BRANCACCIO: Welcome to NOW.
As the war in Iraq rages on, one of the consequences that's received little press attention, is the number of soldiers who desert. It's a life-changing decision: a deserter faces court-martial and prison. Reasons cited by deserters range from opposition to the war to health problems. Since the run up to the Iraq war there have been more than 20,000 deserters from the US military. Producers Mona Iskander, Brian Epstein, and senior correspondent Maria Hinojosa have our report.
AGUAYO: I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to do good things for my country. And I wanted it to open opportunities for me. I saw it as a way for myself to improve in my life.
HINOJOSA: Back in 2003 Agustin Aguayo decided to join the army. He had recently become an American citizen and he wanted to serve.
BURMEISTER: This country, the US, that I'm a citizen of—I thought has been wonderful to my family. This is—this is my opportunity to give back.
HINOJOSA: Twenty-three year old James Burmeister joined the army after talking to a recruiter about the benefits of a military career.
BURMEISTER: I've always wanted to do something that would—that would be a big help. And so it seemed like the perfect thing.
HINOJOSA: Both Agustin and James signed up for the army wanting to defend their country. But in time both came to believe they could no longer serve as soldiers. Each took a very different path.
When Agustin first signed up, he was going to college during the day and working at night to support his wife and twin girls. He saw the army as an opportunity for a more stable life.
AGUAYO: My wife, I spoke to her right after I—I made my commitment. She was very worried. She—she said, "Well, what—what if you don't like it?" And I thought that can't happen.
HINOJOSA: In 2004 Agustin went to Iraq for a year long tour of duty as a medic. But only weeks after he arrived, his thoughts about war began to change. And then there was that image he couldn't get out of his head... an Iraqi man killed when his car pulled too close to a convoy.
AGUAYO: We're, unfortunately, hurting people that was in the wrong place in the wrong time. This individual, obviously, had no intention of harming us. There was nothing in his vehicle that was found. Yet, someone doesn't have a father. So that's—that's—that's a memory that really stuck with me.
HINOJOSA: Incidents like that started to affect Agustin's perceptions of war. He felt that even as a medic, there was little he could do to help.
AGUAYO: I remember my platoon Sergeant once told me, "You know, you have to understand that sometimes the best medicine are bullets, firepower." So I thought, "No—how can that be? How can—how can we see things that way?"
HINOJOSA: Day after day the devastation gnawed at Agustin. In fact, Agustin had come to believe that war and violence of any kind were the wrong ways to resolve conflict. So while he was in Iraq he became one of 405 service members since 2002 to apply for Conscientious Objector status.
A Conscientious Objector, they're called CO's in the military, is someone, who for religious or moral reasons, refuses to bear arms. One hundred and seventy nine service members have been granted co status.
Agustin imagines what some people might think... how could he refuse to fight in a war he had willingly signed up for?
AGUAYO: I mean I can understand someone saying, "But you knew when you signed up, that war is about people dying." Living it is—is—I—I see things differently having lived though the experience.
HINOJOSA: Agustin had become convinced the war in Iraq was immoral. And the war was escalating. In his same unit, another soldier, James Burmeister, was in the thick of the fight. As a cavalry scout, he went on as many as three missions a day.
BURMEISTER: It was a really confusing place because, you know, we would be helping a certain family, a certain group of people and they would love us. And the next day, we did something wrong and they—you know, they—they would hate us.
HINOJOSA: During his many missions, James was caught in three road-side bombings... And amazingly, a fellow soldier caught one of the explosions on camera.
BURMEISTER: We were in a five humvee set. Rolling down a—down a main street in Baghdad in our sector.
I'm the gunner on top of this humvee...
Just a big bomb goes off. And it's so fast, you don't—you don't see the bomb. You're scared. You're checking your body parts to see if you're missing anything.
A few days after that, I had actually passed out in my room. Passed out, just hit the floor.
HINOJOSA: James says that was the first sign of his post traumatic stress disorder. He says doctors thought he also may have sustained a traumatic brain injury, so he was sent to Germany on medical leave.
Two months later, while still on medication, he was ordered back to Iraq.
BURMEISTER: They were desperate for people to get back there. They just needed people in Baghdad. They just need bodies to man the guns and the equipment.
HINOJOSA: James saw only two options: either go back to Iraq...or go AWOL, Absent Without Leave, a crime punishable by jail time and even court-martial.
BURMEISTER: I got back home—talked to my wife. You know, I said, "I think I'm gonna leave." It was like a 15 minute decision that I'm—I'm gonna leave—I'm gonna leave the Army.
HINOJOSA: On May 4th of this year James fled to Canada, a familiar haven for over 55,000 Americans during the Vietnam War. But times have changed and Canadian immigration laws are much stricter now. When James arrived in Ottawa he realized his only viable option to legally stay in Canada was to apply for refugee status.
We were with him and his family the day they put in their application.
BURMEISTER: Today I am here at the immigration office to file my refugee claim, and starting the whole process today and hope everything goes well.
HINOJOSA: Up until now James and his family had been living underground.
During this war about 300 U.S. soldiers are known to have fled to Canada and around 50 have applied for refugee status. None to this day have been granted but no one has been sent home either. They, along with James, wait to see if Canada will take them in permanently.
His fellow soldier, Agustin Aguayo, took a different route. He brought his case directly to the army to be recognized as a conscientious objector. He was quickly denied, so he served out his 12 month tour. Once he returned to his home base in Germany, the army called him back for a second tour.
AGUAYO: After much reflection I knew deep within me I could never go back.
HINOJOSA: So he refused to deploy, but unlike James, Agustin chose not to run. His wife videotaped him right before he turned himself in to the military police in Germany.
AGUAYO: I'm about to turn myself in to the MP's. It's 8:32, and I don't know what's gonna happen.
HINOJOSA: He also sends a message to his twin daughters, Raquel and Becky...
AGUAYO: You guys take care of each other take care of yourselves, be nice to your mommy, I'll be fine and we'll be together again.
HINOJOSA: Agustin thought he'd be put in prison but instead the army told him he'd be on the next flight back to Iraq. So he made the desperate decision to go AWOL. Agustin escaped by jumping out of a window, fleeing from Germany to Mexico, and finally arriving in California. There he decided to turn himself in yet again.
AGUAYO: Because I thought that eventually they would say, "Yes, he is a conscientious objector," that's why I—I was wi—I was willing to put myself through all this—through this mess.
HINOJOSA: This time the army did put Agustin in prison... for seven months. He was ultimately court marshaled and received a bad conduct discharge.
As for James, with assistance from the War Resistors' Support Campaign in Canada, he and his family are renting an apartment in Ottawa. While James waits for a hearing on his refugee claim, it's now been over thirty days since he went AWOL. He is officially a deserter. In fact, since the run up to the war, over 20,000 service members have been classified as deserters. For James, the prospect that he may have to return to the United States and face jail time looms large.
BERMEISTER: It's really hard to look into the future, you know, to the next five or ten years. It just depends on what happens now. You know, it's—if—if I'm gonna be able to stay in Canada or not, if I'm gonna have to turn myself in or not. It's—it's hard to tell.
HINOJOSA: Back in the United States, Agustin and his family moved to Palmdale, California after he got out of military prison. He's struggling to rebuild his life. Until he gets a job, the family depends on support from relatives. His military career, ending in disgrace, Agustin has now dedicated himself to fighting the army in civil court. He wants to be recognized as a conscientious objector to clear his name and his record. So far he's been unsuccessful. His last hope is the Supreme Court.
AGUAYO: I think some would say, "He's the worse guy alive. He should be shot." And others would say, "I'm proud of him." I think some would say, "You don't know him. So, don't judge him."
