thedrifter
07-23-09, 07:47 AM
Learning to forget at Camp Lejeune
By Sara Schonhardt
"Welcome home" signs adorn the chain-link fence leading into Camp Lejeune, the Second Division Marine base in North Carolina where it seems that each day a new batch of troops is returning from overseas combat tours. "Sergeant Whitney, come meet your baby girl," one sign says.
Inside the base, people prepare a picnic for another homecoming party. Folding tables go up under white event tents, hot dogs sizzle on a grill, a cotton-candy machine starts spinning and Credence Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son fills the air.
It seems a fitting soundtrack for the story Sergeant Joe Buompastore has just finished telling. The tent, he said, resembles the one at the reception after he was awarded the Bronze Star for valor.
Since returning from Afghanistan in October, Buompastore has struggled to find some normality on a Marine base faced with increasing deployments and troops who are overextended. He is unsure of his next assignment but eager to stay at Camp Lejeune, because for him, like many marines, the base provides a cocoon he does not want to leave.
Buompastore is part of 1/6, 1st Battalion 6th Marines, a company known for securing Ramadi, central Iraq, in 2006. "Before we left we kept hearing it was one of the worst cities in Iraq," he said, drawing out the city's name so it sounded more like Ram-aaaa-di. That year, Buompastore missed all the holidays. After six months, the Marines extended his deployment as part of the 30,000-strong troop surge to Al Anbar province. He would have the same luck two years later in Afghanistan.
"I never get a break," he said, sucking in a long breath of air that revealed more than he could articulate.
In Iraq, Buompastore was a point man, which meant he led his squad on patrols. After several months without any injuries, he became team leader. "We didn't lose anybody. Nobody got hurt, not even a scratch. And then we got back and were considered combat veterans," he said.
Buompastore's battlefield experience has not been as trouble-free as he lets on. The extended deployments in both Iraq and Afghanistan took a toll on his morale, as did the death of a fellow Marine in the firefight where he won his medal for valor.
When recalling his most recent deployment, Buompastore talks easily about the food (terrible), the heat (scorching), the infrequent showering (done by a pump well). He hides the moments that provoke stronger emotion. Even getting him to talk about the battle for which won the Bronze Star honor requires coaxing, and when he does his words come out sounding mechanical.
Like many young but experienced soldiers, Buompastore, 24, whiplashes between painful memories of battle and newfound suburban life - days spent spinning around base blasting Linkin Park albums from his monster four-door Ford pick-up, and nights at home with his Marine wife, Faye.
The trouble with this arrangement is its instability. The North Carolina base replicates small-town life in America - there is a Burger King and Dunkin Doughnuts, a shopping mall with a food court that fills at lunch with men in khaki uniforms, and a liquor store that stocks US$150 bottles of Dom Perignon for those wanting to splurge at the end of their deployments.
At 1/6's Alpha Company headquarters, men share stories about their families or discuss weekend plans. They shuffle around metal desks filling out obligatory paperwork. Computer screens hold images of smiling babies or leggy brunettes.
"I like to get in a little PT [physical training] in the afternoon," said Buompastore, explaining a routine that starts at 6am when he takes attendance, includes some PT, and then often ends 10 hours later, when he heads home to make pork chops or mow the grass.
Occasionally, however, the sound of rifle fire cracks the silence, reminding these men that the safety of the base is only temporary. Olive-green supply trucks roll past the Dunkin Doughnuts, and men preparing for deployment leave their desks to shoot heavy artillery.
After returning from Iraq, Buompastore spent his days the same way. At night he courted Faye. The Marine settled back into life at Camp Lejeune just as then-secretary of state Donald Rumsfeld was calling for more troops in Afghanistan.
Buompastore's second deployment was grueling. When 1/6 arrived in southern Helmand province they moved for three days without stopping. They carried all their gear, around 68 kilograms of ammo, protective wear, and weapons, taking breaks to change socks and ease their backs from their burdens. "I came back skinny as hell," said Buompastore, whose already slender frame did not have far to go.
Buompastore's family was not part of the American military tradition - his grandfather had served in the Italian army and only one uncle was drafted to fight in Vietnam - but his father taught him discipline, and Buompastore liked the idea of joining the service. He chose the Marines, shortly after the September 11, 2001, attacks because he knew they would provide the physical challenge and mental restraint he wanted.
The Marine says he's proud to have done his duty, but he is also glad to be home. When I ask if he wants to go back he says no. When I ask why, he pulls from his wallet a picture of his wife.
Many Marines express unease about leaving their families and the safety of the base for the battlefield. Raymond Downen, petty officer third class, said he's eager to get the job done in Afghanistan and return to his children. Downen, an x-ray technician, has never been deployed in the 14 years he has served as a Marine. Because the war has been going on for so long, the Marines are now down to "slim pickins", he said.
Some are equally reluctant to go off active duty. Corporal Nathaniel Harris, who recently deployed to Afghanistan, said he never found pride in non-military work, even when he worked for himself. "I definitely missed the responsibility of leading a group of men," he said, comparing the base to a neighborhood where other kids are always around to play.
Buompastore explained the other benefits of being a Marine - free dental and health care, a decent salary and bonuses for extended deployments. "An extra few months in Iraq meant four extra paychecks," he said.
When it comes to the challenges, however, Buompastore speaks with practicality about saying goodbye to Afghan interpreters and village elders whose trust he gained over the course of his deployment.
"It's not like you're going back there for vacation," Buompastore said, pausing for affect. "Sometimes you have to learn to forget."
Learning to forget is not part of Marine training, but it might be one of the best ways for dealing with life after battle. The base is part of that coping mechanism. And at Camp Lejeune men know they're surrounded by others who have seen friends wounded and killed, even if they don't have to say so.
Sara Schonhardt is a New York-based freelance reporter and former editor for Asia Times Online.
Ellie
By Sara Schonhardt
"Welcome home" signs adorn the chain-link fence leading into Camp Lejeune, the Second Division Marine base in North Carolina where it seems that each day a new batch of troops is returning from overseas combat tours. "Sergeant Whitney, come meet your baby girl," one sign says.
Inside the base, people prepare a picnic for another homecoming party. Folding tables go up under white event tents, hot dogs sizzle on a grill, a cotton-candy machine starts spinning and Credence Clearwater Revival's Fortunate Son fills the air.
It seems a fitting soundtrack for the story Sergeant Joe Buompastore has just finished telling. The tent, he said, resembles the one at the reception after he was awarded the Bronze Star for valor.
Since returning from Afghanistan in October, Buompastore has struggled to find some normality on a Marine base faced with increasing deployments and troops who are overextended. He is unsure of his next assignment but eager to stay at Camp Lejeune, because for him, like many marines, the base provides a cocoon he does not want to leave.
Buompastore is part of 1/6, 1st Battalion 6th Marines, a company known for securing Ramadi, central Iraq, in 2006. "Before we left we kept hearing it was one of the worst cities in Iraq," he said, drawing out the city's name so it sounded more like Ram-aaaa-di. That year, Buompastore missed all the holidays. After six months, the Marines extended his deployment as part of the 30,000-strong troop surge to Al Anbar province. He would have the same luck two years later in Afghanistan.
"I never get a break," he said, sucking in a long breath of air that revealed more than he could articulate.
In Iraq, Buompastore was a point man, which meant he led his squad on patrols. After several months without any injuries, he became team leader. "We didn't lose anybody. Nobody got hurt, not even a scratch. And then we got back and were considered combat veterans," he said.
Buompastore's battlefield experience has not been as trouble-free as he lets on. The extended deployments in both Iraq and Afghanistan took a toll on his morale, as did the death of a fellow Marine in the firefight where he won his medal for valor.
When recalling his most recent deployment, Buompastore talks easily about the food (terrible), the heat (scorching), the infrequent showering (done by a pump well). He hides the moments that provoke stronger emotion. Even getting him to talk about the battle for which won the Bronze Star honor requires coaxing, and when he does his words come out sounding mechanical.
Like many young but experienced soldiers, Buompastore, 24, whiplashes between painful memories of battle and newfound suburban life - days spent spinning around base blasting Linkin Park albums from his monster four-door Ford pick-up, and nights at home with his Marine wife, Faye.
The trouble with this arrangement is its instability. The North Carolina base replicates small-town life in America - there is a Burger King and Dunkin Doughnuts, a shopping mall with a food court that fills at lunch with men in khaki uniforms, and a liquor store that stocks US$150 bottles of Dom Perignon for those wanting to splurge at the end of their deployments.
At 1/6's Alpha Company headquarters, men share stories about their families or discuss weekend plans. They shuffle around metal desks filling out obligatory paperwork. Computer screens hold images of smiling babies or leggy brunettes.
"I like to get in a little PT [physical training] in the afternoon," said Buompastore, explaining a routine that starts at 6am when he takes attendance, includes some PT, and then often ends 10 hours later, when he heads home to make pork chops or mow the grass.
Occasionally, however, the sound of rifle fire cracks the silence, reminding these men that the safety of the base is only temporary. Olive-green supply trucks roll past the Dunkin Doughnuts, and men preparing for deployment leave their desks to shoot heavy artillery.
After returning from Iraq, Buompastore spent his days the same way. At night he courted Faye. The Marine settled back into life at Camp Lejeune just as then-secretary of state Donald Rumsfeld was calling for more troops in Afghanistan.
Buompastore's second deployment was grueling. When 1/6 arrived in southern Helmand province they moved for three days without stopping. They carried all their gear, around 68 kilograms of ammo, protective wear, and weapons, taking breaks to change socks and ease their backs from their burdens. "I came back skinny as hell," said Buompastore, whose already slender frame did not have far to go.
Buompastore's family was not part of the American military tradition - his grandfather had served in the Italian army and only one uncle was drafted to fight in Vietnam - but his father taught him discipline, and Buompastore liked the idea of joining the service. He chose the Marines, shortly after the September 11, 2001, attacks because he knew they would provide the physical challenge and mental restraint he wanted.
The Marine says he's proud to have done his duty, but he is also glad to be home. When I ask if he wants to go back he says no. When I ask why, he pulls from his wallet a picture of his wife.
Many Marines express unease about leaving their families and the safety of the base for the battlefield. Raymond Downen, petty officer third class, said he's eager to get the job done in Afghanistan and return to his children. Downen, an x-ray technician, has never been deployed in the 14 years he has served as a Marine. Because the war has been going on for so long, the Marines are now down to "slim pickins", he said.
Some are equally reluctant to go off active duty. Corporal Nathaniel Harris, who recently deployed to Afghanistan, said he never found pride in non-military work, even when he worked for himself. "I definitely missed the responsibility of leading a group of men," he said, comparing the base to a neighborhood where other kids are always around to play.
Buompastore explained the other benefits of being a Marine - free dental and health care, a decent salary and bonuses for extended deployments. "An extra few months in Iraq meant four extra paychecks," he said.
When it comes to the challenges, however, Buompastore speaks with practicality about saying goodbye to Afghan interpreters and village elders whose trust he gained over the course of his deployment.
"It's not like you're going back there for vacation," Buompastore said, pausing for affect. "Sometimes you have to learn to forget."
Learning to forget is not part of Marine training, but it might be one of the best ways for dealing with life after battle. The base is part of that coping mechanism. And at Camp Lejeune men know they're surrounded by others who have seen friends wounded and killed, even if they don't have to say so.
Sara Schonhardt is a New York-based freelance reporter and former editor for Asia Times Online.
Ellie