When I first started on this project I had one goal in mind, to tell the story of our brave men and women in uniform. There were a few things I was lacking in my objective of this project; I had never worn the uniform. I hadn’t been able to feel those feelings of preparation of ones affairs, or how it felt to be in a position of going into a war zone. I had never felt the feeling associated with deployment or that special welcome home. I had never experienced the loss of a brother who had given the ultimate sacrifice on the battlefield.
Every writer dreams of a single “special experience” in which to write from, but never seems to find it for one reason or another. One year ago, I was given the opportunity to have my one “special experience” when I accepted the invitation from the United States Marine Corps to join them as an embedded writer in Iraq. For reasons I still can’t comprehend, I accepted this offer without hesitation and the journey began.
This journey gave me the opportunity of meeting new people and many challenging experiences. I have traveled to a war zone and beyond, gained first hand experience of our Armed Forces in a war zone, doing what they do best. I have been challenged to be better than I could ever be and do things I never thought I ever would in my lifetime.
Destiny or fate puts us in special positions in order to learn from an experience, while my fate has twisted many times during this journey. It has been a special journey because I have now gained enlightenment of the excitement, fear, joys, laughs, struggles, successes and yes, even the sorrows of life in the military. Many have asked if I would be willing to do it all over again and without hesitation I have to say, in a heartbeat. That’s because I believe that life is a journey to experience fully. If I had allowed my fears to stand in the way of this journey, I would have lost out on something very special.
Over the course of the year, it’s felt like an emotional roller coaster, a roller coaster that is still speeding down the tracks, twisting and turning every day. As a civilian who has worked closely with the military for over twenty years, I have always kept my personal feelings separate from my working relationships, so as to never get to close to those in uniform around me. This project has forced me to truly get close, down and dirty so to speak than I ever thought I would with one very special group of warriors, those of the United States Marine Corps’ 3rd LAR Battalion. When I tried to wrap up the closure of my association with this unit, I found it extremely difficult to turn the last pages for many reasons. For this reason I decided to create a multi-part post of this experience and share it with you.
The Welcome Home!
The day was the 29th of September 2006. It was a beautiful California day, with its clear blue skies and the warm desert breeze touched my cheek as I stepped off the plane in Palm Springs. Although exhausted from traveling, I was returning to this desert oasis for a special mission. In a few hours my special protectors of the United States Marine Corps’ 3rd LAR BN would also be stepping off a plane and touching U.S. Soil for the first time in months. I was invigorated.
After checking into the hotel I had the opportunity of meeting some of the wives of my special warriors. We talked about their struggles and fears during this deployment. These are the unsung heroes of war, these special ladies who are married to my brave warriors. It was strange because I knew their husbands in a completely different way. They were not just Marines to me, these men were my heroes. They allowed me to enter their sacred world of military life in a war zone. While I tried to understand the essence of their sacrifices, as I listen to their voices, something happened. Instead of my muse giving me words to express their thoughts, I was feeling their emotions through my own raw emotions. What a blessing this was to experience.
While I listened to the wives tell me their stories, I began flashing back to my time with the guys in Iraq. I recalled many conversations with the Marines, and quietly in my head, I could hear their many expressions of love and admiration for wives, family and children, discussions about American History and life in general. I remembered my thoughts when I first met them. How others their age were out trolling the bars, hunting for something, partying and going to college, while these guys were much more mature for their age. Their training from boot camp changed their lives giving them a new maturity and self assurance that made me feel secure. I began to wonder how I could express my gratitude to these wonderful ladies on what their husbands had done for me. How does one tell a wife that their husband taught me so much about living and surviving in a war zone? I don’t think I will ever be able to express my gratitude to them, or to their Marines. These guys gave me the opportunity to feel what it was like to enter a world not many outside the military ever experience or can comprehend. As I got to know them, I began to feel detached from my heroes. The ladies sitting before me represented all the wives and family members I had heard so much about. I did not want to intrude into their private time with their husbands. I was excited right along with them, but felt as though I was an outsider looking in because none were my husband, son or brother, only my heroes.
Later that evening it was time for the welcome home activities at Victory Field. I have been to many a deployment farewell’s and welcome home party in the past, but this one was so much more special to me. These warriors earned a very special place in my heart. It was great to meet other family members: the other wives, sisters, brothers, parents and even the children. While we all waited for the news that our Marines were back on base we laughed, joked and told stories of these special warriors and my emotions began to build, but still I felt out of place among the families. No matter how much the Marines and family members let me in, I was still an outsider
When the announcer came over the load speakers and told us what we wanted to hear “The Marines have arrived and are at the Armory”, I sneaked off to the armory to welcome home my heroes in private. There they were, tired and weary standing in line waiting to secure their weapons. Those same emotions that crept up on me the night before I left Iraq began to surface once again. I wanted to yell Welcome Home so badly, but the words would not come out. I quietly walked along the Marines standing in line and could hear whispers: Who is that? Then a sense of surprise came from one muffled voice, I think that’s Betty he said. I turned, looked in the direction of the voice, smiled brightly and nodded as tears began to fill my eyes. My lips moved but no words came out.
When they were done, they lined up against the concrete wall awaiting orders to board the buses that would bring them to Victory field. As I looked up and down the wall, my heart felt as though it would jump out of my chest. My heroes were really home. I knew how tired and weary they felt after two days of traveling and processing to get to this point. Although I had joked about collecting my hugs and kisses from every one of them, it didn't seem right to get those hugs and kisses before their wives, girlfriends, parents and children had that honor. Those beautiful weary smiles were better than any hug or kiss I was promised. My heroes of 3rd LAR BN were home, that was enough for me.
Stay tuned for Part 2: The ride to Victory Field
No comments:
Post a Comment