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The War Profiteers - War Crimes,
Kidnappings, Torture and Big Money |
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September 17th, 2006 - The Face Of
Haditha |
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Frank Wuterich led the Marines accused of the massacre in Iraq. He
talks here for the first time By Sally B. Donnelly Time Magazine Sunday, Sep. 17, 2006 Frank Wuterich knew before
he finished boot camp that he didn't want to be a Marine for life, but he may
wind up one anyway. Wuterich is the central suspect in the Iraq war's most
notorious massacre, at Haditha, where 24 Iraqis were killed by U.S.
Marines--Marines led by Wuterich. During his first media interview, the
former high school band member and honor student is exceedingly polite.
Wearing jeans, black sneakers and a light blue polo shirt, he shows a visitor
around his two-story semidetached house at Camp Pendleton in southern
California, patiently answers questions and waits good-naturedly for a
photographer to set up his equipment. There is no military paraphernalia
cluttering his home, which is filled instead with family pictures,
knickknacks, and souvenirs from his wife Marisol's sorority days. His
4-year-old daughter is just up from her nap, and he kisses her forehead. He
allows Marisol, who is expecting their third child in January, to finish his
sentences. Wuterich, 26, who grew up in
Meriden, Conn., signed up for the Marines at 17 and volunteered for the
infantry, the grunts who are the heart and soul of the corps. Finding boot
camp a dull grind compared with what he felt the recruiting videos had
promised, he asked to switch out of the infantry. "I thought I could use
my mind a little differently," he says. But he was turned down. He tried
again in 2002, requesting a transfer to counterintelligence, but his eight
tattoos disqualified him; those kinds of markings make a man too easy to
identify. Among the tattoos on his arms, chest, neck and leg are a series of
musical notes, the kanji character for endure and a heart for an
ex-girlfriend. The one tattoo he's reluctant to exhibit, on the inside of his
right forearm, is of a skewer running through a bunch of severed fingers and
eyeballs. "That's the one I really don't like," Marisol says
sternly but with a smile. Wuterich long imagined the
corps as just a stop on the way to a career as a music producer, but he
re-enlisted after 9/11, in part to support his family while Marisol finished
her nursing degree but also because he was itching for action. With the rank
of sergeant, he was dispatched to Iraq with Kilo Company of the 3rd
Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, in September 2005. He saw his first firefight
that month in the town of Hit when his team suddenly came under fire.
"Was I scared? Sure," he says. It turned out that the shots were
com-ing from a Marine officer, who quit shooting once Wuterich's guys sent up
three red flares letting him know they were friendly. While under fire, the
squad members, none of whom were hurt, took cover and waited to identify the
threat before shooting back. They performed just as they were supposed to,
Wuterich says. His remark hangs in the air. Wuterich is under
investigation for what happened on another day, just two months after his
arrival in Iraq. On the morning of Nov. 19, 2005, Wuterich's squad, on patrol
in Haditha, was hit by an improvised explosive device that killed one of his
men. Iraqi witnesses and sources familiar with the two Pentagon
investigations under way claim that several of the squad's 12 Marines then
went on a rampage of killing in the town, leaving 24 Iraqis dead, including
five women and six children. Wuterich's lawyer Neal Puckett would not permit
Wuterich to talk about those events. Puckett has said publicly that Wuterich
felt his unit was under attack in Haditha and acted appropriately under the
rules of engagement that allow Marines to defend themselves if they are in
reasonable fear for their lives. According to sources familiar with the
Haditha inquiries, six to eight Marines will probably be charged in the
episode as early as next week. Wuterich is expected to be among those charged
with the most serious crimes, which could include murder, for which he could
face the death penalty. "I'm mystified by a lot
of this," he says. He wonders, for instance, why the investigators have
not pushed harder to speak to him. But it was his lawyer who did not allow
him to talk to them, as is common practice among defense attorneys. Wuterich
was scheduled for retirement three months ago, but is being involuntarily
held in the corps while the probes continue. Transferred to Pendleton with
the rest of his unit in April, he is officially on duty, but he is not a full
member of his platoon. When it goes on a training exercise soon, he is not
likely to participate; the corps doesn't want to train him and then lose him
if he goes on trial. Wuterich says he occasionally sees members of his Kilo
Company squad at Pendleton, but they keep their distance. "It is sort of
uncomfortable," he says. There are small, subtle
signs of Wuterich's detaching himself from his military life: his boots are
too scuffed and worn for a Marine. And he hasn't updated his old dress
uniform by sewing on the chevron that shows his higher rank. His superiors
put in for his promotion to staff sergeant last October, and it came through
on Jan. 1--six weeks after Haditha. He says the jacket's too tight, anyway. Copyright © 2006 Time Inc.
All rights reserved. External link:
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1535831,00.html |