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How the Moultons Made Peace with the War
Seth Moulton's G.I. Joe looks, Harvard degree, and courageous Marine service would make most parents proud. His own needed a little help coming to terms with the warrior they've raised.
By Phyllis Karas
When Marine Captain Seth Moulton redeployed to Iraq last July, he was accompanied to the airport by the usual retinue of family and friends, as well as a cameraman from ABC News. It was the fourth tour of duty for Seth, who since joining the military six years earlier had earned heady renown. The appeal was not hard to grasp: Six feet tall with sandy-brown hair, blue eyes, and a sharp, square jaw, the 29-year-old was articulate, thoughtful, and handsome. As a Marblehead native and Harvard man (by way of Phillips Andover), he'd taken an unexpected path for someone with his background. After deciding to enlist in May 2001—weeks before graduating, and four months before the terrorist attacks of September 11—he'd gone on to volunteer for two more tours, deferring his acceptance to a graduate program in the process. During his initial deployment, he'd led one of the first platoons into Baghdad, and shortly before the statue of Saddam Hussein was toppled in that city's central square, he was interviewed live on CNN. More media attention followed: a segment on MSNBC, a profile and repeated interviews on NPR, multiple articles in the Globe, an appearance in the award-winning documentary No End in Sight. Along the way, he'd caught the eye of no less than General David Petraeus, commander of U.S. forces in Iraq. On that summer day, Seth was going back to that country—at the general's personal behest—to work with tribal leaders in the southern provinces.
And there was an additional twist to the Seth Moulton Story, the one the cameraman was there to document. It involved Seth's former interpreter, Mohammed Harba, with whom he'd formed a remarkable friendship. They'd met in the spring of 2003, when Mohammed, then a 23-year-old college student from the southern Iraqi town of Hillah, was assigned by the Marines to serve as Seth's translator. Together, the two went on to launch a twice-weekly television show providing candid assessments of conditions in the area. Moulton and Mohammed was an immediate hit with local Iraqis and U.S. forces, and the cohosts became minor sensations. But after three months, Seth's unit moved on and the show ended. The pair, however, stayed in touch.
In 2005, Mohammed, who has black hair and startling green eyes, won a Fulbright scholarship to study in the U.S. Before he graduated in May 2007, he was warned by his family not to return home: For having worked so closely and visibly with coalition forces, he faced near-certain death by insurgents. He petitioned for asylum, and while he waited for a decision, Seth invited him to move in with his parents on the North Shore. Now Seth was leaving Mohammed behind, and ABC wanted to capture their poignant goodbye.
When the clip aired, it closed with a shot of Seth waving farewell to his family, followed by one of his parents, Tom, 61, and Lynn, 59, reacting as you might expect in the situation, clutching each other, barely suppressing sobs. Left unrecorded by ABC, however, was a conversation Lynn had had with Jennifer Rikoski, a family friend and lawyer representing Mohammed in his asylum case. She had accompanied the Moulton family to the airport, and as Seth walked toward the security gate, she watched Lynn's face crumble. Rikoski searched for the right words to comfort Lynn, something to point out Seth's selflessness and sense of duty, to evoke the pride she must be feeling for her son.
"It's hard when your kids grow up to be the people you raised them to be," Rikoski said.
Lynn Moulton looked Rikoski directly in the eye.
"Jenny," she said, "I never raised my son to be a Marine."
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Posted by | Feb. 15, 2008 at 8:27 PM
Posted by | Feb. 18, 2008 at 1:35 PM