TwinMom7
Proud Mom of a United States Marine
- Joined
- Feb 16, 2000
My son is a CPL in the United States Marines and he is now on his way back to Kuwait....and hopefully back in Indiana by summer. I don't know what all he's been through, but I'm sure we'll sit for hours and talk.
This was written by an embedded reporter with the 6th Engineers - Charlie Company. My son was a part of the 6th Engineers - Echo Company. When you climb into your comfortable bed tonight and sit down with your family to eat a meal, please think about what these men and women have lived through over the past months...
CAMP CHESTY, Iraq -- Back home, the war is reduced to sound bites and TV images that look like something out of a movie, but here is the reality, starting each day like this, waking up and taking a crap in a hole.
A day when you wake up and your fingers are cracked and bleeding because it's so dry.
And your hair is crusty from last night's sandstorm.
And you are about to spend another day in the same pair of underwear.
And your toenails are starting to rot.
And you feel like an animal, digging through the trash, scrounging for an empty water bottle to fill.
And you're tired from being up all night on fire watch.
And you would kill for a cold beer.
And you sweat so much you don't bother with deodorant.
And you don't even know what day it is. Or what month.
And you don't know whether you are going to be alive tonight. And you are OK with that.
And the only thing that makes you happy is getting some mail.
And if you have another bag of Skittles, you are going to freak out because they come in almost every MRE (Meals Ready to Eat).
And you're hungry because it's so damn hard to eat jambalaya for breakfast.
And you might have to kill somebody today.
And you are carrying enough bullets to kill a small neighborhood.
And you don't even jump anymore when you hear an explosion.
And you have no idea when you are going home.
And you might have to kill somebody today.
Or maybe, you might give a little child some water, to try to start the healing process. But can one Marine really do anything to start something like that?
And your heart races when you hear a car horn, one of the signals of a gas attack, because you can't stand the thought of putting on your rubber boots and rubber gloves and gas mask again, considering it's 108 degrees. In the shade.
And everything you thought you knew, all the social norms, are gone, and the world has turned inside out.
And you might have to kill somebody today.
And you don't know whether your equipment is going to work because this is the Marines, and the Army gets all the money.
And you're so tired, so drained, so raw that you can have a complete conversation using only swear words with a few grunts thrown in for effect.
And you've grown so close to the guys in your squad, they feel like brothers. No, they are brothers. Maybe even closer.
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...and I thought I was proud before I read this.
This was written by an embedded reporter with the 6th Engineers - Charlie Company. My son was a part of the 6th Engineers - Echo Company. When you climb into your comfortable bed tonight and sit down with your family to eat a meal, please think about what these men and women have lived through over the past months...
CAMP CHESTY, Iraq -- Back home, the war is reduced to sound bites and TV images that look like something out of a movie, but here is the reality, starting each day like this, waking up and taking a crap in a hole.
A day when you wake up and your fingers are cracked and bleeding because it's so dry.
And your hair is crusty from last night's sandstorm.
And you are about to spend another day in the same pair of underwear.
And your toenails are starting to rot.
And you feel like an animal, digging through the trash, scrounging for an empty water bottle to fill.
And you're tired from being up all night on fire watch.
And you would kill for a cold beer.
And you sweat so much you don't bother with deodorant.
And you don't even know what day it is. Or what month.
And you don't know whether you are going to be alive tonight. And you are OK with that.
And the only thing that makes you happy is getting some mail.
And if you have another bag of Skittles, you are going to freak out because they come in almost every MRE (Meals Ready to Eat).
And you're hungry because it's so damn hard to eat jambalaya for breakfast.
And you might have to kill somebody today.
And you are carrying enough bullets to kill a small neighborhood.
And you don't even jump anymore when you hear an explosion.
And you have no idea when you are going home.
And you might have to kill somebody today.
Or maybe, you might give a little child some water, to try to start the healing process. But can one Marine really do anything to start something like that?
And your heart races when you hear a car horn, one of the signals of a gas attack, because you can't stand the thought of putting on your rubber boots and rubber gloves and gas mask again, considering it's 108 degrees. In the shade.
And everything you thought you knew, all the social norms, are gone, and the world has turned inside out.
And you might have to kill somebody today.
And you don't know whether your equipment is going to work because this is the Marines, and the Army gets all the money.
And you're so tired, so drained, so raw that you can have a complete conversation using only swear words with a few grunts thrown in for effect.
And you've grown so close to the guys in your squad, they feel like brothers. No, they are brothers. Maybe even closer.
---------------------------------------------------------
...and I thought I was proud before I read this.
