In August I wrote a piece dedicated to four Marines of 3rd LAR who gave the ultimate sacrifice when a truck filled with explosives barreled into their barracks while they were sleeping. Since that time three more Marines and one Navy Corpsman who were a part of this unit also gave the ultimate sacrifice. I only had the pleasure of meeting one of the remaining four, I wish now I had taken the time to meet the others too.
When I made my plans to travel to California for the homecoming I decided to extend the trip a few days, so I could attend a special ceremony in honor of those fallen members of this very special unit. I knew it was going to be hard for me because of the attachment I have with this unit and it was. After all, these were Marines I traveled with into Kuwait and on into Iraq with.
As I stepped out of the car in front of the ceremonial field a light drizzle began to fall. I looked up to the heavens and wondered if this was a sign of the kind of day I had in front of me. I slowly walked to the field and tried to contain my emotions as best as I could, as the row of rifles standing at attention with helmets on top came into view. I stopped, frozen for a moment gathering my thoughts and fighting back the tears. I had been to memorial services in the past, but not like this one. This would be the first in which I personally touched a person for which the rifle represented in honor, in this case five. I was motioned to take a seat in an area designated for VIP Guests, but instead of sitting I continued to walk to the grass below.
I happened upon a few of those I had not seen at the homecoming and received smiles and shocked comments that I had ventured out so far from home for this special event. Yet they knew the reasons I was there because it was evident in my eyes.
As in every war throughout history there has always been a price paid, the ultimate sacrifice of a fallen soldier. Today was unlike any other day for me because I could remember the laughter, the voices, their sensitivity, a talented voice, and their love of being a Marine, along with discussions of family, kids and a bright future. The crowd became bigger as the entire Battalion arrived and took their place.
Off to the side of the seating area I stood alone, for this event I could not sit. The Marines gathered and stood at attention. The military has many rituals which they perform daily, but this one they take very seriously. A memorial service for a fallen brother is one of the hardest duties any Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine or Coast Guardsman has to do, but one they find the strength to perform. It is a ceremony meant to honor those who served. It’s meant to remember the sacrifices made by those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in the protection of Country, Freedom and most of all their brothers in arms.
It is always hard to hear of the passing of a brother. When one hears the news of a fallen hero our minds freeze and we refuse to accept the news just given to us. Our first thoughts are disbelief because we always thought that person was or seemed invincible, but then reality kicks in and a face comes into our memories. As I stood there I briefly leafed through the memorial booklet which I was handed and those faces brought back memories. I remembered Baucus of Montana telling me about his beautiful bride of only seven short months. I joked with him about being a Baucus and from Montana asking if he was related to Senator Max Baucus and sure enough he laughed, “yup, sure am he’s my uncle”. I thought about Hanson and his beautiful voice; Butterfield and his sense of humor standing over me like a father instructing me on how to keep my body armor closed so that I can come home and make them all famous with my writings; Williams and his love of anything fast, Galvez and his great sense of humor and smile. Then the ceremony started.
As I stood listening to the Marines speaking of personal thoughts and feelings for their friends, my emotions began to show and I began to tremble and the tears flowed like a faucet had just been opened. Gunnery Sergeant Cox of the Public Affairs Office walked by me and noticed I was breaking down. Without saying a word he placed his hand on my shoulder in an effort to comfort me. Little did he know how much that small gesture meant to me, because at that moment I needed something or someone to help hold me up. I wasn’t the only one who broke down. I heard a faint moan and I looked over at the formation, two Marines were escorting another who had been overcome with grief from the line. The ceremony continued with a bugler and then a bagpiper began to play. Even though I am Irish and I love the sounds of a well played bagpiper, today I could not listen to one for any amount of money in the world. I tried to think of other things, so as to not hear the music. I knew if I allowed my ears to hear the pipes, I was done for. I silently walked away from the area in which I was standing in order to compose myself once again.
I left the base for the last time and as we drove out the gate my heart sank with sadness at the loss of my affiliation with this very special group of Marines. When I was dropped off at the hotel, I went straight for the restaurant and ordered a shot of tequila. I sat at the bar with the shot in hand, said a little pray and toasted it up to those of the 3rd LAR Battalion who came home and those who didn’t. I downed the shot and went back to my room to pack my suitcase. It was time to go home and finally close this chapter of my journey.
Author’s Note: A while back I wrote a special poem for a friend and today it applies to how I am feeling at this moment. I would like to post it here now and send out a special message to those Marines of 3rd LAR – please know that I will never be able to thank you for giving me an experience of a lifetime, but know that the words of this poem apply to each and every one of you.
A FRIEND
A friend is someone who listens without judging you right or wrong,
And gently helps you define your thoughts to regain perspective.
While sharing with a friend, decision making becomes easier
And problems seem less critical
A friend gives you the priceless gift of time:
Time to share, to try out new ideas and rethink old ones.
A pat on the back when things have gone right…
A shoulder to cry on when things have gone wrong…
Someone who is a touch, a hug, a card, or a phone call away…
Someone with whom you can share everything that’s in your heart,
In a way that only we can…
With you, I know I never have to hide, I can be exactly who I am inside.
Whether we’re alone, or on the phone, we know how much we both care.
No matter how often we’re together we discover new dimensions of ourselves through the bonds and mirrors of our friendship.
A friend loves you for who you are, not what you do. Feeling so accepted you’re able
to set higher goals, try harder, and achieve more.
Through close friendships, you learn the fine art of giving. You expand, become more selfless, feel more deeply, and help more effectively.
Seeing the happiness you bring to another person, gives you a greater sense of well being and increase your capacity to love.
Wherever you go in life, whatever stage or place you reach, a friend who has entered
your soul, is always with you, gently guiding, faithfully following, and most of all,
Forever walking beside you!
Betty Kilbride (1994)
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