I took this picture during my first time in Iraq, 20 years ago. It was the first entry in a body of work about the US post-9/11, at home and at war, which has occupied a good chunk of my professional life for the last two decades. I had turned 25 the week before and it was a formative journey on a personal level. It was the first time I experienced war, and my understanding of my country and its relationship to the world developed in the crucible of this extremely violent situation, which was descending into civil war while I was there.
I had been embedded in Iraq with the US military for six weeks or so at this point, and had taken some good pictures. But this one was different and it still means something to me today. It was the first I had taken that wasn’t overtly channelling the history of war photography – which largely focusses on violence, horror and victims. Those are important things to show, but I wanted to understand this particular conflict, and how my position as an American of the same generation as those fighting could help me interpret it for the public. I guess the image crystallised something I had seen – this vast machine of military might mobilised in the Middle East; the momentum of all these young men with powerful weapons patrolling cities in search of people identified as enemies of America, enemies of democracy.
