thedrifter
04-01-03, 11:52 AM
A Marine who's been left behind
Lance Cpl. Matthew S. Richards
Commentary
While coverage of the front lines reaches an unprecedented level, and CNN becomes a virtual force in readiness, I cannot help but contrast the Marines deployed and those of us left behind.
I sit safely behind a desk, with an escalated workload, wearing three or four hats instead of one. There's no fear of bullets screaming over my head and no winds blowing down the walls of my barracks. I'm living comfortably in sunny Southern California, tucked safely into my bed at night, while my fellow Marines overseas brave blinding sandstorms, fierce insects, wee-hour sentry duty and danger.
The contrast makes me restless as I try to sleep.
I'm not a vicious person, intent on vengeance or champing at the bit to personally administer justice. I don't like the idea of having bullets whiz over my head. But an unknown desire calls me to stand among my brethren on the front lines.
Casual conversations tell me many base ---- in other words, nondeployable ---- Marines share my dilemma about staying safely behind in this wonderful atmosphere while our comrades endure such sacrifice.
Logically speaking, there is no reason why I should feel troubled about where I am. But emotionally, I feel the call of the warrior, even as I finger a keyboard and shuffle papers in my work space.
I love my job: designing the base newspaper so folks at home can stay abreast of what's going on here and on the front. At the same time, I feel inappropriately perturbed. Sometimes the feeling of security holds an uneasy sense in the heart of the determined.
Maybe that unease stems from my safety compared with the troops on the front, whose dreams are peppered with nostalgic dreams of spouses, children and friends left behind. Or maybe they suffer through nightmares about not returning home.
Thirty years from now, do you think they would trade places with me, to watch everyone around them leave for the front while they sit behind a desk?
For argument's sake, let's say I were to die at the ripe old age of 85, with an old wife, children and grandchildren. How would I feel holding the same title, "Marine," as a friend who died at 19 putting everything he had into the idea of America?
I'm happy to produce the newspaper and would not be doing it if everyone had stayed behind. Traffic on base and at the Px isn't as congested as before, and it's nice going home to a warm bed and hot shower every night.
There's a pleasant thought: Let's trade glory, pride and a sense of worth for temporary convenience. Let's sell out our principles for a few perks.
War is nothing to be romanticized. Gen. William T. Sherman, after his gloriously sadistic campaign through Georgia in the Civil War, said, "War is hell." And in my eyes, he couldn't have depicted it more accurately.
Yet myriad names whispered quietly in the tranquil winds that shuffle the sands of Iwo Jima hold infinite weight in the souls of those who realize their sacrifice. I see what they have done for their country and cannot help but feel awestruck.
I also am a Marine. I didn't choose to be a base Marine. The Corps chose where I am, and someone has to stay behind to support those deployed. Everyone does a part in the mission.
But the Marines I worked with, trained with, suffered with and learned from are on the front lines as I type and as you read. My instincts tell me I should be there shoulder to shoulder with them.
Don't get me wrong: I don't want to give my life for my country the first chance I get. But I love my country and will defend it if called upon. Not that my life now is without sacrifice, just like everyone who has ever worn this uniform.
Being a Marine is about the sacrifices we make for our country. Sure, the "hoorahs" and the "Semper Fis" sound great and can be motivating, but if you ask all Marines, deployable and nondeployable, what was the one thing they did that etched their name in the history of mankind ---- they would say, without a doubt, "sacrifice."
I can say I have a part in another war for the American way of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And for all those who disagree, shout anti-war slogans and demand world peace, what do they think we do this for? So we can suffer while sacrificing and killing our fellow man for our own enjoyment?
Take a step back and think about what this country was built upon and why. Countless American lives were sacrificed to preserve your right to protest and speak your mind. Today, countless more are just as committed as the ones before.
So I'll sit here behind my desk defending my country with my pen while others defend it with their lives. I have a part, and it's one that my mother is probably much happier I have.
Lance Cpl. Matthew S. Richards is news editor of The Scout, Camp Pendleton's weekly newspaper.
3/30/03
Sempers,
Roger
Lance Cpl. Matthew S. Richards
Commentary
While coverage of the front lines reaches an unprecedented level, and CNN becomes a virtual force in readiness, I cannot help but contrast the Marines deployed and those of us left behind.
I sit safely behind a desk, with an escalated workload, wearing three or four hats instead of one. There's no fear of bullets screaming over my head and no winds blowing down the walls of my barracks. I'm living comfortably in sunny Southern California, tucked safely into my bed at night, while my fellow Marines overseas brave blinding sandstorms, fierce insects, wee-hour sentry duty and danger.
The contrast makes me restless as I try to sleep.
I'm not a vicious person, intent on vengeance or champing at the bit to personally administer justice. I don't like the idea of having bullets whiz over my head. But an unknown desire calls me to stand among my brethren on the front lines.
Casual conversations tell me many base ---- in other words, nondeployable ---- Marines share my dilemma about staying safely behind in this wonderful atmosphere while our comrades endure such sacrifice.
Logically speaking, there is no reason why I should feel troubled about where I am. But emotionally, I feel the call of the warrior, even as I finger a keyboard and shuffle papers in my work space.
I love my job: designing the base newspaper so folks at home can stay abreast of what's going on here and on the front. At the same time, I feel inappropriately perturbed. Sometimes the feeling of security holds an uneasy sense in the heart of the determined.
Maybe that unease stems from my safety compared with the troops on the front, whose dreams are peppered with nostalgic dreams of spouses, children and friends left behind. Or maybe they suffer through nightmares about not returning home.
Thirty years from now, do you think they would trade places with me, to watch everyone around them leave for the front while they sit behind a desk?
For argument's sake, let's say I were to die at the ripe old age of 85, with an old wife, children and grandchildren. How would I feel holding the same title, "Marine," as a friend who died at 19 putting everything he had into the idea of America?
I'm happy to produce the newspaper and would not be doing it if everyone had stayed behind. Traffic on base and at the Px isn't as congested as before, and it's nice going home to a warm bed and hot shower every night.
There's a pleasant thought: Let's trade glory, pride and a sense of worth for temporary convenience. Let's sell out our principles for a few perks.
War is nothing to be romanticized. Gen. William T. Sherman, after his gloriously sadistic campaign through Georgia in the Civil War, said, "War is hell." And in my eyes, he couldn't have depicted it more accurately.
Yet myriad names whispered quietly in the tranquil winds that shuffle the sands of Iwo Jima hold infinite weight in the souls of those who realize their sacrifice. I see what they have done for their country and cannot help but feel awestruck.
I also am a Marine. I didn't choose to be a base Marine. The Corps chose where I am, and someone has to stay behind to support those deployed. Everyone does a part in the mission.
But the Marines I worked with, trained with, suffered with and learned from are on the front lines as I type and as you read. My instincts tell me I should be there shoulder to shoulder with them.
Don't get me wrong: I don't want to give my life for my country the first chance I get. But I love my country and will defend it if called upon. Not that my life now is without sacrifice, just like everyone who has ever worn this uniform.
Being a Marine is about the sacrifices we make for our country. Sure, the "hoorahs" and the "Semper Fis" sound great and can be motivating, but if you ask all Marines, deployable and nondeployable, what was the one thing they did that etched their name in the history of mankind ---- they would say, without a doubt, "sacrifice."
I can say I have a part in another war for the American way of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And for all those who disagree, shout anti-war slogans and demand world peace, what do they think we do this for? So we can suffer while sacrificing and killing our fellow man for our own enjoyment?
Take a step back and think about what this country was built upon and why. Countless American lives were sacrificed to preserve your right to protest and speak your mind. Today, countless more are just as committed as the ones before.
So I'll sit here behind my desk defending my country with my pen while others defend it with their lives. I have a part, and it's one that my mother is probably much happier I have.
Lance Cpl. Matthew S. Richards is news editor of The Scout, Camp Pendleton's weekly newspaper.
3/30/03
Sempers,
Roger