WWI
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Iraq
A f g h a ni s ta n
1914-1918
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The
PhotoS By LucIan reaD
Ann Gildroy Fox ’94 served three tours of duty in Iraq with the U.S. Marines. She inspired the Form of 2007 with this provocative speech the night before Prize Day.
alue
of LIfe
I
am humbled and honored at the opportunity to speak to you tonight on the eve of a very important transition for you and for me. I started Groton in the Second Form as a day student, and by the Fourth Form I was a full-time boarding student. I wasn’t a rich Groton kid, and I wasn’t a poor Groton kid. I came to Groton from a nearby town called Westford and was proud to be the first “Gildroy” to attend this mysterious and elite boarding school. As a result, I studied very hard but was no academic superstar, and in the Sixth Form was flatly rejected from all of the Ivys. So as that spring approached in 1994, I never would have imagined that I would find myself on top of a war-torn building in Iraq 11 years later. Tonight I would like to share with you a bit of my story. It is simply a piece of one journey, and it is only one perspective on how this place called Groton may affect your life. In January 2005 the first Iraqi national elections were scheduled for the end of the month. The media and the coalition were preparing for an expected explosion of violence on election day. As a result, for that whole month you could feel the tension as the day got closer and closer. The rifle company I worked with was actively pursuing insurgents in the area in order to create an environment of peace and stability. On this particular night, we were stretched very thin. The main body of the rifle company was committed to a mission far away from our location. We could only afford 14 Marines to guard a building of particular importance in downtown Karbala. As darkness fell around us, every Marine was focused on the plans we had set in place to guard the building, knowing there was no back-up. I set the riflemen in their positions on the roof. I walked the empty building frequently and took several trips to check on the Marines on the roof and the Iraqis at the main checkpoint in the front of the building. The rooftop was silent and the Marines were scanning their fields of fire. I knelt down and tapped on one of the Marine’s shoulders. He was not much older than any of you. “Lance Corporal, how ’ya doing out here?” “Fine, ma’am, I’m fine.” I turned to leave, and the lance corporal said, “Ma’am, can I ask you a question?” “What’s on your mind?” “I heard you got into Harvard, and that you are staying here in Iraq when we leave. Is that true?” Without wanting to know how the word of my acceptance to Harvard Business School had spread so quickly, nor of my extension in country, I simply responded, “Yes, that is correct.” He looked intently at me as I knelt by his side. “Ma’am, you can’t stay here longer now; your life is too valuable to lose.” I had to repeat the statement in my mind. What? My life is too valuable to lose? I was stunned. A Marine I barely knew, in a tense situation, was contemplating this? I tried to explain to the junior Marine that it is impossible to place a greater worth on one Marine’s life versus another. I stumbled over my words and attempted to talk about the importance of service in one’s life. Quarterly Spring 2012
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