When the casualty incident described in this piece occurred, it fell to me to tend to the unit’s “family.” Beyond the families directly affected, the rest experienced these events through my messages. They chronicle a small piece of what happens on the home-front when casualties come home. [1] These events unfold regularly in our midst, more so in the last decade of conflict, but most in the general public have no experience of this aspect of war; they should.
Reflecting upon the conflict and mayhem that has been unleashed in Iraq since the instigation of the military operations to end the regime of Saddam Hussein, there are many issues to confront the scholar. As a military historian, most fundamentally for me I never believed regime change in Iraq was a good idea. Breaking states should only be a strategy choice of last possible resort, and even then it is probably best avoided. But as the spouse of a Marine Officer my professional and intellectual opposition would be challenged by personal obligations.
I was not unfamiliar with this internal conflict between scholarly and real world obligations. In 2004, as a Fellow in their Summer Seminar in Military History, I watched the veterans among the West Point uniformed historians experiencing both cognitive dissonance as well as resonance as they confronted their intellectual material. I could tell that they were comparing their experiences with their scholarship, but I did not understand what that meant at the time. Years later, humbled by my own small experience, I have a sense of how they must have felt and thought. My hope is that this glimpse into the wider experience of war and conflict will offer a similar bit of enlightenment for others.
The vagaries of the personnel system meant that my former husband missed the first several years of OIF. He spent its first year “Stop-Moved” in Okinawa – a one year unaccompanied tour doubled at the commencement of hostilities in 2003. Then a B-Billet tour in Newport, RI, followed, because the alternation between line units and administrative jobs is relentless in the Marine Corps, no matter the state of conflict. At the first opportunity, after only two years in Newport, the Fleet Marine Force beckoned once again, specifically for Iraq. After a three months’ preparation, in January 2007, as a Major, he deployed to Iraq in command of a Military Training Team (MTT). As a training cadre the team was small, giving the families in support an intimacy and closeness that would colour the experience of the deployment. Furthermore, I was the unit Key Volunteer, which made me the point of contact between the unit/Marine Corps and the families of the serving Marines and Sailor. For the most part this meant I was responsible for providing official and correct information about the unit’s movements and activities to the families on a timely basis. Secondarily, as possible, I tried to offer some measure of additional information and support, as well as to coordinate any assistance the unit or the families might require. [2] It is the sort of responsibility that anyone not afflicted with terrific arrogance will feel that they have done inadequately.
By way of background on the context of the deployment, Fallujah in the first half of 2007 was roiling. At the time of the casualty event the Marines and the Iraqi Army battalion they were training had already seen significant and regular combat action. Their AOR, an area of the city known as the “Pizza Slice,” was particularly dangerous, with regular and daily insurgent activity. The Lieutenant Colonel commanding the Iraqi battalion was experienced and educated, having served during the Hussein regime. [3] Pragmatic and hopeful that a new start could be made for his country, he was a willing and able partner in the rebuilding of Iraq. The battalion and its training team would endure several months of sustained attacks until the insurgency broke – of its own stupidity and the civilian population’s shifted allegiance – early in the summer.
However, before that break occurred, a sniper ambush towards the end of a day’s activities took the lives of one of our Marines, and wounded two others. On the afternoon of 29 April, an element of the battalion and its trainers had been conducting a dismounted patrol of Marines and Iraqi soldiers with vehicles in support. As the last task of the patrol, they had stopped to conduct a search. With the units’ vehicles deployed along narrow and twisted streets, the dismounted elements cleared a building which had been identified as a potential insurgent base. Finding nothing in the building, as the Marines made their way to their vehicles the attack opened with precision sniper and general supporting fire.
Within short order, no more than five minutes of fighting, the three casualties were taken. The remaining 15 to 20 of minutes combat was fought as the dismounted Marines struggled to safely remove the fallen to the vehicles while those in the vehicles provided cover. Unable to safely extricate from the killing ground on their own, the timely arrival of the QRF (quick reaction force) ended the engagement. It was a close run thing, as the Marines engaged on the ground were running out of ammunition to continue their fight.
I remember the day clearly. I was probably munching bagels and driving home to Newport with my son and dog after a weekend visiting family in New York, while these events were occurring. (Yes, you do stop to note the surreal aspects of such moments.) Or maybe I was reading the Sunday New York Times, which had a story on the turning tide fighting the insurgents in Ramadi. Although the deployment was not easy, things were not terrible, and I had just returned from the annual conference for the Society for Military History conference and was energized for my research. [4] We arrived home, safe and sound. And completely oblivious.
It was later that night when the Major sent me the following email:
Do NOT say anything/tell anyone. The worst happened. Notifications are being made. I’m still alive.
Brevity enhanced, rather than diminished, the impact of the news.
The identity of one of the casualties was the first detail I would receive regarding the incident. Shortly after the email arrived the phone rang. On the other end was the brother of the unit’s corpsman (Doc) who had been wounded the ambush. As awful as it was in its brevity I was now happy to have received the message. While there is no way to prepare for such things it was better not to be caught completely unaware. I spent hours on the phone with the brother that night, talking through what was happening to Doc and trying to get what information I could from the unit in Iraq. This effort was complicated by the fact that when casualty incidents happen a unit goes into communications lockdown – “River City” [5] – so as to avoid the unfortunate circumstance where rumour gets ahead of the official notification procedures of the service. Technically the Major should not have been in email contact with me. But as I was conferring with him on behalf of the family of a wounded service member, judgment and discretion were exercised to provide every support possible.
That night we settled the first round of issues and for the moment Doc’s situation was stable.
The next day’s shock was my notification of the Marine who had been killed in action.
When the liaison from the Marine unit in Camp Pendleton called and started talking me through the details of the event and what was now happening, my mind was whirring through the names and what the loss of each individual would mean. A widow. A child who would never know his father. A new mother left at loss for her spouse. A beloved child’s life ended. A fiancé who would never marry. When I heard the name of the Marine who had been killed, I was gutted.
Even as some scenarios had been averted, in the end there was no good answer to the question I had been considering, who had been lost?
I was informed of the dates and locations for the return of this fallen Marine and the funeral services. The family was from the East Coast, so I would attend. At the time we expected Doc to return to Bethesda on the same weekend, so my plan was to go there after the funeral. As it would turn out, this did not happen, his return to the States was delayed by complications from his wounds. To be honest, when he did return the experience of seeing him in the hospital in those early days was not easy and so the delay was for the best. I would have struggled mightily that weekend to confront both shocks.
It was for me to break the news to the rest of the families. Studying war and military history, casualty notifications are a common part of the narratives. To write one in reality is far more difficult than the words put to paper suggest. It is a humbling responsibility.
01 May 2007
All — If you have not heard from your family member in the last two days, it is because their communications have been shut down in light of recent events. I can tell you that the team was involved in a serious incident yesterday, with one critically wounded, and another, unfortunately, killed in action….I am not certain when the guys will be able to resume communications, but I hope it will be in the next day or two. I have been in contact with both families involved and have been assisting them in every way possible.
The team member wounded was Doc. His injuries were serious, but he was operated on and stabilized in Fallujah before being evacuated to Balad, where he underwent further surgery. He is in stable condition and improving, and is nearing the end of the period of critical concern. They expect to evacuate him to Germany, where he will stay for a couple/few days before being returned stateside for the recovery and recuperation process. There is good cause for (guarded) optimism that he will make a complete (or near complete) recovery.
As concerns the other casualty, I am very saddened to have to inform you all that the team has lost [a] Lieutenant. I know from various things the Major related to me that the Lieutenant was a superb officer. He was instrumental in setting the sort of moral, ethical and professional standard that was a credit to himself, the Marine Corps, and the mission to which he had been assigned. His family is, of course, suffering from this tragedy, but they are trying to hold onto these positive values, and the importance the Lieutenant himself placed in them, as a means to help them through this time. I will be in contact with them later in the week regarding the plans for the services. As they are located relatively near to me I will be in attendance.
Obviously both families are trying to come to grips with the enormity of the situations they face, and neither is able to put into words what they might need or appreciate in terms of support or assistance. After the passage of some time I will find out what you all can do for them or on their behalf. I would suggest that you all allow a few days before attempting to reach out to the [Lieutenant’s family]. I know that they are surrounded by friends and family right now, and do not lack for the support necessary to make it through this time….
If you would like, you may forward messages to me to pass along to the families as appropriate. I will keep you apprised of the situation with Doc, and will let you know details regarding the service for [the Lieutenant] if there is interest.
Unfortunately I do not yet have information regarding the third casualty [a member of the augmentees assigned to the team], but as I receive details I will pass those along as well.
I will tell the Major to have everyone send a message home when communications are restored.
I think that’s it for now. My best to all of you,
Jill
That week passed in a blur as I tried to come to grips with the events, continued assisting Doc’s family, and made plans to travel to Pennsylvania for the funeral. I would speak to the Lieutenant’s parents briefly during this period, as well as send them the following message.
02 May 2007
Please allow me to again express my deepest sympathies to you on the loss of [your son]. I knew early on that there had been a fatality, but the Major, of course, could not let me know directly who it had been. When the GySgt from I MEF contacted me to discuss what had happened, and informed me that it was your son, the news was crushing. Part of it had to do with the email exchange we had last week — his loss did not seem right given that we had been talking about him just so recently. Another part was due to the role I know he played on the team and with the Iraqis, and how much his influence would be missed by all of them. I’ve spent a fair bit of time staring at the picture of [the Major and your son] sharing a cigar, trying to come to grips with his loss. It seems that he is staring right at me, and I just can’t imagine that he is gone. It provides me with the smallest glimpse into the enormity of what you must be going through right now.
I have attached a copy of the message I sent to the team families regarding the events of last Sunday. All of the immediate family members, as well as a wide universe of people secondarily related to the team, stand ready to provide you with whatever you may want or need, and when the time is appropriate, I hope you will feel free to let me know how they might help you and/or honor [your son’s] memory. I do not know whether you wish to remain informed of the doings of the team, and it is certainly not something you need to concern yourself with now. However, given what I have learned about you from our brief conversations over the past few months, and what I know about the sort of man [your son] was, I have to assume that despite your terrible loss you still hold the team close to your hearts — perhaps even closer now than before. Please know that I stand ready to accommodate whatever your participation desires might be when the time is right.
I have been collecting notes for you from the team families and others, and will bring those that I have with me. I will continue to collect these as time goes by and pass them to you as appropriate. And, as previously mentioned, I will forward the memorial collection that the team puts together. I know that the Major is eager to provide you with anything you need communication and information-wise, and will move heaven and earth to contact you directly tomorrow. I hope that speaking to him will assist you in this terrible time.
Finally, it will be an honor to meet you both in person on Saturday and to properly express my own sentiments, as well as those of the Major, the other team members, and their families.
My warmest regards, Jill
I drove to Pennsylvania on that Friday for the services. It was a long, exhausting weekend, and on Monday I reported back to the rest of the families.
07 May 2007
Good morning all,
I am returned from the weekend’s journeys and wanted to pass along an update on Doc and tell you a little something of the services that were held in honour of the lieutenant.
Despite his continued recovery and improvement, Doc’s return to the states has been delayed for a few days/a week. He developed a very minor infection, so in an abundance of caution they have kept him in Germany to continue his recovery. He remains on a respirator and sedated, although I understand that this is to give him the rest his body needs to recover, and is not bad news. The parents travelled to Germany yesterday, arrived there this morning (EDT), and have been in to see their son. I spoke with the brother, who did not make the trip, and he let me know that, despite the difficulties associated with seeing their son in such condition, just being with him had provided them with a large measure of comfort. I am certain that Doc is aware, on some level, of their presence and that this will help him along as well. [The fiancée of one of the other Lieutenant’s] is stationed in Germany, and will do everything possible to get down to Landstuhl, while the parents are there, to visit with them and help, if necessary, in any way that she can. As soon as Doc returns to Bethesda I will make a trip down to see him. I will continue to keep you all as up to date as possible on his progress.
===
I would like to tell you as much about the services for [the Lieutenant] as possible. I hope I can do justice to the event, though I will admit that parts of it exceeded my comprehension at times, both in terms of the scale of support and love that was in evidence from the family and the local community, as well as in the magnitude of the effect that [he] clearly had on the wide universe of people who knew him.
Unfortunately, I was unable to make it to PA for the services marking his return home. However, I am attaching a link to the video of the event, so that you might share in it somewhat….
The services on Saturday began with the viewing. I will admit that I had a great deal of difficulty with that part, as I waited and was thinking of the events, and I must express how grateful I was to have the [liaison officer] who had been sent by the Advisory Training Group in Pendleton there with me — he went above and beyond to support and help me. As soon as I was introduced to [the Lieutenant’s parents], as well as [his] sister and her husband, they embraced me as family. I cannot tell you how humbled I was at their graciousness, at their thoughts for me during this incredibly difficult time for them. It is easy to understand how [the Lieutenant] became the man of character that he did given the qualities of the family in which he was raised.
I took this last moment with [the Lieutenant] to offer the farewells of his teammates, as well as those of the families who love and support the team. I let him know that Doc and the other Marine wounded were doing well and would recover from their injuries with few if any ill-effects. I told him that this was not how I had wanted to see him again — I had wanted to have the team to our house when they returned to Pendleton for a big dinner and some fun to celebrate their homecoming. I am certain, however, that he will be with us in spirit as we get together to mark the end of the deployment. I made certain that he knew that we would take care of the team during the second half of the deployment. I also assured him that we would also see to it that his family did not lack for the love and support we could provide them to help them through this very difficult time.
As the viewing period came to a close and we prepared to move to the Church for the services, more evidence of the magnitude of the event was in evidence. The legion of vehicles, bedecked in the flags of the Marine Corps and the Stars and Stripes was awe inspiring. As we made our way through the town it seemed that every person there was out on the streets to salute their fallen neighbor and show their support for the family. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, the town a rare beauty of old and stately homes, there were American flags everywhere. At first I felt inappropriate for taking account of the beauty, but as I thought on it more, I realized that it was as it should be, that a force beyond our comprehension had intervened to provide a day and a scene worthy of the event and the people involved. [The Lieutenant] had clearly reported to his next duty station — in the parlance of the Marine Corps and the idea that fallen Marines guard the streets of heaven — and was already proving to be outstanding in his job and had made certain that all was taken care of.
The services held at the Church were a tribute to the character, faith, and personality of the Lieutenant. We were given glimpses into the parts of his life that reflected upon the totality of the man. There were moments of laughter, as humorous stories were related about him. There were moments of reverence, as the depths of his personality were revealed. There were moments of profound sadness as the reality of what had been lost became abundantly clear. The family and friends chosen to speak on his behalf were eloquent, offering such meaningful words of praise and insight into the life of someone who had clearly made a difference at every moment he had on this earth. There was not a person in the Church who was not touched by their offerings. I intend to get copies of these remarks so that I can send them to the team back in Fallujah, and I will try to provide them to you all as soon as possible.
In order to convey to you the scope of the procession to the cemetery, let me tell you that I have, on many occasions, followed the exact same route as I travelled from my home in New Jersey to Washington, DC. It is a very busy route that is filled with businesses and often congested with traffic. To imagine the efforts that went into allowing the free procession that must have stretched for several miles is a testament of the lengths to which the local authorities went to show their support of the family and to pay their respects to the Lieutenant. It seemed that every local fire and police department was out to pay their respects. At one point we passed under the arch of crossed ladders from two fire trucks — an image I will never forget. Again, scores and hundreds of people lined the route to pay their respects. As I looked upon the people in cars who were stopped to provide for the free passage of the procession I am certain that I could see their profound respect for what they were witnessing.
The burial ceremony was simple, and yet filled with all of the honours and traditions that the Marine Corps holds dear. There was a piper playing in the background as we arrived. We shared in the playing of Taps, by a lone bugler off in the distance, and the rifle salute. The detail of Marines there to assist in the ceremony fulfilled their duty with all of the honor and respect they knew was due to a fallen comrade. As I took a moment to thank them afterwards for their service, on behalf of the team back in Fallujah and their families, they offered with great humility and true emotion that they could think of nothing they would rather do. The ceremony ended with the bestowal of flowers upon the casket.
At the end of the long day, one filled with many tears and sad thoughts on such a tragic loss, the family and friends gathered at the [family] home to share a brief moment of lightness and perhaps a little joy, as they reflected upon all of the good things associated with [the lieutenant] and his life, the funny stories that made up the texture and fabric of his character, and the things that would be missed in his absence. I had the opportunity to speak with several of his friends, and they told me a little of the person he had been in his youth, and the effect that he had had on their lives. I also talked with a Marine, recently returned from Fallujah, who had served as part of the augment in personnel the team had received near the beginning of the deployment….Although he indicated that things were challenging for the team, and at times downright rough, that they were all doing very well, their spirits were as high as possible, and were comforted and deeply appreciative of all the support the families had provided.
To close, I would like to relate to you all that, as I spoke with [the lieutenant’s father] before leaving, he made certain that I know that the family remained committed to the team and wished to remain a part of our group until the end of this deployment — a sentiment echoed by every member of the family with whom I spoke. Despite having an inkling that this would be the case, I was still amazed at what it said about them that they maintained the willingness to partake of something that would, on many levels, remind them in such stark terms of their loss and pain….And, as they face the difficult of simply living with the new reality, I am certain that there is nothing the rest of us won’t do to help them out….
My best to all of you,
Jill
The funeral was closure for only one part of the event. The long and often painful recovery of the wounded personnel was the next challenge to face.
Returning to the Doc, initial optimism for his recovery would be eroded over the next several weeks as his body struggled to cope with the terrible trauma to which it had been subjected. However, just after the funeral these difficulties were in the future and at that moment we celebrated the good news that he would be returning to the States.
09 May 2007
It is my distinct pleasure to pass along some good news. This is the latest report from [our family member in Germany]:
//I went back down to Landstuhl today to see Doc one last time before they fly him back to the states and I am happy to announce that his is fully alert and breathing on his own. He looked really good, considering what he has just gone through. His parents were not there so I stayed and talked to him for a little while. Even though he is breathing on his own they still have the ventilator hooked up for supplemental oxygen only so he isn’t able to talk yet. He mouths words when he can but mostly writes everything down. It was good to see he has a sense of humor and one of the first things he asked about was the rest of the team. He told me he remembers everything about their encounter but he asked who died and if [my fiancé] got shot. For a brief moment I started tearing up on him as I had to tell him about the Lieutenant and [my fiancé’s] grazing. He wants me to tell the guys that he is doing well but he’s not coming back! I had to chuckle at that after he wrote it. I know you will tell the Major so he can pass it on to the others. I’m sure he will be doing even better by the time he gets to [Bethesda] and hopefully you will be able to make it down to visit. I just wanted to pass along this information so you could spread the good news. Well, I must get started on my school work, talk to you later.//
I will let you all know when he arrives in Bethesda and how to contact him there.
Best, Jill
During all this time I had known there was a third casualty. However, as he and a dozen or so other Marines from his unit had been attached to the team after deploying to Iraq I did not have any information on them. Finally, in the second week after the event I was able to track him down.
09 May 2007
Hello all,
So, I finally made contact with the other Marine (a Lance Corporal) wounded during the incident of 29 April. He is back in the states, recovering at [the hospital]. His direct dial phone number is…, I’d say give him a call if you want — I did, and he seemed to enjoy the contact. He is doing pretty well, all things considered, able to get up and move around, and his spirits seem appropriately high — relative to what has happened to him, of course. He’s not able to eat anything more than toast and liquids, so there is no need to send him food care packages. However, he picked up something of a Sudoku habit over in Iraq, and so would enjoy books of those, as well as magazines along the lines of National Geographic, Time, etc. Cards and flowers would also be welcome. (I checked, and he sheepishly said that flowers would be good.) He will be [at the hospital] for about two weeks, so take that into account when sending anything….I would assume that you can send things to him care of the hospital, but it might be worth making a call to double-check the addressing procedures.
As mentioned in the previous update on Doc, he is conscious, alert, and cracking jokes, albeit in writing. He will probably be flying back tomorrow – I will receive word when his departure is confirmed. For the purposes of sending things to him (same magazines as above, cards, and flowers), I would assume that delivery for Monday is a safe bet. I will try to get down there for Monday to visit with Doc and his family.
I think that’s it for now. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.
All my best,
Jill
When the Doc finally arrived to Bethesda Naval Hospital in mid-May I flew to DC to visit with him and his family. I had, by this time, spent quite a lot of time on the phone and emailing them. The visit was more difficult than I let on in the message below. I had last seen him hale and hearty on the eve of the deployment. His wounds had transformed him utterly. And the strain upon his parents was, as a parent myself, almost too difficult to bear. As well, at the end of this message to the families, there is the reminder of the toll the losses had on the rest of the team.
21 May 2007
All,
I hope this finds you all doing well. My apologies for the time between postings, I didn’t even realize the time had passed — deployment brain, I suppose. However, I do have quite a bit of information to pass along.
On Doc – I travelled to Bethesda on Friday to visit with the Doc and his family. It was a tremendous pleasure to finally meet the family after the weeks of phone contact. I can’t express how valuable it was to me to have a chance to talk with Doc, about the team, about what happened, and so forth, both with him and his family, and [with him alone] for the few moments we had while they were having dinner. As for his medical condition, considering where he started in this, he is doing remarkably well. There are still medical issues to deal with, and he remains in significant discomfort, but all of the medical personnel remain really pleased with his progress and entirely optimistic about his recovery. I would suggest that his biggest “problem” right now is the loss he is feeling at being separated from the team. Because of the small size of the original MTT (and even with the augments the team retains its “small unit/big family” feel), and how close they got with one another, separation from the team must be very difficult. I also suspect that, although he had worked with Marines before, this was the first time the Doc had been fully integrated into a unit – if we stick with the family metaphor, I suppose I would describe it as the difference between being a favorite cousin and being a brother. I have passed this impression along to the Major and he will make sure that Doc gets a call from someone on the team on a fairly regular basis. If you are searching for something to do for him I think that contact — mail, visits (to the extent that they are geographically feasible), or phone calls — would mean the world to him.
On the Lance Corporal: [He] has made remarkable progress. Rather than the two weeks he thought he would spend in the hospital at LeJeune, he was released to home care here in Rhode Island last weekend. On Wednesday we got together for coffee at his favorite local place…, a lovely spot right on the water — of course we remarked on how the locale could not possibly be more different from where he had just come. It was great to talk to someone who had just been with the team. Although he was a recent augment to the MTT, he had already gotten quite attached to it, and is very disappointed that he has lost the opportunity to continue to work with them. This weekend he suffered a minor setback…and was checked into the Newport Hospital. When I visited with him on Saturday he was waiting on a friend to bring him some food and griping about the hospital, so he is clearly doing quite well. I will check in with him today and continue to visit with him as long as we are here in Newport.
The Team: I had a letter from the Major this weekend that described how the team was coping with recent events. I’ll let his words tell their story — “It’s the day after our memorial service for [the Lieutenant]. I do feel like it provided some closure for us about all of the losses we took. The last week reminded me of a portion of one of the wolf shows we’ve watched. I recall the part where one wolf has died and there is no play in the pack for almost two weeks. It’s been like that around here since April 29th. Everyone still moved about their business but the smiles and joking around were gone. Shortly after the memorial, once we were back home I heard laughing in the other room. One of the new guys had done something dumb, I don’t even know what it was, but the guys were teasing him mercilessly. I knew then that we were moving along.”
Doc’s medical condition took a turn for the worse in the following weeks. The reality of the physical trauma from his wounds was more serious than initially expected. As well, the suffering of his family, of watching him in pain, of not knowing what would happen, was tremendous.
02 June 2007
Hello all,
I called down to Bethesda today — I had sent a package (cake and brownies, and a few other items), and I wanted to check on whether it had arrived. I had expected to have a nice little chat with Doc and his family. Unfortunately, in the last few days there have been complications with his condition. He has had a fever, is on a feeding tube, and is sleeping a fair bit. I neither want to be excessively morose and pessimistic, nor do I want to give the impression that this is insignificant. The fact of the matter is that his original injuries were extensive and serious, and the process of recovery is difficult (if not something just shy of miraculous). As for me, I refuse to believe that we have come so far in this not to have a good outcome. I spent a fair bit of time speaking with his mother, and while she is worried (she’s his mother, after all), she remains nothing but steadfast in her certitude that things will resolve themselves in a positive fashion, full stop.
I have let the Major know the situation….
Finally, I am certain that this will wear heavily on the guys, so reach out to them as well.
My best to you all,
Jill
They would continue in the vein through June, and it was only by July that the certainty of his recovery was a comfortable fact.
The Lance Corporal, though the least seriously wounded, struggled with his return home. Late one night he called me, in distress. He had gone out with friends and found civilian obliviousness a crushing contrast to his military and deployed experience. I knew the Lieutenant with whom he had served, so I wrote this message to him in Fallujah.
13 June 2007
Hello,
I hope this finds you doing well… or, well enough for a guy doing duty at “the Rock”. I suppose it would be terribly mean of me to tell you about the brilliantly mild spring we’re enjoying here in Newport — I don’t think we’ve gotten over 70 yet, and right now it’s almost chilly! Well, the weather in Pendleton should be nice for your return, so you have that to look forward to.
Seriously, though, I wanted to let you know that [your Lance Corporal is] having a bit of a hard time being away from the unit. He called me just a little while ago, needing to talk to someone who had some sort of a clue — he’s feeling a bit guilty for not being there for you guys, and is generally pissed at the run of the mill selfish civilians. Anyway, if you can keep after him, giving him a call now and then, I think it would be good. If you could get [his buddy] to call, that would be good too. I’ll do what I can, but the Major’s wife is not quite the same thing as a fellow Marine.
Oh, and I had a good laugh over the ruckus my having him sit in the Major’s seat for dinner has caused. You guys are relentless!
Sorry to hear that you missed the birthday party… I hope you’ve given the Major a hard time about it!….
Best, Jill
I would continue to have the Lance Corporal to dinner throughout that spring, to include a birthday dinner. He tried to be annoyed that I had informed the team of his struggles with having been taken from them and sent home, but I have the distinct impression that was only for show.
Only gathered and stood up for the deployment, at the end the remaining members of the unit dispersed upon their return to Camp Pendleton back to their home units. [6] By that time Doc and the Lance Corporal were well on their paths to recovery. But the events and losses of that day in April will stay with them and their families always.
At the beginning of this piece I suggested that more people “should” be aware of this facet of war. Reflecting with the humility such events demand, I might correct that now to say that they deserve to know.
Notes:
[1] To give a sense of the significance of the event for the unit and the families, the core unit lost two of its original 11 members. The third casualty was from the ranks of the augmentees the unit received in country.
[2] In the first months of the deployment there was an issue with feeding. Ironic given that subsistence and logistics are the subjects of my dissertation. Essentially the FOB system could not serve them in their location, they could not get to the FOB regularly and the unit was not stood up with organic feeding capabilities. Putting this information out to the families and friends we more than compensated for the deficiencies with a deluge of care packages. A modern iteration of the Berlin Airlift. After about 3 months of ideas that did not work, the Marine command in Fallujah sent a messman from another unit to cook them one hot meal a day. I liked this old school solution.
[3] He was clear on his professionalism, emblematic in that he was field grade professional military education in the UK, and that although he had been wounded by Marines in Desert Storm he dismissed that as the cost of war and worked quite successfully with the training team and Marine units assigned to Fallujah.
[4] Ironically, I recall that weekend being particularly aggrieved to have to listen to a retired General opine – incorrectly, in my opinion and experience – on what affected the morale of military families. I may have had an exuberant conversation or two with colleagues at the conference about what general officers know of the home-front experience – less than most expect – and I still maintain that position.
[5] I have tried and failed to find an authoritative explanation for this term.
[6] Several months later more than half of them would volunteer to join another MTT deployment with the Major.