Purple Heart

Throughout Purple Heart, characters grapple with the question of what exactly the U.S. troops are doing in Iraq—are they here to help the Iraqi people, and if so, are they succeeding? Before Ali’s death, Matt believes that “we’re here to help these people” (48) and that he’s being a “good guy” (190) by playing soccer with the local kids. Other soldiers, like Charlene, insist that getting too close to the Iraqis can only lead to trouble. When Ali steals Matt’s sunglasses, Charlene says: “[T]hat’s what happens when you try to make friends with these people” (30). Charlene unwittingly predicts the much more serious consequence of “making friends,” as Ali is killed, and subsequently, Matt has to live with the guilt of knowing he’s at least partially responsible.

In addition to the larger tragedy of Ali’s death, other examples of the negative impact of the U.S. presence in Iraq are evident throughout the novel. Wolf perhaps puts it best when he says, “I hate how we came over here to help these people and instead we’re killing them” (115). The fact that insurgents “hide behind […] and use civilians” (102), as they did with Ali, only adds to the danger for Iraqi citizens. Even the drainage pipe Ali lives in is something the Americans brought to rebuild Iraq—"except [they] never did” (70). The aspects of American culture the troops bring with them have sometimes questionable consequences, as Matt watches “skinny, barefoot” kids singing rap lyrics like “I’ll take you to the candy shop…” (28). As Justin puts it, the troops are “bringing these people America” (28)—but they’re not giving the Iraqis what they truly need.

At the end of the novel, Matt accepts that there’s no simple answer to the question of whether U.S. soldiers are helping, or should even try to help, the Iraqis. Remembering Wolf’s statement that the troops are “here to help these people” (115), and Charlene’s belief that getting involved with the locals only leads to trouble, Matt finally concludes that “they were both right” (194).

Much of Purple Heart is concerned with Matt’s attempt to regain his memory after a traumatic brain injury; while Matt’s brain is physically damaged when he’s hit by a rocket-propelled grenade, his psychological trauma seems to have a greater impact on his inability to remember what happened to him. Throughout the novel, Matt, unable to recall—or perhaps, subconsciously, unwilling to recall—the complete incident, replays the few images he does remember almost obsessively through his mind: a “candy wrapper flutter[ing] from a coil of razor wire” (67); a stray dog crossing the street, “oblivious to the battle around him” (67); a child lifted into the “crayon-blue sky” (4). These images cause significant distress to Matt, especially as he becomes more convinced that he killed Ali. At one point, he desperately tries “to will himself to forget. To turn it off” (162). On patrol, he sees Ali’s face “in every kid on the street” (147). Even though he struggles to remember details, Matt’s brain won’t allow him to forget, or even take a break from, the tragedy he’s taken part in.

The officer who evaluates Matt tells him that “when something is too painful to process […] your mind has a way of burying it” (110). She explains that this form of self-protection affects many soldiers, and that they all “struggle with their conscience” (114) after committing wartime acts of violence. A young assistant Matt connects with, Pete, similarly recounts the story of an Iraqi who couldn’t remember the explosion that nearly kills him—it was “too much for the brain to handle” (81). The struggle to remember becomes not only a plot element or a personal conflict for Matt, but a larger representation of how war affects soldiers. Many soldiers have committed or witnessed acts so terrible, their brains literally shut them out. Yet this defense mechanism can’t shield soldiers from post-traumatic stress completely—as Meaghan says, the disturbing emotions come out through “flashbacks” and “nightmares” (70), distressing the soldiers long after the initial trauma has passed.