In the middle of January 1991 – on Wednesday the 16th, to be exact – my family flicked on the Zenith, and we sat and watched the evening news in silence. Dan Rather spoke in a droning monotone and then the screen went dark. We saw a collage of hulking forms outlined in an eerie green. At first, I could not make out what I was seeing, and then it dawned on me what was happening – in a moment, there was an exploding building, and then another. We were watching American jets launch missiles in a precision bombing raid over Baghdad. My stomach sank as I watched the attack, but the stage was set for months: Iraq invaded Kuwait the summer before, and its people called for liberation. Diplomacy and regional pressure did not dissuade Iraq’s leader Saddam Hussein (dubbed “So Damned Insane” by late-night comedians) to relinquish what he claimed was a lost province. The United Nations gave him an ultimatum to leave by January 15. He did not budge. We knew the war would come, and it came fully televised. Exactly a week later, my stepfather’s ship left for war. And thus began the United States’ actions against Iraq.
I grew up in a Navy family. For almost as long as I can remember, grey funnels, oily reprocessed air, and the clanging of ship’s bells people my memories. Unlike other Navy kids, I visited my stepfather’s place of work often. Weekends meant I got to hang around his R division shop; and as he advanced from chief to mustang, his wardroom. I paid close attention to fleet minutiae, shipboard politics, and even read all the manuals strewn about from an early age. By the time I was in First Grade, I knew our allies’ names and understood the Soviet Union as the greatest of evils (the Germans and Japanese confused me – we were enemies in the Big One, but we’re now friends). I also vividly remember the Shah of Iran’s overthrow and the hostage crisis; I cheered when the American embassy workers stepped off the plane. I learned to hate Hezbollah, Castro, and a host of foreign adversaries, including domestic turncoats like Lee Harvey Oswald (calling someone “a Lee Harvey” was the worst of insults). It was a dangerous world, and the Navy was ready at a moment’s notice to leave its role as a force of deterrence for one of war. No sailor wants war, my stepfather told me, but we must be ready.
Most of my classmates had a father or a mother part of the U.S. Navy Atlantic fleet. Any one of them was on a cruise at any point of the year – these were dress exercises of the ships in combat or to show the American flag in Europe, Africa, or the Persian Gulf. The implicit understanding that any of our parents could be deployed for war at any moment did not make the steaming of their ships to the Middle East after the attack on Iraq easy. All of us were on edge that our loved ones would die. Iraq’s army was the fourth largest globally, battle-hardened after a decade-long conflict with Iran, and versed in desert fighting. We knew about the Iraqi use of nerve agents on civilians – these same weapons would inevitably be unleashed on our forces by a rain of SCUD missiles we reckoned. Since mine was a military town, my high school held a gathering in the auditorium to calm the student body and to avail us counselors. My stepfather had gone on cruises before, so I knew my place was to stay the course: do well in school, take care of all the house, mind my mother, and take care of my siblings. Going to war was different from a jaunt to Gitmo. I did not allow myself to be scared. I put on a strong face and tried not to think of the worst, but the fear gnawed inside. More than once, I felt myself on the verge of tears and told myself to push through and “get on with it.”
I do not remember saying goodbye to my stepfather. I do remember the overpowering feeling of helplessness, and my resignation that he was going to die. I had no illusions of American might; I knew his ship would be helpless against a barrage of low flying anti-ship Silkworm missiles; these weapons honed in on radar – the eyes of a naval vessel.
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In ten days, my stepfather’s ship, the USS Guadalcanal, reached the Mediterranean. She was an amphibious assault helicopter carrier, meaning she held Marine helicopters, about 2,000 Marines, and allied support facilities. The thought when she left Norfolk was she was heading straight for the Gulf to be part of a beach strike-force. In fact, while the ship trained in Sicily to take part in Operation Desert, Saddam Hussein’s forces were in disarray, and her aircraft were not needed in the Gulf. The air assault on Baghdad I saw on January 16 was a precursor to over a month of the relentless bombing; every day, we learned of the decimation of cities, towns, and garrisons by Coalition aircraft – the euphemism for this activity was “softening the enemy.” The ground war began on February 24 and lasted 100 hours, with the Coalition Forces sweeping from Saudi Arabia into the Iraqi desert and liberating Kuwait. For the USS Guadalcanal, there was no amphibious assault. In March, she moored off Iskenderun, Turkey and took part in Operation Provide Comfort – this was a humanitarian effort to airlift food and cargo to starving Iraqis and Kurds whose settlements and infrastructure were destroyed by either the Coalition or the retreating Iraqi military. The newspapers told us desperate populations are often worse than the military when an occupying force comes in, and this was the reason for America’s munificence.
I followed the war, ceasefire, and the problems that wracked the region. I read as much as I could about current events and the history behind the strife the United States inserted itself into – it was not as simple as protecting oil. I learned of the problems in Cyprus between Greece and Turkey; the sectarian violence in Lebanon; how Britain and France dismembered the old Ottoman Empire and carved out countries with no regard to the people in them; and the Israeli occupation of Egyptian, Jordanian, and Lebanese territory and how this was anathema to peace in the region. I learned of the good work the United States was doing: in keeping the peace on Sinai as it had for a decade. I celebrated the United Nations’ work and its observer force keeping the peace and defusing the Iraqi machine. For a time, I wished to study at the American University in Cairo to learn Arabic and understand the problems and help with solutions in the Middle East. I was encouraged as I followed my stepfather’s travels in the region and as small packages drifted back to us stateside.
Just before the school year began, my stepfather’s ship returned. As a means for the sailors’ children to understand what their parents did aboard ship, we were invited for a “tiger cruise.” It is one of my fondest memories as a Navy kid. We embarked at Morehead City for a trip to Norfolk. For a couple of days, we slept and ate as sailors ate; we came to know the deprivations of military life, but we also saw the crew at work and play. I was able to see helicopters come and go, and weapons practice up close. After a ceremony in the cavernous hangar deck where the Captain gave out Surface Warfare Officer pins to junior officers, my stepfather and a few crew members hauled a drum-kit, amplifiers, and electric guitars from places unknown and rocked-out playing classic rock songs like Johnny B. Good before the entire ship – my stepfather was on lead guitar. With a few dollars earned from mowing lawns, I went to the slop chest. We kids could buy souvenir matchbooks and ribbons if we wanted. I decided to buy a newly created medal for award to service members who participated in the Gulf War and various operations around it, the Southwest Asia Service Medal, and the gedunk medal for merely being in the service at the time, National Defense Medal. Back in his stateroom, my stepfather gave me a Navy Good Conduct Medal for “holding down the fort” in his absence (the latter was loaned to his brother for a job interview, and I never saw it again).
My mother’s parents sent me some more memorabilia for Christmas – a Saddam Hussein banknote and some leaflets dropped on Iraqi soldiers before and during the Coalition’s invasion. These were given to my grandfather by a co-worker who was contracting in the region. These were the closest tangible things to the Gulf War I had, and I loved them. I kept them on my dresser in a small display case along with the medals I had gotten on the USS Guadalcanal and some Iraqi coins sent to me from my father – he incidentally worked in the region in the oil business and I followed his travels with rapt attention growing up, too. These became my prized souvenirs and bookended the Gulf War for me.
As the months went by, the peace in the region was uneasy and life in my Navy town returned to its mundane torpor. All faded and was soon forgotten as ships and cruises went on as before. I still held on to my collection, although it ended up in a cigar box as I went on the college and grad school. I have looked at the collection from time to time, but never really paid it much attention until now, thirty years later.
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This small collection has been in my possession for the greater part of thirty years – as long as the United States’ adventures in the Middle East. It has very little monetary value; I reflect on the objects since they are touchstones of another time.
National Defense Service Medal
The National Defense Service Medal (NDSM) is a service award of the United States Armed Forces established by President Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1953 for award during periods of armed conflict national emergency; it was akin to a blanket campaign medal and appeared with no guiding rationale. Prior to the first Gulf War, it was awarded to services members during the Korean War, and for enlistment during the Vietnam War. Prior to the ground offensive, the NDSM was again authorized by a memorandum, dated 20 February 1991, from Secretary of Defense Richard Cheney for active service on or after 2 August 1990 with no termination date established; although the term was later defined as to November 30, 1995. For sailors who served in Vietnam some seventeen years prior, they could place a bronze star on the medal’s ribbon. When I saw my stepfather’s ribbon rack, the first thing I noticed was the addition of a bronze star. It is called a gedunk medal: one that is less than a participation trophy and only serves to provides a splash to the fruit salad on one’s chest.
On the medal’s obverse is the eagle, the National emblem of the United States, and the reverse has a stylized shield of the Coat of Arms of the United States; together they signify the defense of the United States. The combination of oak and palm leaves signifies strength and preparedness. The ribbon has no particular significance, although the U.S. Marines had a colorful ditty about what the colors represented when the medals were handed out in boot camp:
Red is for the blood I didn’t shed, white is for the skies I’ve never flown, blue is for the seas I’ve never sailed, and yellow is the reason why.
Southwest Asia Service Medal
Growing up, I was attuned to ribbons on everyone’s uniform -they were colorful professional résumés. My stepfathers’ were a bit jarring – he was a junior officer in his thirties, and had an enlisted Good Conduct ribbon with three bronze stars; each star represented four years past the orignial award. He was a mustang – an officer with an enlisted ethic; or more precisely – a Limited Duty Officer. On the Tiger Cruise I noticed a new ribbon I’d never seen before, one with red, white, and blue bands with sand-colored swatches surrounding a central black band. This, I soon learned, was the newly-created Southwest Asia Service Medal or SWASM for short.
In October 1990, the Deputy Director of Personnel and Administrative Services, Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD), requested that The Institute of Heraldry provide proposed designs of a service medal for Southwest Asia. Proposed medal designs were forwarded to OSD on 30 October 1990. A proposed Executive Order to authorize the service medal was staffed to the Services, by OSD, on 11 February 1991. President Bush established the Southwest Asia Service Medal by Executive Order 12754, dated 12 March 1991.
As early as October 1990, several months before the Coalition’s offensive, the Office of the Secretary of Defense requested the Army’s The Institute of Heraldry (TIOH) design a medal. The medal selected was designed by Miss Nadine Russell, a supervisor at TIOH. Its design was reminiscent of Second World War campaign medals: vehicles of war and depictions of theaters of battle; it depicts a tank, armored personnel, carrier, helicopter, ship, and an aircraft with a desert and seascape. The reverse design symbolizes “military might and preparedness in defense of peace.” The sand colored ribbon with red, white, blue, green and black stripes represent the national colors of the United States and the coalition members.
It was awarded for three campaigns: “Defense of Saudi Arabia” or “Operation Desert Shield” for the period 2 August 1990 through 16 January 1991; “Liberation and Defense of Kuwait” or “Operation Desert Storm” for the period 17 January 1991 through 11 April 1991; and “Southwest Asian Cease-Fire” for the period 12 April 1991 through 30 November 1995. If a service member participated in two campaigns, they would receive one bronze stare; two for three. Since the USS Guadalcanal was called up for service and had its helicopter crews operate in Northern Iraq after the cease-fire, the sailors and marines received no stars.
Safe Passage Leaflet & 25 Dinar Banknote
Fatalities were prevented by the mass-surrender of many Iraqi military units. The United States dropped leaflets over the enemy stating they were planning on bombing their positions the following day along with safe-passage leaflets such as this one.
The translation reads:
If you want to save yourself comply with the following:
. Remove the magazine from your weapon.
. Carry the weapon upon your left shoulder, pointing the muzzle downward.
. When approaching our location, do so slowly, any person ahead of the group raises this leaflet above his head.
. This will affirm your desire for safety.
. You will be transferred into the hands of your Arab brothers as soon as possible. Hello and Welcome.
After the invasion, the once prosperous Iraq was propelled into an economic free-fall. Saddam notes were popular bring-backs and commanded a premium for a short period after the war. PsyOps groups dropped forged notes with messages of despair and warning on the reverse.
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As the years went by, I added a couple of medals to the collection as markers of the conflict and its aftermath:
Humanitarian medal
The USS Guadalcanal was atwitter on the Tiger Cruise about the skipper applying for the medal given the ship’s part it played in Operation Provide Comfort. The DoD denied the application for the ship, instead, it went to the Marine helicopter squadrons stationed on the ship at the time; one – the Black Knights (HMM-264) – flew over 1,000 hours and delivered 90,000 pounds of relief supplies. For the sailors, however, this is the medal not awarded.
Kuwait Liberation Medal (Saudi Arabia) & Kuwait Liberation Medal (Kuwait)
Along with the gedunk medal and various service ribbons for being deployed overseas, service members found themselves often more decorated in the six weeks of Operation Desert Storm than draftees in the Vietnam War. Among their chest fruit salad, they received Kuwait Liberation Medals in 1995 or thereabouts.
United Nations Iraq/Kuwait Observer Mission (UNIKOM) Medal
After the cessation of hostilities, the UN set up a cordon sanitaire for mine removal; later, the group monitored the cease-fire. UNIKOM spanned April 1991 through 1993.
Multinational Force and Observers Beret, Beret badge, and Medal
The Multinational Force and Observers (MFO) was formed by the United States to enforce the Egypt-Israel peace treaty of 1979 at the invitation of both Egypt and Israel. They are presently stationed in the Sinai Peninsula (hence the S of the olive branch and stylized dove). They came to be despite a failed United Nations resolution to monitor the peace – the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics vetoed the motion at the behest of Syria. So the troops donned a terra-cotta red beret to distinguish themselves from the blue berets of the United Nations Peacekeeping Force. Despite the normalization of relations between Egypt and Israel over the decades, theirs has been an uneasy peace, and the MFO remains at the request of both parties. When I learned about them at the time of the Gulf War, I was impressed with how nations worked together to keep the peace in such a volatile place. I still find it interesting and fascinating legacy of the Carter administration.
As for the symbolism on the medal, the olive branches and dove relate to the Multinational Force and Observers’ peaceful mission and the hope of peace throughout the world. The S-shaped configuration refers to the Sinai Peninsula as the place of service. The ribbon colors have no significance; the colors of the orange and green bands are reversed for civilian awardees.