Today is an
important day. More important than a birthday. More important than a holiday.
Twenty years ago this past June I graduated high school. The class of 1995.
Summer vacation, then a closing of that volume of my life. August 23, 1995 I
arrived at Parris Island, South Carolina. 18 years old. This was the beginning
of the next volume. It opened with me nervous, tired, confused, and shivering
as I began the process of becoming a United States Marine. Boot camp. 3rd Recruit Training Battalion. A place
where I was pushed harder than I had ever been pushed before to become
something I thought at times was an impossibility.
I graduated from boot camp
on November 10, 1995, the Marine Corps’ 220th birthday.
Two months later, after Basic Warrior Training at Camp Lejeune,
North Carolina, I find myself Camp Johnson, North Carolina, for Military
Occupational Specialty (MOS) school. Apparently
in my Service Record Book my original occupation was supposed to be field
artillery, but that had a large “X” over it. Beneath it was a different MOS;
Motor Transport Basic Automotive Organizational Mechanic. 3521.
We all lived in squad bays while waiting to be
picked up for the next available class for school. There was a guy that with a
huge boom box in his wall locker. I remember him playing some Eric B. and
Rakim. He kept to himself. When we were finally picked up for school and were
selecting roommates the people I thought I would room with selected each other
and I was the odd man out, kind of like being the last one picked at dodge ball.
The guy that had the boom box in his wall locker said, “You can be with us.”
His name was J. Dudley. I became roommates with him, M. Evangelista,
and E. Hernandez-Sandoval. Oh, the stories from that brief time at school.
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| A picture of the my barracks back in the day at Motor Transport Mechanics School at Camp Johnson. The room on the 1st floor above the bush on the far right was mine. |
There was something called a “Dream Sheet.” Once done with
school you were allowed to select where you preferred to be stationed: East
Coast, West Coast, or overseas. Basically, east coast put you in the Camp
Lejeune, North Carolina area, west coast put you over at Camp Pendleton,
California, and overseas sent you to Japan. For years I had wanted to go to
Japan. I was into the whole “anime thing” years before it became mainstream. I
remember having the “Dream Sheet” placed in front of me. I remember seeing the
options: East coast, West coast, Overseas. I remember telling myself mentally, “Don’t
fuck this up!” Like in an old cartoon there was a dotted line that went from my
eye to the “Overseas” option. This was one of the reasons why I decided to join
the Marine Corps, to go overseas, to get to Japan. This was the moment where I
could make my dream of going to Japan come true. I took a mental snapshot of
the moment. I still remember the excitement I was feeling as I made sure that
with that pen in my hand I circled the word, “Overseas.”
July, 1996. I remember being at airports, making my way
across the US. I boarded a flight to Osaka, Japan. From there another one to
Okinawa, Japan. Okinawa is a small island group south of Japan. The main island is 16 miles long and only 3 miles across at is narrowest point. What happened on these flights eludes me as I was so excited that
my dreams of going to Japan were coming to fruition that I think I may have mentally
blacked out. I remember the voice of the flight attendant as she spoke Japanese. Her voice sounded so "cartoonish" and cute.
I remember being on a bus from the airport to Camp Foster. I remember seeing
the buildings, neon signs, everything, being in Japanese. Then again, mental
blackout. My next memory is being at Camp Foster looking for the PX. I had made
my way up a road that took me to the top of a hill near one of the gates. From
here I looked down and I could see the town outside of Camp Foster, I could see
the East China Sea, and above the clouds were enormous in a beautiful blue sky.
It was my first day on Okinawa and while taking in this breathtaking view I
said to myself, “I’m never going to leave this place.” At the time it was mandatory
to have one overseas tour per enlistment. One year overseas, the other three
somewhere stateside. While some people dreaded going to Japan I loved it. I extended my time in Okinawa twice, for a
total of three years which took up the entirety of my first enlistment in the
Marine Corps. When it was time to leave I had to pretty much be forced to go.
They guy in administration said to me, “You only have a week left in the Marine
Corps!” If I could have stayed beyond that I would have.
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| I fell in love with Okinawa. Such a beautiful place. |
My first duty station on Okinawa was Camp Hansen. Located next to the town of Kin, it was north of Camp
Foster and kind of like in the middle of the island. 7th
Communication Battalion, Headquarters and Service Company, Motor Transport
Platoon. While checking in who do I run into out of all people? J. Dudley.
He was checking to the same unit and conveniently “lost” his check in sheet so
that we could check in together. Dudley was a year older than me and took me
under his wing. My knowledge of the world was limited to Orangeburg, South
Carolina, boot camp, and the little “exposure” I received in Jacksonville,
North Carolina. I look up to him as a big brother and credit him for a majority of the molding that made me into the individual that I am today. During a time when I was new to the world
and could have been influenced to go many different directions or have taken
different courses of action Dudley gave knowledge, direction, and friendship. I
can give him accolades all day and still won’t be able to express my gratitude
for him being instrumental at me becoming the person I am today. He is the one
person that I would unquestionably follow into the gates of hell. Man, there
are stories of our adventures on Okinawa… but I’ll save those for another day.
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| Kin-cho, outside of Camp Hansen. Okinawa, Japan. |
As a matter of fact there were many more stories of my time
on Okinawa. Many people. But only a few who from that time who I consider
family. J., Kanae, Mizuki. Family.
August 1999. Back home in Orangeburg, SC. While it felt good
to be away from the demands of Marine Corps life I felt like I had fallen into
a rut. My mother said to me, “There’s nothing going on here, you need to go
back.” For that and other reasons I made my way back to the recruiting station,
and four months after leaving the Marines I re-enlisted. My intention was to
get back to Okinawa, but that wasn’t happening at the moment. I settled on the
west coast, Camp Pendleton, California.
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| 53 Area, Camp Horno, Camp Pendleton, California. |
February 2000. 1st Marine Division, 1st
Marine Regiment, Headquarters Company, Motor Transport Platoon. Camp Horno. 53
Area. Everything good and everything bad about the Marine Corps occurred here. I
worked alongside some of the greatest Marines I have ever known, up and down
the ranks. I became the Color Sergeant for the 1st Marine Regiment. My picture hung in the entrance to the
Regimental Headquarters next to large display case honoring Lewis “Chesty”
Puller. I started as the guy that carried the Marine Corps Colors, and with 1st
Marines being a highly decorated regiment the colors were very heavy from the
amount of streamers that were attached to the flag. I then moved on to becoming
the actual Color Sergeant, the guy who carried the National Ensign, or American
Flag. One of the single most motivating and rewarding things I have ever done
in my life. I felt like Denzel Washington’s character towards the end of the
movie Glory.
This is also where I came across a lot of the power-trippers,
assholes, backstabbers, and buddy-fuckers that made being in the Marine Corps
miserable. I don’t want to waste time and energy talking about these people. I
once had a picture of one asshole in particular with and arrow and caption that
read: #1 Reason for NOT Re-Enlisting. While I should have been able to see that
this individual was only a temporary problem, just the thought of encountering
and having to deal with any other assholes like him corrupted my view of the
Marine Corps and completely dashed any thought of making it a possible career.
September 2001. I was working as the clerk in the tool room.
That morning I turned on the TV and saw a live report about an airplane
crashing into a building in New York. I had a radio in the tool checkout window
that was broadcasting the events of that morning. The confirmation of it being
a terror attack put the base on full alert. I remember saying, “If that
building falls we are going to war.”
Both things happened.
January 2003. 40 days and 40 nights aboard the LHD Boxer 4 in
route to Kuwait. Went ashore in February, right into a sandstorm. We played the
waiting game until President Bush gave us the green light.
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| USS Boxer (LHD 4). |
War is hell…
You may serve with many units but you never forget the unit
with which you first saw combat. I told my guys that once we get back and
everyone is safe and sound I will be done with the Marine Corps. I don’t want
to venture any further into this subject. It takes me to a dark place.
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| D. Caudle, C. Kaczmarczyk, C. Jardin, B. Evans (Me), D. Sadler (front). Baghdad, Iraq. April 2003 |
October 2003. I had saved up a certain number of leave days
and used them towards getting out of the Marine Corps early. It’s called
terminal leave. My time was up at the end of December, but I used those days to
get out in October instead. With there not being a solidly trained replacement Color
Sergeant in place so close to the Marine Corps Ball, the Regimental Sergeant
Major was a bit wary about signing my checkout sheet. I promised him that I
would come back and do the ball. It was the craziest thing to show up to Marine
Corps Ball Ceremony practice with a goatee. No one could really say anything, I
was on terminal leave, practically out of the Corps, and came back on my own to
do the ball. That was my last obligation to the Corps.
 | |
| Motor Transport Platoon, Marine Corps Ball, November 2003. Me on far left wearing Color Guard harness. |
I look back on it all now. A brief period of 8 years and the
12 years that followed. There’s A LOT of stuff I omitted from this past 20
years. A LOT. I wonder what life would be like had I decided not to go into the
military. I could not, would not allow myself to stay in my hometown and work
at a plant. I wonder what life would be
like if I had decided to join another branch of service. Maybe I would be
satisfied, but I would always wonder if I would have been good enough to join
the Marines. I wonder what if I had stayed in the Marine Corps… Would I have
made it to 20 years? Could I have died in some overseas operation? I have a
family now. They would not exist had I taken another path. I can question every
decision made and only come up with more questions, or I can be grateful for
the people and experiences that have molded me into the individual I am today.
There are some who do not have this luxury. For them, for my family, for myself
I continue on. I can only imagine what the next 20 years will bring. For such a
life changing series of events does life go from being set in volumes to becoming
a B.C. /A.D. time setting? The Marine Corps has given and continues to give me
something greater than any fraternity, club, congregation, organization, or
ensemble could ever amount. My brothers, my sisters, my family. We few, we
happy few, we band of brothers. What an honor it is to be included amongst your
ranks.
Semper Fidelis.
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