Earlier this month, my wife and I stood outside the security line at Oakland International Airport and said a teary-eyed goodbye to our son as he headed to war. He is part of the "surge" in a war that a majority of Americans think we shouldn't be in.

Pvt. Wright is not yet 19, and a central theme in the national debate — support the troops, but not the war — just got personal.

Our son had many choices after high school. Joining the Army was not a last-ditch effort to straighten out his life or earn money for college. Instead, he was answering a call he had felt deeply for some time — to be a soldier, to protect America and democracy from terrorism. He was prepared to fight — and die — for our freedom.

But now our newly minted U.S. Army cavalry scout is in Kuwait awaiting deployment into Iraq any day now. As a scout, he'll be responsible for reconnaissance and will go into situations before most other soldiers. The scout's motto is: Never pull out.

That's not the way I feel about our military presence in Iraq. After four years of maintaining a troop strength of 100,000-plus soldiers, after the deaths of 3,200, the wounding of 23,000 and the spending of billions of dollars, it is clear: The best way to support our troops is for Americans to put more pressure on Congress and the president to devise a timeline for phased withdrawal.

If more Americans — including the president and those in Congress — had to make the personal sacrifice of sending a son or daughter to this war, some for a second or third time, or if they had to pay the ultimate sacrifice of losing a child in this war, we'd be long past the "support our troops" slogan. We'd be pulling out and concentrating on the real war — the war against terrorism.

As the San Jose Mercury News' editorial page editor, I've often discussed the war in Iraq with our editorial board. Before my son enlisted, none of us had a family member serving in the military, so the discussions were mainly about how and when to write about the conflict.

But now we talk about the war, via my son, almost daily: How's he doing? Have you heard from him? Is he in Iraq yet? In a far more personal way, we discuss the impact on families and friends, the political maneuvering and the lack of progress in bringing stability to the country.

What we don't talk about are the daily news stories about soldiers killed in action.

Having a son on his way to Iraq hasn't changed my view of the war: We should not have invaded the country. If this were a righteous war, it would be more bearable to see him go. But there's a knot in the pit of my stomach every time I think about where he's headed, what he might have to do and what might be done to him. He and other patriots are being sent to the wrong front.

My wife and I had a hard time understanding our son's decision to join the Army. Some of our discussions with him did not end particularly well. But over time we understood the depth of his earnestness and commitment. We knew the choice was his, and we've been proud and supportive since the day he signed his contract at the Military Entrance Processing Station just outside Moffett Field last July.

Our son has two cousins who have done tours in Iraq with the Army. Neither had much good to say about boot camp or their tours, and neither re-enlisted.

But our son loved boot camp; he couldn't believe he was getting paid for it. He liked the discipline, the physical conditioning, the weapons training and the opportunities he had to sometimes lead his platoon. At just over 5 feet 9 and 130 pounds, he was among the scrawniest recruits. But after seeing his determination, the drill sergeant nicknamed him Mighty Mouse.

Out of the 170 members of his boot camp class, he was among 11 "selected" to go immediately to Iraq. A week before his departure for Kuwait, our son came home for a short leave, and we shared three bittersweet days filled with laughter, tears, good food, family and friends. Too soon, we were driving him back to the airport. It was a quiet ride.

Although he had come home with six bags of clothing and personal belongings, Pvt. Wright was now down to a single camo backpack. After we parked, he put on his Army beret. He walked toward the ticket counter straight and determined, like the soldier he is.

Standing just outside the security line, my wife and I took turns hugging and kissing our son. Tears ran down our cheeks. Reaching into a pocket of his desert fatigues, he grabbed his beret and used it to wipe away his tears. Then my wife and I, with our arms around each other, watched our soldier-son disappear through the gate.

He is headed into a war we don't believe in, but more than ever he has our support.

Stephen E. Wright is a vice president and editorial page editor of the San Jose Mercury News. Reach him at swright@mercurynews.com.