The U.S. Army does a lot right. That shouldn’t stop us from speaking out when it does wrong.
When Staff Sgt. Tom Zinkle served with the Army infantry in Iraq in 2007, he was forced to choose between the easy path or doing the right thing and facing whatever consequences might befall him.
Zinkle had served in the infantry for a tour in Afghanistan in 2004 but volunteered for a different company to ship to Iraq in 2007. Initially, Zinkle’s company was stationed in Iraq’s Anbar Province, where it provided security for U.S. soldiers who trained Iraqi police. After about four months, however, the Army made the puzzling decision to send the unit to serve as guards at a large prison in southern Iraq.
That’s when Zinkle’s troubles began.
His platoon was assigned to guard detainees in four quads, which were large pens, walled in by Hesco barriers, thick walls made of large, dirt-filled, wire-and-fabric baskets topped with razor wire. Each quad contained one tent housing about 50 detainees.
He was a compound shift leader in charge of the guards as they interacted with inmates, searched for contraband, provided food, and scheduled bathroom breaks. They also enforced discipline with uncooperative prisoners who might try to make weapons or escape.
Some men were detained because they’d killed U.S. soldiers, others perhaps because their neighbors didn’t like them and reported them as terrorists. None of this mattered to Zinkle’s unit. Briefings instructed them to act like professionals and treat all prisoners with dignity and respect. Zinkle’s third platoon’s shift ran from noon until midnight, and second platoon worked the opposite.
Second platoon soon began to make life difficult for everyone. They left meals rotting in the hot sun outside the gates in full view of the hungry prisoners, turning it back in hours later, claiming the Iraqis had declined to eat. They did the same with the all-important ice ration. Bathroom breaks were withheld, and prisoners were subjected to arbitrary commands and pepper spray for the slightest infractions. The soldiers of second platoon taunted prisoners, making their lives miserable, contrary to all instructions.
Zinkle had to stop this. At the very least, such actions infuriated detainees, making it harder to maintain order. More important, the abuse was morally wrong.
He tried to get the other platoon to correct their actions. It only placed him in conflict with them and, incredibly, with his leadership. His captain refused to make any changes based upon Zinkle’s objections. His platoon sergeant chewed him out, telling him he couldn’t get in trouble for following his commander’s policy.
Zinkle was outraged. Not long before, several junior enlisted personnel had received severe penalties for the mistreatment of detainees in the notorious Abu Ghraib scandal. The stress from waging a fight against his entire unit robbed him of sleep, and he lost about 15 pounds. He worried about a physical attack from his unit.
Zinkle read his facility rules and standard operating procedures as well as the Geneva Convention’s guidelines governing the treatment of prisoners. Second platoon’s actions violated many of the regulations. It would have been far easier for Zinkle to follow orders, stick out the length of his deployment, and go home. But it all felt utterly wrong.
Then one day, second platoon subjected a quad to pepper spray because detainees, locked in the bathroom area for about 5 hours in the 120-degree sun, attempted to make shade.
Zinkle knew he couldn’t wait. Though it might lead to a court-martial, he had to take more significant action to compel his unit to stop mistreating the prisoners.
I’ll tell you all about it next week.
Trent Reedy served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
