OPINION:
In the lexicon of American military ethos, few phrases resonate as deeply as “leave no one behind.”
This tradition has roots as far back as the Revolutionary War, with early accounts of our soldiers risking their lives to save fallen or captured comrades. But it was during World War II that this commitment was notably manifested in military doctrine, with concerted efforts to retrieve both wounded soldiers and the remains of those killed in action.
Policy followed doctrine with permutations over years and conflicts, finally leading to the establishment of the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency. The agency is tasked with providing the “fullest possible accounting for our missing personnel” from official, or sanctioned, past conflicts. Its succinct charter belies its global, herculean task.
Even as the policy of bringing service members home remains constrained and beleaguered by bureaucracy and budget shortfalls, the notion of “leave no American behind” burrowed itself into the American consciousness. It is now a fundamental principle deeply ingrained in the ethos of the United States, symbolizing the country’s commitment to its military personnel and citizens abroad.
Yet as recent events in Afghanistan, Sudan and Ukraine have underscored, this promise is being tested in ways we never anticipated, and the cost of failure is hauntingly high.
Last Friday, the R.T. Weatherman Foundation repatriated the remains of Marine Corps Capt. Grady Kurpasi — a veteran who volunteered to serve in Ukraine, where he was killed helping secure a safe passage corridor for women and children fleeing a Russian advance in Kherson.
This nine-month-long, privately funded effort culminated on a dark, rain-soaked private airfield in North Carolina, where a widow and child awaited the final return of their loved one. For too long, they lived in the shadow of uncertainty, strung between the anguish of loss and the hope of reunion. The image of them climbing into the back of the hearse to sit awhile with the flag-draped remains of their husband and father will be forever seared into memory. The condolences from our government are little more than a hastily compiled two-paragraph letter.
What ceremony and honor did exist was thanks to the Port Authority Police Department, which gathered, rank and file, to bear witness to the initial arrival of retired Capt. Kurpasi’s remains to the country he loved. No American official stood watch — a notable absence given the presence of a Ukrainian one.
It was a moment where policies and principles seemed to collide — “leave no American behind” and the administration’s abandonment of American volunteers in Ukraine even as tens of billions in weapons and budget support are delivered.
Nothing typifies this renunciation more than what feels like official silence concerning American veterans wounded or killed in Ukraine. It seems particularly hypocritical in the wake of the Discord leaks, which demonstrate U.S. troop presence in Ukraine, even if in extremely small numbers.
Whether or not one agrees with the American effort in Ukraine, the reality must be acknowledged that the United States is engaged in a proxy war — one it did not start and is unbalanced on finishing. For fear of escalation, the current administration has flip-flopped on weapons provisions and slow-rolled lethal aid in the country, eventually providing what was initially denied. It stands to reason that dedicating official resources to honorably repatriate dead and wounded Americans is a much cheaper and less contentious policy decision.
It’s also a policy position that would stand in stark contrast to Russia.
In the Western world, there is an inherent reverence for life and its inevitable partner, death. The thread of individualism underpinning Western society affirms the dignity and worth of each life. And in death, the West strives to honor that individuality, acknowledging the unique narrative of each person. Military funerals embody this solemn ritual and honor.
In Russia, life is often viewed through the lens of utility and allegiance to the state. Personal identities are frequently overshadowed by the collective, and human lives are road bumps in the pursuit of ideological objectives. The Russian dead in Ukraine are often burned and desecrated, their personal stories fading into the oblivion of unrecorded history.
These contrasting attitudes toward life and death reflect deeper societal values. They speak to the respect — or lack thereof — for individual dignity, the acknowledgment of sacrifice, and the valuation of each life.
The involvement of American veterans in the conflict in Ukraine is a testament to their enduring commitment to uphold these principles as well as freedom and self-determination. In their abandonment, we align ourselves with the Soviet style of casual disregard for our dead.
The stakes could not be higher. By recommitting to our promise to leave no one behind, we reaffirm the values that underpin our national identity — commitment, integrity and a deep-seated respect for human life.
• Meaghan Mobbs is president of the R.T. Weatherman Foundation, a private operating foundation engaged in Ukraine. She is a West Point graduate, former Army captain and Afghanistan veteran.
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