FINDING ONE'S ASS IN IRAQ

One doesn't need to be stupid, uneducated, or even patriotic to find one's sorry ass on the ground in Iraq. It helps to be young, or poor, or a gun-lover.

For those few who get a thrill out of killing things, any war is a wonderful opportunity to make things dead. This isn't about them.

If one doesn't want to find one's sorry ass in Iraq, it helps to read books by former generals, read respected periodicals, or be the child of a Republican Congressman/woman.

Of course, many Top Gunners, like our president, are only interested in piloting cool jets (or helicopters, submarines and tanks), preferably stateside. They fly the friendly skies with big toys for big boys and girls: toys not available to civilians, with guns attached. But generally speaking, they are not the ones who end up on the streets of Fallujah.

Early in my career, after a bout with unemployment, I found myself at a company in Stamford that produced training programs for ground troops. Though the Vietnam War was careening out of control, my high lottery number (based on birth date) had exempted me from the draft. I worked in a bullpen full of artists creating comic books teaching young GI's the art of firefights, hand-to-hand combat, and securing enemy-free zones.

In the comic books the soldier super-heroes were always square-jawed, the uniforms --always crisp, and the carnage -- always out of sight; even in the heat of battle. Any drawings falling short of this, were sent to the recycle bin.

Why comic books? Because this was the medium the young recruits were accustomed to reading. Supervisors would lean over our shoulders to make sure the cartoons were realistic enough to showcase the cool weaponry, but not so realistic as to depict the carnage. The idea was to appeal to the young, idealistic mind looking for excitement. These child-soldiers responded to the comics.

I quit after a month. It was too depressing and my illustrations were too expressive. The brass didn't want to see my version of Picasso's "Guernica" in their comic book training programs. They were so happy to see me leave, they gave me six-weeks severance.

As Karl Rove makes political hay over John Kerry's careless (and misconstrued) remark about education and war, we must not lose sight of the fact that, while Mr. Kerry botched a joke, Mr. Bush has botched a war. And the face of that war is not the square-jawed superhero soldier in military comic books but, all too often, the poor kid looking to rise above his or her circumstances.