thedrifter
04-22-07, 07:33 AM
For families of Marines, long wait ends
Sunday, April 22, 2007
BY BRENDAN BERLS
Star-Ledger Staff
After seven months of uneasy nights and jittery phone calls, Ginnie Palmer had to wait a little longer.
Her son, Lance Cpl. Michael Palmer Jr., and the other 100 or so Marines in his unit were scheduled to arrive back in New Jersey yesterday at 3 p.m. after their first stint in Iraq.
But it's a long drive from North Carolina, where the unit has spent the last five days debriefing their seven-month tour of duty.
And as Ginnie and hundreds of other anxious relatives waited at a West Trenton armory for the Marines to arrive, 3 p.m. turned to 4 p.m.
Then 4 p.m. gave way to 5 p.m.
Still, she waited.
"It's been a long seven months," Ginnie Palmer said.
Then, sometime around 5:45 p.m., three charter buses rolled onto the armory grounds. The crowd cheered. The Marines filed out, then stood at attention.
A few politicians gave speeches. Relatives ached for long-overdue embraces.
Then, finally, a commander gave word, and the Marines broke ranks.
Husbands and wives kissed. Mothers hugged children. Fathers looked proud. One Marine held his 5-month-old daughter for the first time.
Somewhere in the bedlam, Ginnie Palmer hugged her son. And her waiting was over.
Ellie
Sunday, April 22, 2007
BY BRENDAN BERLS
Star-Ledger Staff
After seven months of uneasy nights and jittery phone calls, Ginnie Palmer had to wait a little longer.
Her son, Lance Cpl. Michael Palmer Jr., and the other 100 or so Marines in his unit were scheduled to arrive back in New Jersey yesterday at 3 p.m. after their first stint in Iraq.
But it's a long drive from North Carolina, where the unit has spent the last five days debriefing their seven-month tour of duty.
And as Ginnie and hundreds of other anxious relatives waited at a West Trenton armory for the Marines to arrive, 3 p.m. turned to 4 p.m.
Then 4 p.m. gave way to 5 p.m.
Still, she waited.
"It's been a long seven months," Ginnie Palmer said.
Then, sometime around 5:45 p.m., three charter buses rolled onto the armory grounds. The crowd cheered. The Marines filed out, then stood at attention.
A few politicians gave speeches. Relatives ached for long-overdue embraces.
Then, finally, a commander gave word, and the Marines broke ranks.
Husbands and wives kissed. Mothers hugged children. Fathers looked proud. One Marine held his 5-month-old daughter for the first time.
Somewhere in the bedlam, Ginnie Palmer hugged her son. And her waiting was over.
Ellie