Upset with the plight of these close allies, I testified before the Senate in January 2007 about the need to protect our interpreters. In an odd twist of fate, I met with Gen. John Kelly, now President Trump’s secretary of homeland security, who was then in charge of legislative affairs for the Marine Corps. Officially, he needed to ensure that I wasn’t going to embarrass the Marine Corps. But I’ll never forget his words to me: Abood had worn the Marine Corps uniform in combat, and we had an obligation to keep him safe.

Following that hearing, Congress created a special visa program for Iraqis who helped the United States during the war. (A similar program was later created for Afghans.) This was not a partisan issue, but an issue of national honor and responsibility, and thousands of people have come to the United States on those visas.

Seven months after I testified, Abood and his family arrived in the United States, as refugees. He passed away five years ago from cancer, but his daughters and wife are here. One daughter is a New York City police officer, and another is applying to join the force. Abood, like Frank and many other interpreters, joined our ranks because he believed America stood for something bigger than itself. They believed America was an exceptional country.

Two months ago, I got an email from Frank. He was still living in Baghdad with daily fears for his and his family’s safety. After six years of vetting, including what seemed like countless interviews and background checks by various government agencies, he had finally been cleared to come to the United States with his pregnant wife and 18-month-old son. My wife and I began to prepare our guest room for their arrival.

But now, because of a new executive order by President Trump, Frank is no longer welcome.

And he is far from alone. The order Mr. Trump signed on Friday suspended entry of all refugees to the United States for 120 days, barred Syrian refugees indefinitely and blocked entry into the United States for 90 days for citizens of seven predominantly Muslim countries, including Iraq. Almost immediately my phone lit up with emails and texts from other military veterans who had been fighting to get their Iraqi or Afghan interpreters to the United States. Some were already on flights to New York and San Francisco. Now those people, including Frank and his family and hundreds of others in the special visa pipeline, are in limbo.