ON MAY 14, HOMELAND SECURITY SECRETARY Kristi Noem, citing “improved security” and a “stabilizing economy,” rescinded President Joe Biden’s Temporary Protective Status order providing legal residence for more than 10,000 Afghans who came to the United States after the Taliban took over their country. This decision, which will terminate their legal status in less than a month, is a betrayal not only of American values and the Afghans themselves, but also of a generation of American combat veterans. On Memorial Day, it’s important to remember not just the people who died in service of the country, but why they died. As Lincoln said on the battlefield at Gettysburg, “It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion.”

In less than a month, Afghans, many of whom fought and risked their lives to protect Americans over the course of twenty years, may be deported back to the very government that remains allied with al Qaeda. We asked for their help to hunt down the people who attacked us on September 11th, and at infinite personal risk, they gave it. Then we offered our help, giving them a safe place to live—and now we’re going back on our word.

President Donald Trump, who excited some with empty talk of returning to Bagram Airfield, has reverted to form: He understands nothing of honor, sacrifice, or courage. He speaks often of honoring America’s heroes. But he doesn’t understand duty, the commitment to a mission, a devotion to something larger than the self.

I often wish President Trump would dare to spend a day with some of our Afghan allies. Perhaps then, he would comprehend the gravity of the situation facing these people who bet everything on America. Had he spent a day with me on the National Mall with my good friend, Lt. Gen. Haibatullah Alizai, he could have seen that our Afghan allies are our friends and family. And he might have understood why it’s impossible to honor those who gave their lives for this country if you abuse and betray those who fought alongside them.

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I’VE TAKEN A FEW AFGHANS to Arlington National Cemetery before, but nobody truly grasped the weight of America’s betrayal like Gen. Alizai. He not only lost a war but lost his army and his country. Despite America’s abandonment, he, like nearly all Afghans, is grateful for his place here in America.

“I’m the lucky one,” he often reminds me.

We first met in 2014 when I was a young major advising the Afghan National Police’s Directorate of Intelligence, which Alizai’s father ran. Haibatullah was then a rising colonel working behind the scenes with his father’s advisers to hunt al Qaeda in the shadows. We met again in 2020 during America’s fateful final year of the war. We became friends as everything fell apart. As senior leaders fled the country, Haibatullah became the final commanding general of the Afghan National Army. First we tried to keep the Afghans in the fight. Then we tried to slow the collapse. Then we tried to save whoever we could—and we still are. He lives near me now—but his heart is in Afghanistan.

On a beautiful, sunny spring day in D.C., Gen. Alizai and I walked around the National Mall.

“Who would’ve thought a few years ago we would be here today,” he chuckled.

I wanted to bring him to the Vietnam War Memorial. Gen. Alizai is a student of American and military history, so it wasn’t mysterious to him why we would visit that black gash in the ground rather than the more triumphant memorials scattered around the Mall.

As we approached the Vietnam War Memorial, we discussed the parallels between the Vietnam War and the war in Afghanistan.

Many historians now view the Vietnam War as just part of a longer post-colonial conflict that involved not just the United States but France, China, the Soviet Union, and others—but which had at its heart a civil war among the Vietnamese. I fear Americans don’t realize that our war in Afghanistan was also part of a civil war among Afghans—it started after the Soviets left, it never really ended, and there are still brave Afghans fighting against the Taliban now.

Gen. Alizai saw other similarities.

“The South Vietnamese perished in re-education camps,” he said. “The same thing is happening in Afghanistan.”

We, veterans of America’s latest lost war, walked gingerly through America’s memorial to its previous lost war.

“Aren’t you guys getting a memorial?” he asked me.

“I think so.”

“That’s great, bro. I wish we could give my brothers something, anything,” He said, referring to the 70,000 Afghan National Security Force personnel who were killed during twenty years of war.

“Inshallah,” I said.

“Yes, inshallah.”

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AS WE LEFT THE MEMORIAL, an elderly, black, wheelchair-using Vietnam veteran introduced himself to us. He was a volunteer, helping tourists find their way around. He immediately spotted my veteran attire and came over to talk to us.

I introduced him to Gen. Alizai. The two quickly connected, as combat veterans tend to do, over war stories.

“General, I’m honored to have met you. Thank you for protecting us for twenty years,” said the Vietnam vet.

“Thank you for your service, too, brother,” Gen. Alizai said. Service to whom? Not to Alizai. Not to Afghanistan. No, service to the country that tried, for a time, to do so much for Alizai and Afghanistan—and for itself—and was now at least giving so many Afghans a safe home.

These two men, who had never met and served in different armies during different wars, still understood the gravity of each other’s sacrifices: the Vietnam War veteran, who fought for a country that still didn’t treat him equally despite his heroic sacrifice, and the Afghan general, who fought with a country that purported to be his ally but abandoned his country.

Despite our country’s betrayal of both men, they remain proud to have fought for and alongside this country.

LATER IN THE DAY, WE VISITED Arlington National Cemetery and immediately headed to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We quickly found a spot to observe the famous changing of the guards. The Old Guard soldiers were crisp, professional, and immaculate—a testament to the honor of being selected for one of the most prestigious posts in the U.S. armed forces.

I asked Alizai what he thought.

“I think all countries should have something similar,” he said.

“Maybe one day Afghanistan can have something similar, my friend?” I asked him.

“Inshallah.”

We walked toward the most sacred plot of land for veterans of the Global War on Terrorism: Section 60, where GWOT veterans are buried. We stopped by my friends, Capt. Jesse Melton III and Senior Airman LeeBernard Chavis, and we—a Jew and a Muslim—paid our respects to Melton and Chavis, two Christians. Our different faiths will never negate the blood, sweat, and tears we all shed.

After we paid our final respects to my friend, Gen. Alizai searched for his friend, Sgt. First Class Michael Goble. Eventually, after nearly twenty minutes of looking, he found his old friend.

“He was a good guy,” Gen. Alizai said wistfully, standing before Goble’s headstone. “We did operations together in northern Afghanistan, and then a few weeks after our final operation, he was killed.”

We both paid our respects to Gen. Alizai’s brother-in-arms. We both prayed and knelt before Goble’s grave.

“Do we have any other people to pay respects to, brother?” General Alizai asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

But as we turned the corner, I noticed new tombstones. We went to go look.

When I saw the names, my heart sank. “It’s the three from the Kabul 13.”

Gen. Alizai quickly joined me at the graves of Sgt. Nicole Gee, Staff Sgt. Ryan Cross, and Staff Sgt. Darin Hoover.

“These were the last Americans to be killed in Afghanistan,” I said. “I don’t know what for anymore, General,” I added, choking back tears.

“The Kabul 13 are our heroes, brother,” he said. “Just like all of your friends who died for us. We will not forget them. Whatever happened in Afghanistan, it wasn’t our fault. We all fought with honor.”

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NEARLY FOUR YEARS AGO, THE UNITED STATES abandoned a war that began with an attack on our cities, our government, and our way of life. In response, a generation of Americans faced repeated deployments for nearly twenty years. From Africa to the Pacific, GWOT veterans chased radical Islamic terrorists to the ends of the Earth. We proudly answered our nation’s call.

On Memorial Day, we honor those who took an oath to the Constitution, promised to give whatever was asked of them to defend it, and gave everything. We don’t honor them because they were well trained, though often they were. We don’t honor them because they were willing to kill, though they were. We don’t honor them only when they won, though often they did.

We honor them because of the bravery they showed in service of the country and the cause of freedom to which we’re all supposed to be committed.

While victory remained elusive, many veterans took pride in our efforts to rescue tens of thousands of our trusted and vetted Afghan allies. It wasn’t the American government that rescued thousands of Afghan allies from death. It was hardened combat veterans, ably assisted by civilians, who worked tirelessly to change policy or to work around it.

Our efforts and the honor that we rebuilt from the ashes of our retreat will be destroyed should President Trump initiate mass deportation efforts aimed at the very Afghans who protected America for twenty years. Whatever one thinks of America’s war in Afghanistan, our allies have earned their place among us. If it weren’t for them, more American combat veterans would be buried in Arlington, and more Gold Star families would be enduring the unimaginable today.

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