We just might be in the home stretch.
Yesterday we received word that my son’s Marine platoon is tentatively scheduled to arrive back in the States on April 15th. This means I have to hang on to my sanity for only 40 more days.
And nights — the hardest part.
One thing I can’t do is delude myself that all will be OK now, particularly after yesterday’s tragic report that nine more U.S. troops were lost in Iraq.
In fact, in the email sent out by my son’s platoon commander to family and friends, we were advised the following:
When you talk to your Marines, remind them to keep doing the little things right and to stay focused on the task at hand. The best thing you can do for us now is not burden them with plans when we return. I urge you to take care of as much of that as possible. Historically, the first and last months are the most critical for deploying units. The first month you are trying to figure out what is going on and the last month you think you know it all. I tell the platoon all the time that once you think you are the king, someone comes along and takes your throne.
Meanwhile an email from my son over the weekend confirmed that telling us "I’m fine" or "I had an interesting week but there’s really not much I can say about it" has very little relation to reality. I’m including parts of it here not to brag about My Son the Marine, though his bravery astounds me, but to provide further evidence that the images he’s seeing and the job he’s taken on could not be more alien to anything I’ve experienced in my 48 years of relatively cloistered existence.
It's also a reminder that despite high-profile horrors like Abu Ghraib and Haditha and other tragedies generated by the fog of war, the majority of our troops are hard-working grunts who are trying to do their job with honor and integrity.
"Well, it turns out I can occasionally be useful...," wrote my son. "Got this today in our monthly formation:
Certificate of Commendation
Commanding Officer, Task Force Military Police, xx Battalion, xxth Marine Regiment
Takes Pleasure in Commending
Lance Corporal xxxxxxx, USMC
For
Exceptional performance of duty while serving as a driver, xd Platoon, Battery x, xx Battalion, xxth Marine Regiment, Task Force Military Police, on 15 January 2007, in support of OIF 05-07.2. On this date, Lance Corporal xxxxxxx was the driver of the last vehicle in a convoy security team conducting an Iraqi Army leave rotation. When a bus carrying Iraqi soldiers was struck by an improvised explosive device, Lance Corporal xxxxxxx made his way on foot to the blast site, a distance of 1km. When he arrived on scene, Lance Corporal xxxxxxx extracted three wounded Iraqi soldiers from the wreckage of the destroyed bus. Lance Corporal xxxxxxx tirelessly moved multiple wounded Iraqis to the casualty collection point and loaded them on the medevac helicopters. Lance Corporal xxxxxxx also volunteered to help collect the dead and ensured that they were evaluated. Lance Corporal xxxxxxx’s professionalism, initiative, and total devotion to duty reflected credit upon him and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service.
Signed,
26 February 2007
xxxxxxxx
Lieutenant Colonel
Commanding
"Anyway, that’s what’s new with me ... I could talk about what happened there all night, but in the end I was just doing my job. I didn’t know what the situation was, so I took off running ... I had no idea what I was going to find. Hope you enjoyed the insight into my world. Love, X"
Though I’ve always appreciated my son’s dark sense of humor — hmm, where did it come from? — I’m not sure "enjoyed" fully describes my reaction to his news. More like shocked, dismayed, horrified, terrified, heartbroken.
This unnecessary, unprovoked war, waged through lies and deception, has exposed hundreds of thousands on all sides to shock (but not awe), dismay, horror, terror and heartbreak. And unfortunately, George W. Bush's determination to salvage his legacy via his "surge" of troops guarantees it will continue well beyond April 15th.
But at least I have a window of hope, in about 40 days, that my son and only child will return to tell of how he and his comrades in arms did their best to do an impossible job in an unwinnable war.