Placing in this article in for cherrysupernerd...........



Tuesday, Feb. 11, 2003
Where Have All the Young Men Gone?
Why the preparation for war on Iraq really hits home in Jacksonville,
N.C.
By RICK REILLY
Next time you find yourself forgetting that it's real blood about to be
spilled from the real veins of really young Americans, come spend a day
in the flattop Marine town of Jacksonville, where even the tattooists'
hearts are aching.

"A lot of 'em are young and scared to be going over," says Rachael Mays
of the Sleeping Dragon tattoo parlor. "They come in for their meat
tags. You know, dog tags for the skin. Their name, rank, serial number,
religion, blood type and gas-mask size. They want 'em in case they're
blown in half. Then at least some part of them can come back to their
folks."


So far, 13,000 of the 43,000 Marines and sailors at nearby Camp Lejeune
have left, with 3,000 more scheduled for deployment. War may be not
much more than a bar argument where you live, but here it's a bucket of
ice water in the face. At the base theater, 600 Marines pack the joint
but not because Catch Me If You Can is playing. They're working on their
wills Moonie-style under the direction of a base attorney. One wants
Over the Rainbow played at his funeral. Another wills all 50 guys in his
company $10 each. His savings just barely cover it.

"They pretend not to be scared, but they are," says Gia, 31, a local
prostitute. "I give them more time than I should, just 'cause they want
to talk." Though they can't say they're deploying the next morning, she
can tell. "Usually one of my articles of clothing will turn up missing.
I'll come back for it, and they're like, 'Teddy? There's no teddy
around here.'" She lets it go. Hey, it's for the war effort, right?

At the Catholic church, the priests haven't seen Saturday confession
lines like these in years. "I think the war is unjust," says Father
Thomas Davis, who has worn out both ears listening to Marines. "But these
young men have no choice. I try to send them off with some peace."

Not that wartime here is without joy. At least the local violin player
is feasting. Maura Kropke plays at weddings, and Marines have been
making her cell phone dance. "Put it this way: I'm doing a whole lot of
Tuesday-morning and Wednesday-afternoon weddings lately," she says. "They
plan a wedding in three days, and they pull it off, no matter what,
even in downpours. I've seen brides coming down the aisle with umbrellas
held over them."

Marine brides find themselves alone soon enough. Take Sally Brown, 22.
She's a legal receptionist whose husband of two years shipped out last
week to man his gunnery position on top of an amphibious Amtrak
vehicle. Now her stomach is a pretzel. He couldn't even tell her where he was
going. "I have no idea when I'm going to hear from him again," she
says. Like a lot of other military wives, she goes from petrified to
patriotic to ****ed. "Bush is doing this because of his father," she charges.
"That's the only reason. Would Bush be doing this if he were sending
his daughters?"

Nobody in this military town talks about post-Iraq rebuilding plans. No
one skims over the fighting and dying and winning of a war as if they
were instructions on a waffle iron. It's real here, even for experts in
faking it, like exotic dancer Charlotte Johnson. Marines keep handing
her their dog tags before they go. "I think they want someone waiting
for them," she says. "I always tell them, 'I'll give them back to you
when you get home.' But I know not all of them will."

There's a slow leak in Jacksonville, and soon it could be as it was
during Desert Storm in 1991: a ghost town. Already a flower shop has
closed, a car shop has gone under, and a big grocery chain has decided not
to build. But for the locals, it feels a little different this time
around. A couple of cupfuls short of patriotism. And urgency. And sense.
"There's something unpredictable about this war," says Beeda Ruth Wensil,
who runs Saigon Sam's, a huge military-surplus store. "The boys don't
know where they're gonna go or what they're gonna do. Iraq or North
Korea? They don't even know what to pack."

So next time you need reminding that it's people's boyfriends and
soccer coaches who will be bleeding, come listen as the tattooist sends her
meat-tagged Marines off with these words, always these words: "For
God's sake," she says, as she sees them to the door, "keep your head down."




I wrote two letters, one as a fellow journalist and one as the wife of
a Marine read on if you will:
As a journalist i know the biggest no-no's of GOOD reporting, and they
are do not slander do not libel do not stereotype, and keep your damn
opinion out of it unless someone asks you for it, and even then for the
integrity of what you do you should still keep your mouth shut. I do
not know what kind of journalist Mr. Riley calls himself but I'd say he
is better suited to work at a tabloid than a respected news magazine
such as Time. I have held a subscription and read every issue of Time
since I was 15 years old and have always applauded their abillity to show
intgerity and intellect in journalism. One lapse of judgement won't lose
me as a reader, but still angers me as a wife. The fact that Mr. Riley
tried to diminish the honor of what these men do because he has no
character as a journalist is wrong from any standpoint. But just as Mr.
Riley so unfairly represented our Marines, he is an unfair representation
of a good reporter. By chosing to misrepresent Jacksonville as !
a whole, he knows that he runs the risk of misrepresenting himslef as a
qulaified journalist. If he can sleep at night knowing that he has
portrayed these men (and did he even mention the women) who fight for his
freedoms then so can I.

As a loyal reader for more than 7 years, I was apalled by the bad
judgement call that Time made by publishing Rick Riley's essay. I would just
like to know what kind of blinders Mr. Riley had on when he visited the
town of Jacksonville, NC, because it certainly isn't the town where my
husband worked and lived up until his deployment yesterday. Maybe he
missed the female Marine who's tears fogged up the windows of a charter
bus as she drove away from her 12 month old child, or the couple who had
been married for six days when the husband deployed. Maybe he blinked
when he drove past the 18 year old who had no on e to see him off to
fight this war, this war that is being fought so that people like Mr.
Riley have the freedoms of speech and the press to prepresent our brave
soldiers this way. I guess he didn't attend any of the emotionally
charged weddings that he spoke of in his article, or stop to wonder why the
Marine's wife that he talked to was petrified, patriotic, and ur!
inateed, but I guess that is because he was busy hanging out with
prosititutes.
I wonder how Mr. Riley's wife or mother, or children would feel if it
were him who was leaving and a journalist represented him and his fellow
Marines as tattooed blockheads who spend their last nights in bars with
prostitutes. But then again maybe Mr. Riley didn't expect any of the
"jarheads" that he worte about to be bright enough, or in this country
long enough to read his article. My husband has been a Marine for seven
years, has no tattoos and hanging out with a stripper is the furtherest
thing from his mind on any given day, much less the last day that he
has to enjoy the many freedoms that our great nation has to offer.
Anytime Mr. Riley or any of his fellow journalists would like a tour of
the area, this Marine's wife would be glad to show them the
Jacksonville that I know, home of the Few, the Proud, the United States Marines.
Semper Fi!!


Sempers,

Roger