I don't need nor have the right to speak for Marcella and her Uncle or Lcpl. Jesse and his father Jeff, but I think, as Veterans Day nears we should honor, in every way we can, the personal contributions and sacrifices the families of our brave men and women in uniform have made. After all, it is with thanks to them you still live in
the land of the free and home of the brave. When you read Marcella's letter, take note of the date the 230 Marines were killed in Beirut, lest you are one of those hung up thinking the war started on September 11, 2001.
Please take a moment to look at the Random Acts suggestions on this site (link on right hand column takes you right there) and follow through--do something to say "Thank you." Go to the blog about the car wash effort and the Marine Corps Ball in Las Vegas and make a donation. Go to the Treats for Troops site or the Marine Intelligence Association site in my links and take this opportunity to send some snacks and personal care items to a person you know--or better yet--randomly to a person who may have no one to send treats from home. (Can you imagine that? You are fighting for freedom for people even though you have no one close enough to send you a package? I honestly don't know where that bravery and commitment comes from.)
Do not buy that new sweater or gadget because it's on sale for "Veterans Day." Take that same $30, $50, $100 and do something to warm the heart of one of those brave souls who is, right now while you're reading this, putting his or her life on the line for YOU! May you have a warm and happy Veterans Day this year!
***
Dear Sgt. Grit:
First and foremost - Thank you and all Marines for the outstanding job you have done and continue to do for this American and the USA.
I have been around the Marines all of my life. My father died a retired Marine and my Uncle died while he was doing his duty. He is my purpose for writing to you. He was a 17 yr. Veteran who died along with about 230 other Marines in the barracks blast in Beirut on Oct. 23, 1983. His name was Master Sgt. Matilde Hernandez, Jr. I remember my Uncle "Buddy" very fondly because he was one of the very best things in my childhood. He is why I so very much loved The Corp then as much as I do now. By his service he showed me honor, respect and so very much more. I didn't understand it all then, but I get it now. I only wish I had the chance to thank him not only for his service and commitment to his country but for my first motorcycle ride and being the coolest uncle a girl could have and simply for what he showed me of his beloved Marine Corp.
It is to him, you and all of the brave warriors both here and abroad, alive and gone - I say SEMPER FI - MARINES, SEMPER FI.
God Bless You,
Respectfully
Marcella Hernandez Grimes
*****
Then there's this:
Dear Sgt. Grit,
I am forwarding the below letter from a friend of mine who took a job working with the military and is now in Iraq. He has been there for the past 10 months. I have found many of his "journal entries" to be enjoyable reading. This one, in particular, stands out as it references the Marines - in a good light, of course. I asked him if he minded if I forwarded it to you as it contains a bit of insight into the world of our Marines. Since he lives and works with Marines, I can't help but think that his insight is a bit better than those typically "on the outside, looking in".
Please feel free to post it (or parts, since it is somewhat long) as part of your weekly newsletter or in full on your website. He asked only that I "sanitize" it so as not to violate OPSEC and keep his identity confidential.
Enjoy,
Jeff, father of Lcpl Jesse, USMC
--------------
Hello all! I am now a resident of Fallujah. As I have found, this is a very different place from Victory, and a very different world.
The Marines run Fallujah. Marines are different. Their way of life is different. More disciplined. More regimented. More austere. Harder.
I'm surrounded by dozens of them when I go to chow or to the Morale Center (the MWR). Especially at the MWR, it's mostly the youngest of the Marines in what must be the closest thing to a purely social gathering they'll experience here. Few NCOs and fewer officers, just them and their buds.
They're young men, mostly Privates, Lance Corporals and Corporals, between the ages of 18 and 22. They're slim and lean of build, yet muscular. Broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip, as Jimmy Dean would say. There are no chubby Marines here.
Almost to a man, they wear their hair high and tight: buzzed on the sides with just a close-cropped shock on top to give their Kevlar helmet a lightly padded resting place. A few shave their heads altogether but most wear the sidewalls.
Many have a white stripe on either side of their face, running between the eye and the ear, where their skin was shielded from the harsh Arabian sun by their sunglasses or dust goggles. All are clean shaven, though some don't look like they need it regularly. Some still haven't outgrown acne.
They're good, honest faces. When they look at you or speak to you, you sense that there is no nonsense about them; no guile in their manner. It's as if their life is too busy and their spare time too precious to fritter it away on anything but straightforwardness and candor. Their life here revolves around linear thinking and linear action, going straight from Point A to Point B. And their demeanor shows it.
Their behavior is more reserved than I've come to expect from a gathering of the same age group from any other service. No braggadocio and no trash talking. It's not that they're deathly grim, they're just not as boisterous as a typical group of American 20-year-olds. They're aware that their next appointment with fate is only a few hours and a few hundred yards away. And the only thing that keeps them alive tomorrow could well be that pimple-faced Marine sitting next to them.
In this setting you truly can sense the depth of their camaraderie; the respect among those who've shared a common, life-changing experience. They behave as if they were family, a brotherhood of baby-faced warriors.
The job of the Marines is different, which makes them different. They don't rely on all manner of 21st Century techno-wizardry, like the Army or Air Force. Sure, they have tanks and helicopters and night vision goggles and the like, but those do not form the core of the Marine's order of battle. To them, the perfect weapon is a gutsy Marine with a keen eye, a steady hand, and a rifle that shoots straight. These are serious people doing a deadly serious job. It's a difference they wear on their faces.
The Marines make this place different. Frivolous living takes away the edge; hard living makes hard men. They pay scant attention to creature comforts and don't "waste" precious assets on it. Why buy a billiard table for the Unit's rec room when you could spend the same dollars on another 20,000 rounds of 5.56 ammunition? Besides, anything necessary for living already was issued to them but the Corps. Officer and enlisted, their entire world packs away into just two duffle bags and a ruck sack.
Marines talk differently, too. It's a port, not a door, a deck not the floor and a head, not a toilet. Equipment or personal items aren't lost, they're adrift. It takes a bit of getting used to.
Most everything they do for recreation involves athletic competition (it enhances both fitness and Esprit de Corps). And the equipment list rarely is longer than a football and an open field or a volleyball and a net. It makes no difference that it's only a friendly game; they still play like their lives depended on it.
Here they fly the US flag. It always has been understood that Camp Victory was an Iraqi base, albeit with a large number of Americans residing on it. It would have been disrespectful to the "landlords" to fly an American flag there, so none were. The US flag was never flown on the installation where I lived in Honduras many moons ago, and for the same reason. There is no such concern for the host's sensibilities here. This was never a palatial compound. It was us -- the US -- who dislodged the terrorist vermin from this place and it is we who man this post. And here they fly Old Glory proudly.
Basically the entire camp is as safe as a typical police station. Camp Victory butts up against some outlying Baghdad neighborhoods so certain areas of the camp have locals living right outside the wall. And they sometimes toss "surprises" over that wall and into the compound.
Here at Camp Fallujah, on the other hand, the Marines have cleared back any semblance of vegetation or habitation for what seems like several hundred yards from the camp's outer wall. That cinderblock wall is pretty tall (I'm guessing 11 or 12 feet) and this place is so flat that there are very few spots where you can stand on the ground and see anything beyond it. Where you "can" see past the wall, the most apropos image I can think of to describe it is Hiroshima after the bomb. The ground is barren and strewn with destroyed vehicles, both civilian and military. There is nothing there but desert and rusted hulks, a barren and desolate monochrome brown as far as you can see.
Marines man the numerous guard towers and scan the surrounding wasteland for anything approaching the camp. Anything that appears in that no man's land and looks to be headed toward the wall automatically is presumed to be hostile and reduced to just another piece of the lifeless landscape. It's a very stark image but it also is reassuring to know that none of the bad guys can get anywhere close to here without incurring the wrath of the bulldogs of the USMC. They guard their homes fiercely.
The PX here is the smallest I've seen in Iraq. And come payday, the Marines descend on it like so many locusts. With that double-whammy, the shortages I've seen elsewhere are even more widespread here. When we first got here, they were out of practically all the items I needed to set up housekeeping in my new swingin' bachelor pad (aka "bunker").
I wanted a reading lamp to replace the one I'd abandoned when I left Camp Victory. The PX had the lamps but only 115 VAc light bulbs. The current here is 220VAc.
They were out of fly swatters. And brooms. And buckets. And mops, er swabs. And extension cords/power strips. But they did have an impressive selection of decorative Christmas lights.
When I moved in, my bunker... I mean my room... was filthy. There was dust a full quarter inch deep on the window sills. Not house dust but the brown stuff that passes for desert sand here. The walls and part of the ceiling were streaked with the same stuff. The room stank with the same earthen odor as a dust storm. Since this used to be a bath house, the obvious solution was just hose it down and swab it out. But the PX had no buckets. Or mops, er swabs. Or detergent (except liquid Dial hand soap).
It took us three days to find a mop and bucket that we could borrow from the Marines. Then it took my roommate and me a solid eight sweat-soaked hours to scrub the grime out of the room. We worked from top down, naturally, and by the time the floor had dried, there was dust settled on the window sills again.
Our site lead spends a lot of time trying to convince us it could be worse. If he's hoping to convince me, he's got quite a lot of ground yet to cover.
P.S.,
If you think the invasion of Iraq had nothing to do with the greater international war on terror, you need to come here and look around. This place was West Point for the Islamo-Fascist terrorist crowd. Saddam hosted training for all the major flavors of Muslim terrorism in this place, including Al Qa'aida, the Taliban and the PLO. The dormitories and some of the military-style training facilities (obstacle courses, etc.) still are there. Some of the things I have seen here send chills down my spine because they are undeniable proof of the unholy terror that was grown here to be exported to the rest of the world. I think I understand the revulsion that the Allied liberators of the Nazi concentration camps at the end of WWII must have felt.
Eventually I will post pictures that I think are conclusive enough to sway all but the Kool-Aid drinking anti-war crowd that Saddam was growing an infectious disease here to be loosed on the Western world in general and the US in particular. One photo in particular shows a dormitory wall painted with an Iraqi flag and a Palestinian flag waving over an American eagle, beside which is written in Arabic, "Death to America". That one shot pretty much says it all.If Chuckie Schumer or Cindy Sheehan or Teddy (hic!) Kennedy or any other of the anti-war moon bats were to come here, open their eyes and see what I've seen, they'd know better (thought I expect they'd never admit it).
Few Americans waking up on September 12, 2001 would have believed that just four years later the Taliban and Saddam Hussein would be gone, afghans and Iraqis would be lining with governments they elected, the Syrians would be forced out of Lebanon by angry Beirut voters, elections would have taken place on the West Bank after demise of Arafat, all U.S. troops would be out of Saudi Arabia, and political reform would be on the rise in the Gulf States. All without another terrorist attack on the United States.
Victor Davis Hanson
The American Enterprise
September 2005
Marine Corps Intelligence Association..............
The Marine Corps Intelligence Association is a non-profit, fraternal organization of Marine Corps regular, reserve, retired and honorably discharged Intelligence Marines, dedicated to the noble purpose of promoting fraternity, professionalism, and philanthropy. Two of the programs we sponsor are the Marine Corps Intelligence Educational Foundation and the S-2 Care Package Program. The Marine Corps Intelligence Educational Foundation, Inc supports academic excellence through scholarships, support the professional education of active duty and reserve Intelligence Marines and conduct historical research. The scholarship (presently $1500) is awarded annually to an eligible recipient. The S-2 Care Package Program supports our Intel Marines on deployment to Iraq, Afghanistan and other overseas locations by sending phone cards, books, snacks, recreational games, and personal hygiene items to Marines serving in Intelligence sections fighting on the front lines to defeat terrorism and protect our freedoms. All donations are tax deductible.
www.mcia-inc.org
Joseph "Top" Kuhn
Source: Sgt Grit Newsletter, #109, Nov 3, 2005
http://www.sgtgrit.com/scuttlebutt/newsarchives/2005/nov_3_ac.asp