thedrifter
04-25-06, 06:25 PM
Return to America
By Emily Slater
The Adobe Press
Patrols became more intense and the firefights close to deadly as Brandon
Rehorn’s tour in Iraq neared its end.
Besides dodging more bullets, Marines also put more pressure on the insurgents — closing parts of the city to complete sweeps in their search for those who sought to kill them.
A couple of weeks before going home, Brandon’s platoon discovered and arrested a sniper responsible for 30 Coalition kills, curled up behind a stack of 50 foam mattresses. Later, the sniper gave the Marines intelligence information and names of other insurgents.
Countless other insurgents would remain active in Ramadi, though, killing four times the number of Marines they had eliminated from Brandon’s battalion.
Meanwhile, Brandon would have to adjust to a life far different than the one to which he had grown accustomed. The Marine would no longer have to search for roadside bombs, battle ghostly snipers or endure blistering temperatures. Instead, he would find himself among crowds, eating Chicken McNuggets and inhaling the scent of grass for the first time in seven months.
He would receive both thanks and insults from people he believed he had protected while in the Middle East.
Left behind on final patrol
During Brandon’s last patrol, snipers targeted his squad for more than 30 hours. The Marines had been on a “leave-behind” mission, where they visited a house and made it appear they were leaving. In reality, they would wait for the insurgents to enter the house and interrogate its residents. Then, Marines could nab the insurgents.
The Marines waited until morning to leave the house — part of the plan — and began flagging down drivers so the soldiers could search cars in their hunt for smugglers and wanted insurgents on the “list.”
During the search, a shot landed between Brandon and another Marine.
“He was aiming at you,” they both told each other and fled inside.
Squad members spent the next 30 hours holed up in the house, poking their heads outside to determine if snipers had disappeared. Each time they peered out, they were fired upon.
While they waited, the Marines sent out children, who lived in the house, to bring them ice cream and fruit drinks, a mission the children were eager to fulfill.
Once they were able to shake snipers, the Marines provided security for a convoy passing through on its way to search for IEDs. Then, the soldiers called their battalion to pick them up. Superiors refused, as they believed it was a setup in which insurgents were waiting to blow up support vehicles.
Brandon’s reaction to the refusal: “You guys suck.”
The squad waited until 2 a.m., and began walking back to their base. They trekked about five miles before they were able to hitch a ride on a truck.
“I was dog tired from being in the city fending for myself. I vaguely remember walking back. I was probably sleepwalking.”
His last night at Camp Snake Pit, Brandon dodged his last round of bullets inside the “suicide post,” the lookout Marines said was a bullet magnet. Snipers could target the post from all sides, and Marines had a difficult time spotting them and fighting back.
“We could only fire back from one position. We couldn’t fire behind us. They could shoot in, but we couldn’t shoot out. We were the biggest targets in the world.”
During his watch, insurgents shot through a hole and the bullets hit the concrete behind Brandon. Concrete blew up, glass shattered and Brandon ducked behind a pile of sandbags.
While joining the infantry put Brandon on the front lines, he said he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“I’m grateful I was in the position and not someone else. I would much rather have it be me than anyone else in my family or anywhere. I felt confident in the position I was in.”
One of the prices Brandon paid to serve was an injury he sustained during the last month of his tour. Trying to escape enemy fire while he was standing on a wall, he jumped on a chicken coop, slid and tried to break his fall with his left hand. The impact caused a tear in the cartilage of his shoulder and the onset of rotator cuff tendonitis.
Brandon started physical therapy earlier this year and is currently waiting for a surgery date.
One of the most appealing aspects of going home for Brandon was that he wouldn’t be shot at for nine months.
“That’s pretty exciting.”
The Marine would also get to see his family and eat at McDonald’s — two of the things he missed the most while in the Middle East.
“Leaving Iraq was the best day of my life. I was lucky to be alive.”
The battalion replacing Brandon’s contained about 20 combat veterans. The rest of the soldiers had never been to the Middle East.
“They thought they knew what they were doing, though. To date, they have lost 60 Marines in three months. Our battalion lost 16 in seven months. That unit was replaced because they were deemed combat ineffective. They no longer had enough manpower to do what they were doing.”
Brandon’s experience in the Middle East changed his world view, in that he witnessed the ugly side of humanity.
“I didn’t know there were those kinds of people out there, religious fanatics raised to think religion is the most important thing. If they (blow themselves up), they believe they will go to heaven. That’s what motivated them. They believe in (their cause) enough to give their life to it. I thought they were crazy. So crazy.”
Homecoming
When the Marines arrived back at Camp Pendleton, Brandon checked in his weapon he had carried every day for seven months.
“It was probably the happiest moment, giving it up, but it was weird walking around without it. Cool but weird.”
Upon their arrival at the base, members of Brandon’s company organized into formation, walked onto the parade deck in front of family members and friends and were dismissed.
Brandon’s first sighting was a sign his mom had made: “Welcome home, my baby boy.”
“I told my mom not to do that,” Brandon said, laughing.
After the ceremony, he surprised his wife, who was waiting for his call at their home in Oceanside; Brandon had not told her he was coming home that day.
“I knocked on the door and she didn’t know what to do. I surprised the hell out of her.”
Chelsea, who was impatiently awaiting word from Brandon,
didn’t recognize her husband.
“At 3:30, there was no phone call from Brandon; I started *****ing to my mom on the phone when someone knocked on the door,” she recalled. “It was a Marine in full uniform. I asked him, ‘What?’ I thought it was a Marine wanting help.”
When she realized it was her husband, Chelsea dropped the phone.
Chelsea was ecstatic her husband was home, but said he was initially reticent to converse.
“He didn’t want to talk,” she said. “He would tell me what I wanted to know, but he just didn’t want to talk. He would rather sit in silence. ‘Let’s just sit here,’ he would say. I don’t think he realized he was home.”
Chelsea said it took Brandon about two weeks to relax.
While he knew he was home safe, visions from Ramadi haunted Brandon.
“I had nightmares when I first got back. I still have them every now and again about what we did while we were over there. The fact that I’m dreaming about what we did there scares the hell out of me.”
Recently, one of the Marines from his company was admitted to a hospital for post-traumatic stress disorder. The battalion received instruction about the disorder while in Iraq, but none of the Marines really took it seriously, according to Brandon.
The Marine doesn’t believe he suffers from the disorder. Still, he has had to adapt and adjust to life outside a combat zone.
“It’s weird walking around. I missed having a gun on me. I always had a weapon bouncing on my leg. It felt like being naked, being without my gun.
“Being around a lot of people was weird. At Wal-Mart, my eyes were grabbing people’s faces. When in Iraq, we tried to keep kids around, but we didn’t want adults around. We would always keep eyes on adults that were anywhere near.
“When I hear a loud noise on the base, or fireworks, it grabs my attention really fast. Gunshots don’t freak me out, but I notice them a lot more.”
In general, life is much more quiet for Brandon.
A few months ago, he was standing post in a city filled with snipers; now he is barred from training because of his injury.
He has had plenty of time to reflect on the loss and purpose that defined his tour in Iraq.
Missing his job
Brandon attended an emotional memorial service for those killed in his battalion soon after returning to the United States. His friend and company commander, Capt. John W. Maloney, was honored during the ceremony.
“Our battalion came back and we had 16 less Marines. Finally, we had time to think about it, as we were so busy trying to keep other people alive (in Iraq).”
Brandon also found himself missing his job.
“I liked shooting and blowing stuff up. I had fun with the guys over there. I saw no effect of what we were doing at the time, but when we realized what we were doing — the bigger picture — I saw more of a purpose.
“I have a different perspective on what is really going on. Whether I agree with what is going on, I would go back in a heartbeat if I can help bring someone back safe.”
Currently, Brandon is nondeployable because of his shoulder. He says there’s a 50-50 chance he will not deploy with his battalion when they head out again this summer.
“I don’t mind (about going or staying). I am more worried about my shoulder; I want it to get healed.”
At this point, Brandon said his battalion will likely return to the Middle East or embark on a boat tour to Japan and the Philippines.
“I would rather go to Iraq. It’s so boring on the boat. I would also save money (going to Iraq).”
Lori Martin said the thought of her son returning to the Middle East makes her sick.
“But I understand that he feels he’s fulfilling a purpose when he is abroad,” she said. “What else do they do? Their primary job is combat.”
A future after the Marines
Brandon is enlisted until February 2008. Right now, he doesn’t believe he will re-enlist.
“After I get out of the Marines, I want to handle weapons, but I don’t want to be in the field.”
For Brandon, the “field” means anything that would take him away from his family or involve much training. In the Marines, he said, “Eighty percent is waiting; 20 percent is doing fun stuff. I don’t like waiting to do stuff.”
Brandon thinks he may want to be a weapons instructor for the California Highway Patrol or transport nuclear weapons for the Department of Energy — a position for which government officials are currently hiring Marines.
Lori believes her son will, one day, attend college. She knows, though, his fascination with guns will not likely disappear.
“It’s not a dangerous or morbid fascination,” she said. “It’s like me being into horses. Now, go find something safe.”
On the defense — at home
Since returning from Iraq, the Marine has received both gratitude and criticism from his fellow citizens.
Many offer their thanks; some buy meals for him and pay for his drinks.
Others berate Brandon — and his family — for his association with the Marines and the role he played in the Middle East.
On one occasion, Brandon went to lunch, off base at a Jack in the Box, dressed in camouflage.
“A guy called us murderers. We said, ‘Thanks,’ got our food and got out.”
Brandon has also been flipped off on the freeway because his Marine cap, called a “cover,” sits on the top of his back seat.
“I just ignore it. Let it go. Don’t let it bug me. People say stupid stuff. I let it go in one ear and out the other.”
A woman in a parking lot once asked Brandon’s wife, who has a Marine bumper sticker on her car, if she was married to a Marine and if her husband was serving in the Middle East.
After Chelsea’s affirmation, the woman said, “How can you live with yourself knowing you are married to a killer?”
Chelsea responded, “‘How can you live with yourself knowing you are ignorant? You’ll never understand my position or my husband’s.’
“I don’t want to fight with them. I just look at them and say, ‘He’s not a killer to me.’”
When Lori donned her Marine clothing during her son’s tour to Iraq, people told her the Marines are “killing innocent people.”
“It doesn’t make me look at Brandon differently,” Lori said. “It makes me look at the person making the comment. I need them to know their comment is allowed because Brandon is there. You get to make that comment to me in a public place because he is there. It makes me more proud of my son.
“I don’t want my son to be a name that people remember. He just went over and did his duty. Brandon doesn’t need a stranger to shake his hand, but when it happens, he lights up like the Fourth of July.”
Ellie
By Emily Slater
The Adobe Press
Patrols became more intense and the firefights close to deadly as Brandon
Rehorn’s tour in Iraq neared its end.
Besides dodging more bullets, Marines also put more pressure on the insurgents — closing parts of the city to complete sweeps in their search for those who sought to kill them.
A couple of weeks before going home, Brandon’s platoon discovered and arrested a sniper responsible for 30 Coalition kills, curled up behind a stack of 50 foam mattresses. Later, the sniper gave the Marines intelligence information and names of other insurgents.
Countless other insurgents would remain active in Ramadi, though, killing four times the number of Marines they had eliminated from Brandon’s battalion.
Meanwhile, Brandon would have to adjust to a life far different than the one to which he had grown accustomed. The Marine would no longer have to search for roadside bombs, battle ghostly snipers or endure blistering temperatures. Instead, he would find himself among crowds, eating Chicken McNuggets and inhaling the scent of grass for the first time in seven months.
He would receive both thanks and insults from people he believed he had protected while in the Middle East.
Left behind on final patrol
During Brandon’s last patrol, snipers targeted his squad for more than 30 hours. The Marines had been on a “leave-behind” mission, where they visited a house and made it appear they were leaving. In reality, they would wait for the insurgents to enter the house and interrogate its residents. Then, Marines could nab the insurgents.
The Marines waited until morning to leave the house — part of the plan — and began flagging down drivers so the soldiers could search cars in their hunt for smugglers and wanted insurgents on the “list.”
During the search, a shot landed between Brandon and another Marine.
“He was aiming at you,” they both told each other and fled inside.
Squad members spent the next 30 hours holed up in the house, poking their heads outside to determine if snipers had disappeared. Each time they peered out, they were fired upon.
While they waited, the Marines sent out children, who lived in the house, to bring them ice cream and fruit drinks, a mission the children were eager to fulfill.
Once they were able to shake snipers, the Marines provided security for a convoy passing through on its way to search for IEDs. Then, the soldiers called their battalion to pick them up. Superiors refused, as they believed it was a setup in which insurgents were waiting to blow up support vehicles.
Brandon’s reaction to the refusal: “You guys suck.”
The squad waited until 2 a.m., and began walking back to their base. They trekked about five miles before they were able to hitch a ride on a truck.
“I was dog tired from being in the city fending for myself. I vaguely remember walking back. I was probably sleepwalking.”
His last night at Camp Snake Pit, Brandon dodged his last round of bullets inside the “suicide post,” the lookout Marines said was a bullet magnet. Snipers could target the post from all sides, and Marines had a difficult time spotting them and fighting back.
“We could only fire back from one position. We couldn’t fire behind us. They could shoot in, but we couldn’t shoot out. We were the biggest targets in the world.”
During his watch, insurgents shot through a hole and the bullets hit the concrete behind Brandon. Concrete blew up, glass shattered and Brandon ducked behind a pile of sandbags.
While joining the infantry put Brandon on the front lines, he said he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“I’m grateful I was in the position and not someone else. I would much rather have it be me than anyone else in my family or anywhere. I felt confident in the position I was in.”
One of the prices Brandon paid to serve was an injury he sustained during the last month of his tour. Trying to escape enemy fire while he was standing on a wall, he jumped on a chicken coop, slid and tried to break his fall with his left hand. The impact caused a tear in the cartilage of his shoulder and the onset of rotator cuff tendonitis.
Brandon started physical therapy earlier this year and is currently waiting for a surgery date.
One of the most appealing aspects of going home for Brandon was that he wouldn’t be shot at for nine months.
“That’s pretty exciting.”
The Marine would also get to see his family and eat at McDonald’s — two of the things he missed the most while in the Middle East.
“Leaving Iraq was the best day of my life. I was lucky to be alive.”
The battalion replacing Brandon’s contained about 20 combat veterans. The rest of the soldiers had never been to the Middle East.
“They thought they knew what they were doing, though. To date, they have lost 60 Marines in three months. Our battalion lost 16 in seven months. That unit was replaced because they were deemed combat ineffective. They no longer had enough manpower to do what they were doing.”
Brandon’s experience in the Middle East changed his world view, in that he witnessed the ugly side of humanity.
“I didn’t know there were those kinds of people out there, religious fanatics raised to think religion is the most important thing. If they (blow themselves up), they believe they will go to heaven. That’s what motivated them. They believe in (their cause) enough to give their life to it. I thought they were crazy. So crazy.”
Homecoming
When the Marines arrived back at Camp Pendleton, Brandon checked in his weapon he had carried every day for seven months.
“It was probably the happiest moment, giving it up, but it was weird walking around without it. Cool but weird.”
Upon their arrival at the base, members of Brandon’s company organized into formation, walked onto the parade deck in front of family members and friends and were dismissed.
Brandon’s first sighting was a sign his mom had made: “Welcome home, my baby boy.”
“I told my mom not to do that,” Brandon said, laughing.
After the ceremony, he surprised his wife, who was waiting for his call at their home in Oceanside; Brandon had not told her he was coming home that day.
“I knocked on the door and she didn’t know what to do. I surprised the hell out of her.”
Chelsea, who was impatiently awaiting word from Brandon,
didn’t recognize her husband.
“At 3:30, there was no phone call from Brandon; I started *****ing to my mom on the phone when someone knocked on the door,” she recalled. “It was a Marine in full uniform. I asked him, ‘What?’ I thought it was a Marine wanting help.”
When she realized it was her husband, Chelsea dropped the phone.
Chelsea was ecstatic her husband was home, but said he was initially reticent to converse.
“He didn’t want to talk,” she said. “He would tell me what I wanted to know, but he just didn’t want to talk. He would rather sit in silence. ‘Let’s just sit here,’ he would say. I don’t think he realized he was home.”
Chelsea said it took Brandon about two weeks to relax.
While he knew he was home safe, visions from Ramadi haunted Brandon.
“I had nightmares when I first got back. I still have them every now and again about what we did while we were over there. The fact that I’m dreaming about what we did there scares the hell out of me.”
Recently, one of the Marines from his company was admitted to a hospital for post-traumatic stress disorder. The battalion received instruction about the disorder while in Iraq, but none of the Marines really took it seriously, according to Brandon.
The Marine doesn’t believe he suffers from the disorder. Still, he has had to adapt and adjust to life outside a combat zone.
“It’s weird walking around. I missed having a gun on me. I always had a weapon bouncing on my leg. It felt like being naked, being without my gun.
“Being around a lot of people was weird. At Wal-Mart, my eyes were grabbing people’s faces. When in Iraq, we tried to keep kids around, but we didn’t want adults around. We would always keep eyes on adults that were anywhere near.
“When I hear a loud noise on the base, or fireworks, it grabs my attention really fast. Gunshots don’t freak me out, but I notice them a lot more.”
In general, life is much more quiet for Brandon.
A few months ago, he was standing post in a city filled with snipers; now he is barred from training because of his injury.
He has had plenty of time to reflect on the loss and purpose that defined his tour in Iraq.
Missing his job
Brandon attended an emotional memorial service for those killed in his battalion soon after returning to the United States. His friend and company commander, Capt. John W. Maloney, was honored during the ceremony.
“Our battalion came back and we had 16 less Marines. Finally, we had time to think about it, as we were so busy trying to keep other people alive (in Iraq).”
Brandon also found himself missing his job.
“I liked shooting and blowing stuff up. I had fun with the guys over there. I saw no effect of what we were doing at the time, but when we realized what we were doing — the bigger picture — I saw more of a purpose.
“I have a different perspective on what is really going on. Whether I agree with what is going on, I would go back in a heartbeat if I can help bring someone back safe.”
Currently, Brandon is nondeployable because of his shoulder. He says there’s a 50-50 chance he will not deploy with his battalion when they head out again this summer.
“I don’t mind (about going or staying). I am more worried about my shoulder; I want it to get healed.”
At this point, Brandon said his battalion will likely return to the Middle East or embark on a boat tour to Japan and the Philippines.
“I would rather go to Iraq. It’s so boring on the boat. I would also save money (going to Iraq).”
Lori Martin said the thought of her son returning to the Middle East makes her sick.
“But I understand that he feels he’s fulfilling a purpose when he is abroad,” she said. “What else do they do? Their primary job is combat.”
A future after the Marines
Brandon is enlisted until February 2008. Right now, he doesn’t believe he will re-enlist.
“After I get out of the Marines, I want to handle weapons, but I don’t want to be in the field.”
For Brandon, the “field” means anything that would take him away from his family or involve much training. In the Marines, he said, “Eighty percent is waiting; 20 percent is doing fun stuff. I don’t like waiting to do stuff.”
Brandon thinks he may want to be a weapons instructor for the California Highway Patrol or transport nuclear weapons for the Department of Energy — a position for which government officials are currently hiring Marines.
Lori believes her son will, one day, attend college. She knows, though, his fascination with guns will not likely disappear.
“It’s not a dangerous or morbid fascination,” she said. “It’s like me being into horses. Now, go find something safe.”
On the defense — at home
Since returning from Iraq, the Marine has received both gratitude and criticism from his fellow citizens.
Many offer their thanks; some buy meals for him and pay for his drinks.
Others berate Brandon — and his family — for his association with the Marines and the role he played in the Middle East.
On one occasion, Brandon went to lunch, off base at a Jack in the Box, dressed in camouflage.
“A guy called us murderers. We said, ‘Thanks,’ got our food and got out.”
Brandon has also been flipped off on the freeway because his Marine cap, called a “cover,” sits on the top of his back seat.
“I just ignore it. Let it go. Don’t let it bug me. People say stupid stuff. I let it go in one ear and out the other.”
A woman in a parking lot once asked Brandon’s wife, who has a Marine bumper sticker on her car, if she was married to a Marine and if her husband was serving in the Middle East.
After Chelsea’s affirmation, the woman said, “How can you live with yourself knowing you are married to a killer?”
Chelsea responded, “‘How can you live with yourself knowing you are ignorant? You’ll never understand my position or my husband’s.’
“I don’t want to fight with them. I just look at them and say, ‘He’s not a killer to me.’”
When Lori donned her Marine clothing during her son’s tour to Iraq, people told her the Marines are “killing innocent people.”
“It doesn’t make me look at Brandon differently,” Lori said. “It makes me look at the person making the comment. I need them to know their comment is allowed because Brandon is there. You get to make that comment to me in a public place because he is there. It makes me more proud of my son.
“I don’t want my son to be a name that people remember. He just went over and did his duty. Brandon doesn’t need a stranger to shake his hand, but when it happens, he lights up like the Fourth of July.”
Ellie