When I was in 1st Battalion 5th Marine
Regiment, we were deployed to fight fires in Washington State
We were gone for about 45 days, and in that time we walked about 300 miles over some of the most arduous and gorgeous terrain of the American North West. We hated each and every second of it, we suffered 2nd and 3rd degree burns, heat exhaustion, home-sickness, blisters, splinters, concussions, fractured and broken bones, and in general we were sick and tired of each other. Through it we saw an entire mountain literally explode as the flames raced zig-zag up and down the mountainside igniting trees sending them shooting high above the firestorm below. The sap from the super heated trees acting as a propellant, in peace time it was one of the most awesome displays of destruction I have ever been witness to. The raw power of nature was incredible, Earth, Wind, and Fire united in a torrent destruction completely engulfing the landscape and rendering it devoid of life. In less than two hours where lush green forest once stood remained nothing but smoldering ash. I stood witness to the wrath of Mother Nature, and I stood in awe of the sheer power of it. We had spent most of the previous day, well in to the night digging a line in the sand if you will, a fire break to stop the wrath that we knew was coming, we spent the night in a fire camp watching the fire sweeping all before it, just as the Legio XXI “Rapax” once did, nothing was spared. We were briefed that the mission before us was to draw that proverbial line in the sand and in doing so we’d be saving peoples homes. At the time all that meant to us was more work, and more hills. Being Pendleton Marines, we were quite used to climbing hills. Yet to date, we had climbed nothing like the mountains we were about to ascend and as usual we were fighting against the clock. But in this case, our enemy would not succumb to fatigue, fear, doubt or pain. Fighting fires is a war wholly different from anything any of us had ever experienced, before or since.
As we descended the mountain having at least reached detente with our fiery nemesis as we crested yet another lesser mountain ridge we were over looking Lake Chelan Washington, the sight was one of the most magnificent and breathtaking visions of the majesty of American scenery I have ever been witness to, the stark contrast from what lie behind us was beyond description. As we stood there with soot, and ash clinging to every square inch of our uniforms, kit and exposed skin, we stood there at the point of exhaustion. Yet, each of us stood a little taller looking at the homes that we’d helped to save, when we reached the road, a Jeep pulled up and a Captain from the Washington National Guard stepped out in a clean starched uniform, and he promptly told us there was to be no swimming in the lake. He continued on about this and that for nearly 10 minutes, none of us really listening to him. Finally he got back in his Jeep and drove off. Our Platoon Sergeant, looked around and said with a look on his face I’ll never forget; “The hell with him, I’m going swimming!” It was a mad dash to the water, Marines jumping in, in various stages of undress, what was behind us just over the hill was almost immediately forgotten. When we emerged from the water, there was a van parked there and several women were standing there, Marines being Marines, began approaching the women, it looked rather like peacocks dancing about trying to gain favor. Yet the ladies had other intentions; opening the back of their van they produced the largest submarine sandwich I have ever seen, and more importantly BEER! We of course were forbidden from consuming alcohol during this time, but as all good Marines do, we embraced the locals and their strange customs so as not to offend. We didn’t offend them to the tune of consuming the whole sandwich, and 18 beers between us. It was a feast worthy of kings. I dare say I have eaten so well in the last 9 months. That day we did a good thing, we didn’t do it for thanks, not for free food nor beer (which helped by the by). We did it because we were asked to.
What is my point in this little aside to where I am now? Only this, Lt Col Bonwit gathered us at the end of our deployment as we prepared to return to our lives; he often gathered us together to “give us the gouge” as to what was what in our little world. I used to dread those massive formations, having to “bring it in, and sit, kneel, and bend so all could see, be seen, and hear the “old man” speak. He always told us like it was, he never fluffed the situation, or sugar coated things for us. He treated us like men… no he treated us like Marines. If we asked he’d always be honest, never taking out his anger, or frustration on a subordinate. He always found something positive to add, even after he or his XO Maj Dan Trout removed a piece of ones ass. He always admonished in private, but his was always the first hand to pick you up. He had a decent way with words, he spoke softly and plainly, never condescending, or short. He stood smiling before us and he said simply; “That sucked!” We all laughed out loud with a thunder that echoed all over the camp, he always told it like it was, and his humor was never lost on any of us. He said that he knew that it had been hard going, but that’s how Marines liked it, and that’s why they sent us. He said he’d be glad to be away from this place, but that in 5-10 years from now, each and every one of us would look back at the job we did here, and be proud. He was right. So, that is my hope for this place, for our struggle here in Iraq that in 5-10 years from now I’ll be able to look onto the fields that our blood was spilt and see a new Iraq growing from the turmoil of the old. It will not abate the sense of loss we all feel for our departed comrades, friends, brothers, sons, Fathers, and husbands, but it will lessen the sting and anger of their passing and their children can know that it was not in vain.
In three or four month’s time, I will do my best to forget
this war, and leave it behind me. That
of course will be short lived as the events of my future will not allow
it. What will the future hold for the
men I have met here that I know call friend, that are now and forever more
brothers. What will become of us as we
separate from the “big Army return to the world of the National Guard, or
retire, or separate altogether from the Army? Where will the path then take us, will we become like the men who stand
at rapt attention as the colors pass by on Memorial Day, and the 4th
of July, whose faces bear the scars of wars past, and whose eyes burn with
intensity beyond explanation. Already a
member of the VFW, at 23, and now again at 34, I look at my face and wonder
where the time has gone. It is of course
rhetorical, but I ask nonetheless. Will,
Dan, Murph, Greg, and I be those old warriors who stand on the side of the
road, as the parade passes by? What will
the coming year bring for us? Children,
return to careers and family, finish PhD’s, maybe try a new career, but what I
do know is this. As Dan said all of us
have changed in many ways, some changes we aren’t even aware of yet. All with one thing in common, we were here. Lt Col Bonwit’s words still ring in my ears,
in 5 or 10 years we will look back on what we did here with pride. Young for his years, Luke Stricklin aptly
stated, “I don’t care why Bush went into Iraq
THE CONSTITUTIONAL REFERENDUM (THE SOUL OF A NATION)
Last night I went on a patrol with Civil Affairs, our
mission was to see if everything was ready for today’s vote. We drove around from site to site accessing the
security of the polling sites, what we found was an Iraqi population that was
calm and eagerly awaiting their chance to vote once again, and take part in
their own destiny. The day passed
virtually without incident, and once again the Iraqi people took a step towards
complete independence. Today didn’t
belong to the insurgency, or the Coalition, it belonged to all of Iraq
RDC
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