And it only got worse. He and his National Guard unit were awakened early one morning in April 2003 and were shipped to Iraq. When Mejia was sent across the ocean to fight in the war, his life had changed abruptly. Until that point, he said, he was living in a “pretty little bubble.”

“I had an apartment by the beach, I was working as a volunteer counselor, and I was working toward my goal of a Ph.D. in psychology,” Mejia said.

Nine years earlier, in 1994, when Mejia had first joined the U.S. Army, he said that he had no direction in his life. He had been born in the United States to Nicaraguan parents. He spent his childhood in both the United States and in Costa Rica. He said that, in both cultures, he felt like a “social reject.”

In the military, Mejia said, he found the community and friends that he said that lacked while growing up. “It’s a great option for lost people.” Toward the end of his three years of active duty, Mejia was named an infantry squad leader, with the rank of staff sergeant. After leaving active duty, Mejia, who had five years to serve in the Inactive Ready Reserve, joined the National Guard. With the financial assistance that he received from the military for a college education, Mejia enrolled in the University of Miami.

Mejia’s wartime duty changed his view of the world, he said. When he arrived in Iraq, he quickly realized that National Guard troops were seen as the “unwanted children of the military. We had no bulletproof vests. We used old flak vests to line vehicles. We had to drive around to other units to beg for food, water, and other things.”

Mejia said that, when he arrived in Iraq, he was assigned to a detention center near Baghdad, where “enemy combatants” were being held. He said that he observed unidentified individuals interrogating the detainees. The soldiers were to “soften the detainees up for interrogation.” The hooded and tied detainees were subjected to sleep deprivation and were exposed to thunderous noises. They were also the victims of terrifying mock executions.

After a short amount of time, the “alleged enemy combatants were transferred to another facility,” Mejia said.

By the third week of May, Mejia’s unit was moved to Ar Ramadi, a city in the Sunni Triangle. The city boasted two presidential palaces and a statue of Saddam Hussein brandishing a sword.

That sword became a symbol of the military leadership’s goals in that area. Mejia said that the unit was informed that they were not returning to the United States without the Combat Infantry Badge, considered to be a “glorious award for infantry soldiers.” To win it, it is necessary for the soldiers to fire their weapons in a combat situation.

“All rules went out the window,” Mejia said. “We exposed ourselves to the insurgency and encouraged firefights.”

Being entrusted with missions that conflicted with his beliefs started Mejia on the path to pacifism. He talked about being required to search entire neighborhoods, raid homes, and detain people whom he “didn’t think were guilty of anything.” On the other hand, Mejia said that, on squad level missions, “I always did my best not to expose the soldiers in my squad to unnecessary danger and to treat the people of Iraq with respect.”

Eventually, however, the unit to which Mejia belonged did win the Combat Infantry Badge.

Life in Iraq became increasingly precarious. “I found myself in a place where every moment in my life could be my last. All I cared about was surviving and seeing my daughter when I came home. There were bombs going off every day. They were called ‘Improvised Explosive Devises’ or IEDs.” The soldiers lived in a constant state of fear, never knowing if a piece of trash sitting in the road could be the bomb that would kill them.

Living in a constant state of fear created conditions that led to the Abu Ghraib and other prisoner abuse scandals, Mejia said.

“They (military leaders) don’t have to tell somebody, ‘Here’s a manual on how to be a torturer or how to be cruel to people.’ They just have to create this scenario. You’d be surprised at what happens in that type of environment in which fear is manipulated, anger is manipulated, frustration is manipulated.

“It’s within human nature, and it’s not the result of rogue soldiers,” Mejia explained, adding that, those responsible for the violent acts still need to be held accountable for their behavior.

The longer that Mejia stayed in Iraq, the more that he felt that he, too, was become swept away in a tide of violence. “A part of you dies when you participate in killing someone. I became the abuser, and the abuse became me.

“You go with the flow because you’re afraid of being an individual. To say, ‘We shouldn’t mistreat these people,’ as simple as it sounds, is really difficult to do in an environment like that where the assumption is that they’re the enemy. If you say anything to question that, you may be seen as a traitor or unpatriotic.

After serving in Iraq for five months, Mejia came back to the United States on furlough. Mejia at last had time to think about his role in a war that he had opposed from the start. “I was alone in my room with my guilty conscience.” After a difficult process of discernment and counseling, Mejia decided to apply for conscientious objector status. He became the first combat veteran to publicly refuse to go back to war. Mejia said that, to remind himself of his commitment to peace, he carried a St. Francis medallion and a small cloth that had been stained with the blood of Archbishop Oscar Romero, who was assassinated in El Salvador in 1980. Shortly before he surrendered to the military, he held a press conference to explain his decision not to complete his tour of duty in Iraq. Organizations that offered him support included Military Families Speak Out and Veterans for Peace. Mejia’s mother, Maritza Castillo, who protested the war from the start, has been one of his strongest supporters, he said.

“I want to be an instrument of peace,” Mejia said, echoing the words of St. Francis of Assisi. Instead the U.S. government had turned him into an “instrument of violence” to fight in an “oil driven” war.

On March 15, 2004, Mejia surrendered to the military police. Two months later, he was convicted after a three-day trial before a special court martial. His penalty was forfeiture of two-thirds of his pay, demotion to private, and twelve months of military confinement in Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

Amnesty International adopted Mejia as a “prisoner of conscience.” He received many letters and much support while he was in prison, he said. He was released in February 2005. He still has pending appeals and has not yet been discharged from the military.

Since his release, Mejia has traveled around the country, talking about his experiences and speaking out against the war. He also joined Iraq Veterans Against the War, a group whose membership is open to all veterans who were in the military after 9/11.

Speaking out against the war has been therapeutic, Mejia said. He added that his is not bitter about anything that has happened to him.

“I wouldn’t say that I have very many regrets. I see it as a life-changing experience with a purpose. Everything starts with you. If you want to see a peaceful world, you have to have peace within you. If you don’t want people to hate, you can’t hate people. If you want to love people, you have to love yourself. You have to learn to forgive yourself before you can learn to forgive other people. Having bitterness is not conducive of anything good. So I make an effort not to have regrets but to learn from mistakes, to learn from the horror of war, move on and try to do something good with my experience.”

Mejia is writing a book about his experiences. He is also available for speaking engagements.

To find out more about Iraq Veterans Against the War, check out the organization’s website at ivaw.net. By Alice E. Gerard

Early in 2003, Camilo Mejia was looking forward to a new chapter in his life. A psychology major at the University of Miami, Mejia was ready to look ahead to a new career and to leaving the military after nine years of both active and National Guard service.

The military, however, was not ready to say goodbye to Mejia. At about the time that the Iraq war began, a “stop loss” order was put in place, preventing members of the armed forces from leaving when their contracts expired.
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