by Dave Lee

Six weeks into my third year of law school I was activated for deployment to Iraq. For the previous four years I had been a full-time student, and part-time member of the US Marine Corps Reserve, and I always knew my time to serve overseas would come. In just a few short days, I quickly switched gears from being a law student only nine months from graduation and the bar exam, to being a Marine only a few months from deployment. One moment I was memorizing the standards of scrutiny under the due process clause, the next moment I was studying effective methods of air-based fire support and advanced convoy tactics for IED-laden highways.

My unit was the 1st Air-Naval Gunfire Liaison Company (ANGLICO) based out of Camp Pendleton. The Marines of ANGLICO hold a special mission and a special skill set, and we consider ourselves elite. While American infantry generally bear the ability to call for their own fire support from American aircraft, non-U.S. forces do not. It is the responsibility of ANGLICO to provide that support to our allied forces. To that end, ANGLICO units typically break up into teams of four or five Marines and embed themselves with a foreign unit, wherever that may be.

For seven months, my team and I lived on an isolated Iraqi army base in the open, arid farming areas northeast of Fallujah and west of Baghdad. Between my team of five and a small team of 20 advisors, we were two dozen Marines living alone among 300 Iraqi soldiers. We ate what they ate, trained when they trained, and worked when they worked. Each day, as the temperatures hovered around 125 degrees Fahrenheit, we accompanied the soldiers as they operated through the countryside and townships, sweeping the landscape for weapons caches and arresting those suspected of insurgency activity. Overall, my team remained always ready to call in air support whenever the soldiers needed it, whether that need was for planes to conduct reconnaissance, helicopters to provide a medevac, or anyone who could lend a little ordnance. It was hard work in a hard place, and we did it well.

On the morning of June 26, 2008 (I will forever remember the date), we awoke to alarm bells. We quickly threw on our gear, scrambled to our vehicles, and fell into a convoy. As we stormed off the outpost, we received a quick brief over the radio: something had happened during a city council meeting in a nearby town, and we were the closest Iraqi army brigade capable of responding. Our convoy raced to the town, all the way dodging scattered herds of sheep and pull carts filled with grass. As we approached the town center, it became apparent that utter chaos had set in, and we worked with other responding units to quickly set up security on the city block. In short time we learned what had happened: a fanatic dressed in an Iraqi police officer’s uniform had walked into the city council meeting with a bomb strapped to his chest. When he detonated himself, he took 25 people with him, including three Marines and twenty sheikhs and other tribal leaders. I later learned that my team was meant to attend the meeting as an escort for an Iraqi colonel, and our plans only changed when the colonel unexpectedly went out of town the previous day.

The events of June 26th were a tragedy for more reasons than the lives that were lost. The primary purpose of the city council meeting was to bring the local sheikhs together to plan a new school and a medical clinic for the town. Only a year or so into the “troop surge,” we had finally won over the reticent sheikhs and other community leaders of central Iraq. They convened on June 26th to build a better Iraq, and they lost their lives for their efforts.

For obvious and understandable reasons, a lot of guys struggle with how to feel about their time overseas. For me, as I returned home to my wife, demobilized, and restarted my third year of law school, I felt obligated to carry with me some lesson that I could parlay toward my nascent legal career. The lesson that I found, simply stated, is that the right thing must always be done, regardless of the consequences. Though it rings of cliché, it bears true meaning to me. As Marines, my team and I were called to serve a cause greater than ourselves, and to do so honorably, regardless of how we felt about it. As community and military leaders, the men and women who perished on June 26th were committed to building a better future for the Iraqi people, regardless of the personal risks. And as attorneys, we are called to zealously advocate for our clients, regardless of our personal convictions, and to perform our duties responsibly and ethically, regardless of the consequences. It’s a simple lesson that I don’t intend to quickly forget.

David Lee is the law clerk to the Honorable Robert N. Kwan, United States Bankruptcy Judge, for the 2010-2011 term and can be reached at davelee100@gmail.com.