September
12, 2004
To
war or CanadaOne young U.S. soldier died in Iraq,By Thane Burnett
the other deserted the same unit and went north
Tested as men, they made hard choices.
One died by his, and is a hero to his country.
The other lives with his decision, and has become tolerant to the taunts of cowardice from his countrymen.
Spc. Charles E. Odums II was a tall, thin, black man from the north. A 22-year-old from Sandusky, Ohio, he quit college — where he met his young wife — and signed up with the U.S. Army. He was going to put in his four years, then become a Texas cop.
His dad and mom tried to talk him out of joining the military, wanting him instead to stay in school.
But their young man followed a sense of duty and pride. Last March, along with other members of Headquarters Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Cavalry Division, he shipped out of the base at Fort Hood, Texas, for a 13-month tour of Iraq.
He wore his uniform proudly. But his performance in the theatre of war lasted less than three months.
On May 30, when his convoy hit an improvised explosive in Baghdad, Odums was killed.
“When we knew he was going over, I tried not to dwell on anything negative,” his dad, Charles Odums Sr., said yesterday.
“He knew what was expected of him. This was something he wanted to do.”
—
It was not something Brandon Hughey wanted to do.
The tall, thin white kid from the south phoned his dad just before Headquarters Company left Fort Hood and dwelled on everything negative about the war.
He told the older Texan he wanted to desert. His father tried to talk him out of it.
The teen had pushed his superior officers to allow him to leave the military, rather than fight in Iraq.
They were unmoved by the young tank driver.
So hours before Headquarters Company — including Charles Odums — shipped out, the teenage soldier packed his clothes and PlayStation 2 into his 2000 silver Mustang and fled to the safety of Canada.
Deserting at a time of war — a crime that, in principle rather than practice, can command a death sentence — Brandon left his uniform behind. He feared officials would call him a thief.
He fuelled up on coffee and adrenaline and raced toward Indianapolis. He met up with his contact, Canadian resident and Vietnam-vet-turned-activist, Carl Rising-Moore. He guided Brandon across the Rainbow Bridge, where the former soldier has been living in the St. Catharines home of a pacifist Quaker family. In the late 1960s, their Toronto apartment was a meeting place of U.S. soldiers fleeing the war. Today the retired school teachers have given shelter, and guidance, to Brandon — lover of hip-hop and fast cars.
He and a small handful of other American deserters have grown bold on the patience and anti-war feelings of most Canadians. Here he's called a 'war resister.'
Yesterday the now introspective 19-year-old and I — on the anniversary of 9/11 — walked the casual streets of his new hometown.
He doesn't expect to ever see Texas again.
“The U.S. Army put my back up against a wall,” he explained. “The war breaks basic rules of decency.
“It goes against international law. It was my obligation to refuse to go.”
The military haircut replaced by sideburns growing out, he continued: “I don't care if it wasn't very American of me. It was the right thing to do.”
The more he learned about the action in Iraq, the more he found it crashing against his moral code.
We stop at a doughnut shop, casually passing, on the walk, several monuments to soldiers who've died in battles over more than a century of our history.
I asked him what he thinks, when he watches the war unfold from the safe distance of an armchair to a TV.
“I think of the civilians dying for no reason,” he said.
What of more than 1,000 U.S. troops like Charles Odums — whom he can't recall meeting. And the man who had to take Brandon's place to fill the ranks?
“If all your friends decide to rob a bank, what is your obligation when you won't take part? You just walk away,” he said, after a sip of water.
I asked him about “doubts.” He didn't understand the question — my Canadian pronunciation of the word confused an American ear.
Since being in Canada, he's received a lot of support. People, beyond the network of Quakers and peace activists, send him money to help his refugee claim.
But he's also gotten death threats.
“They say they'd like to put a bullet in my head,” he says. “But they're not likely to come here and do it.”
He hopes the U.S. will announce it has made a mistake in Iraq.
No ill-will held by father
No matter what happens, he wants to work here, then college. Build a life on this side of the border — even watching the hockey game last night.
“For those who don't agree with what I'm doing, I'm very sorry,” he said. “I'm glad every day of my life I made this decision.”
Charles Odums' dad holds no ill-will for the young man who wouldn't fight shoulder to shoulder beside his boy. The father understands the price of hard choices.
“(Brandon) has made choices too, and I wouldn't hold it against him,” the older man said. “But he'll have to live the rest of his life with his decision.
“At such a young age, I wonder if he truly understands what that may be like?”
©
2004 Canoe
