm scared.

3

For a decade, we have been reinventing the wheel.

For lots longer than that.  The period 1965-73 comes to mind.

4 I really believed that what my country and Army was doing was noble. But I was willfully ignorant too, ignorant that the task was monumentally too difficult to ever succeed.
The likelihood of success never had anything to do with the nobility of the undertaking.  On a national policy level, if ever we had such a thing, we have no chance to succeed in Afghanistan and we never did.
But we can and do have small victories, and we find what nobility we can in a Sisyphean task well-executed.
I wouldn't feel much different deploying there now than I did in 2005--my task is to take care of my people, and lead them in trying to do a thing that can't be done.  We will succeed within the sphere of our influence; it's just a much smaller sphere than we'd like to believe.  That's as true for nations as it is for five-man teams.

5

Glenmore,

American history didn't begin with the Vietnam War.

Sarah,

I get where you're coming from, but the reason I can't think this way about it is because I served in Korea. Not in the war, of course, but standing where they stood with the hindsight view of the war 50 years later.

I spent time with Korean War veterans and know they, too, felt "jaded and broken" from their experience. I know enough of the war's history to know that many of our Korean War veterans and Americans in general felt, at the time, that Korea "was not worth it" and the "task was monumentally too difficult to ever succeed".

While north Korea continues to be a testament to what we failed to achieve now-60 years ago, South Korea is a testament to what our sacrifices and commitment did help achieve. The South Korea at the time that hostilities were suspended was radically different than the South Korea of today. The likelihood that South Korea would stand up as it has seemed unlikely when the war ended.

Of course, comparing the South Korea of today to the Korea of 60 years ago can't guarantee the same positive development for Iraq and Afghanistan, but it does remind us that changing the course of a country doesn't bear fruit right away. It may take a lifetime.