We got married when I was barely nineteen. That factor alone was enough to cause strife in a marriage, and could have torn apart the most normal couple.
He left in July 2004. 1/3 was reserved for standard UDPs (unit deployment program) in the southeast Asian regions. If I remember right, this was a measure that followed World War II and the issues with Japan...or perhaps it followed Vietnam, I cannot remember for certain.
In any event, we were reassured numerous times that Iraq was not on the agenda for 1/3. Of course, there was scuttlebutt that led us to believe and talk of the possibility. Perhaps it was simply denial, perhaps we were only fooling ourselves. But when he left on that warm, late Hawaiian evening, I never imagined things would be as they were.
A few weeks before the deployment began, there was a briefing at the base chapel. This is where I first met Judy, my dearly beloved friend, who saved me from myself.
The day the men left, the command required the Marines of 1/3 to stay on base from around 1500 until they had to report to the commissary parking lot to prepare to board the buses to the hangar that would transport them to Okinawa (where they would then attach to the 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit). To make the most of our last few hours together, we went to Recon Beach and collected seashells (something we did quite frequently). We had one last meal at Taco Bell together and then we stood in the commissary parking lot, staring at the white buses, tear-filled faces of wives and children, and hugged as much as possible.
Neither him nor I really knew what was going to happen in the months ahead.
Just him leaving was enough to wreck me. I was entirely alone on an island. I was so young, and had only been on the island a handful of months. That entire time, I wrapped myself up in him and did not make friends. The only friend I had, moved just before the deployment. She was the one who picked me up from the airport after I moved to Hawaii, as 1/3 was on the Big Island for training at PTA (unexpectedly). My entire first year on the island was tumultuous, from arrival onward. Sarah was my very first friend, and is still such a positive influence on me, though we haven't seen each other in many years now. She was a dear friend to me while she was there, and she called and emailed often afterward. She was an example to me of what a Marine wife should be. She set the bar for me and helped guide me as I tried to acclimate to a completely foreign lifestyle. Without her, I would have been completely lost.
I remember when Sarah picked me up from the airport and took me to my apartment. It was small (small is probably an understatement, but we had a lot of really great times in that apartment and we loved living on Akumu Street), but cozy. However, Casey had to leave in such a hurry for PTA that he hadn't provided anything in the apartment. There wasn't even a towel to try off with, let alone a bed or silverware. It was completely depressing. Sarah took me to my new home and let me shower, then took me to the commissary and to our Jeep and got me going back home. She helped me think of all the things I needed at the apartment and I decided the next day that I would go after a sleeping apparatus. I spent that first night in Hawaii sleeping on the floor of our very empty apartment. However, had it not been for Sarah, I'd have felt so much more alone.
After Casey was rounded up for small pox and anthrax vaccines, no longer allowed to be around family, we were forced to leave. I collected myself and tried to restrain my tears, got into the Jeep and drove the few miles back to my apartment. I couldn't shake this overwhelming feeling of emptiness, it pulled at my chest, and I felt like I was having a mild heart-attack. I sat on the sofa in total silence for what seemed like an eternity, not crying, not moving, just staring. Trying to fathom the next seven months and how I was going to manage all alone. I took a shower and watched television until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, hoping he would call me as soon as possible.
Our relationship was struggling even then, both of us were immature and not entirely upfront about elements of our pasts. In retrospect, of course, we both see how silly our behavior and reactions were. But, as a jealous and ignorant young woman, suffice to say I did not handle anything very well and began to have trust issues early on. My emotional instability, as a depressed now 20-year-old and, concurrently, a lonely wife with marital problems was hard to bear. It got worse before it got better and set the precedent for how others would treat me and my husband throughout the deployment. Everyone gets into others' personal affairs, even if they are uninvited and unwelcome. And some of those that were invited deeply violated my trust and confidence in people, ultimately betraying me in an especially desperate time.
The first month of this deployment was too much to bear.
However, after those few weeks were over, things seemed to improve. Much to my shock.
And a family day invited some much needed companionship, after a long several weeks of loneliness. Things had gotten so much better. I missed him immensely, but I was becoming more and more stable with how things were rolling. We still had no idea what was in store for us. When I left the island to go to my family's for a visit, we still didn't know what was coming just around the corner.
We should have known, Operation Vigilant Resolve failed. We should have known that no infantry battalion would go to waste. And maybe some did know.
None of us were adequately prepared, though, for when we did enter the fray.
From Casey, 2 November 2004 0358 HST, five days before D-Day:
I will come home to you, Crystal, you are who I am coming home to. You are my motivation over here, the thought of you is what keeps me sane. The thought of being in your arms and you holding me tightly and me loving you back puts a smile on my face even in the worst of conditions.
