When the reality of Iraq hits home

My nephew is in boot camp.

One month into it, I'm still having trouble getting used to the sound of those words.

My brother and I tried to talk him out of it more than a year ago at a backyard gathering in the San Francisco Bay Area. It turned into a disastrous family argument that ended in tears, with my mother traumatized and my sister (the recruit's mother) terrified.

Don't become a pawn, I told my nephew, for a president who misled us from the beginning and who will keep sacrificing lives in a vain and futile attempt to save face. The war in Iraq had been a reckless idea, I argued, and that was becoming clear even to many who once supported it.

I didn't expect him to listen to me, though. I haven't been close enough to my nephew for him to heed my advice, and for that, I felt all the more helpless and guilty.

When my sister was diagnosed with cancer, my nephew delayed enlisting. But when she was finally in remission this past spring, he joined the Marines, and his letter to the family repeated some of what he'd said that day in my parents' backyard.

"What I want for my life is to stand above the majority," he wrote. "I believe in honor, discipline and courage.... I wish to be bigger than myself, to be a part of something more -- something important and significant.... I hope that you will understand my reasons for this decision and will continue to support me."

My sister came to support her son's courage and patriotism despite her fears. But as his departure approached, both she and my mother sank into states of serious depression that required treatment.

My wife and I, as well as my sons, wrestled with our role in all of this.

What would be more irresponsible: not making a stronger effort to talk him out of it, or letting him go off on a dangerous mission without expressing our support?

My wife and I decided that it wasn't our place to argue with our nephew. Instead, we told him that although we disagreed with his logic and felt there were better ways to make a contribution and demonstrate honor and courage, we loved him and wished him well.

At 21, he was free to run his own life. And about a month ago, off he went to San Diego.

Now, with two months left in his training, I'd been hoping that the waning support for the war and the stepped-up calls for troop withdrawal would make it unlikely my nephew would ever be sent to Iraq.