While this is a huge celebratory occasion, it does remind me of November 10, 2004 and how I spent the 229th Marine Corps birthday...
It had been weeks since I last talked to my husband at this point. I was starting to lose my composure, assuming I had any to begin with, given the situation in Iraq at that time. Operation Phantom Fury was encompassing the newswire. Everywhere I turned, it was right there in my face. Reminding me what could happen.
Third Marine Regiment had saved us a table at the Marine Corps Birthday Ball that year; the dreaded "deployed spouses table". Sequestering us from the rest of the Regimental Marines, and keeping us contained in our hell. My friend Mary and I vehemently opposed attending this parading of us and our vulnerabilities in front of the Regimental Marines and their dates/spouses.
Instead, Mary and I went to Waikiki. I wore my trusty heather grey USMC t-shirt, to properly represent my allegiance on this most important days. Because of the situation and the loneliness and fear that was all-consuming at that time, being with another wife who was feeling the same way as I made things feel marginally better.
Mary and I went to an obscure restaurant off of Kalakaua Avenue for late-night pancakes, removing ourselves from the chaotic nature of our lives at that time. Afterward, we sat on Waikiki Beach, reflecting on that place in our lives.
Mary was miserable, as was I. We just wanted to float away on the water and be done with it all, but we had to endure, just like our husbands did. There were a lot of us who were having trouble in our marriages before the deployment even started, which was only further compounded by the stress of this combat-heavy deployment. My immaturity at the tender age of 20 didn't help things. Alas, I had to be an adult and try to deal, but there is no "dealing" with something like this.
Everyone I know who went through that pump with 1/3 is still fucked up, in one way or another, Casey and me included. I look at happy pictures of all of us on Facebook, or in my photo albums, and we look happy. I know that beyond those smiles and fun times lies something within our souls that will resonate for the rest of our lives. The Marine Corps birthday will open that wound all over again, every year. Fortunately, this is overshadowed by the immense pride of being married to one of the infantrymen Marines who participated in this generation's Hue City.
By dusk on November 10, Battalion 1/3 had seized the Mujahereen Mosque north of Fran and halted to observe the Marine Corps birthday, an annual ritual observed at thousands of balls around the world. In a formal service steeped in tradition, Sergeant Major Michael Berg had the army psyops Humvees play the Marine Corps hymn over their loudspeakers while he cut a slice of pound cake from an MRE and presented it to the youngest Marine. As he did so, insurgents fired a brace of RPGs.
"Shut those bastards up!" Berg yelled.
Over two hundred rifles and machine guns blazed away for several seconds.
"Cease fire!" Berg yelled.
The battlefield went silent.
"That's more like it," Berg said. "Continue with the ceremony."
(Credit: Bing West's "No True Glory: A Frontline Account of the Battle for Fallujah")
From Casey, 28 November 2004 via USPS:
I have to look at my watch to see what day of the week or month it is. All the days run together. I don't even know how long we have been out here. It's starting to come up on a month straight. We really have no word on when we are getting out of here. Only that it is soon. Hopefully. The days all run together, the only mental concept I have of time is whether the sun is up or down. I can't wait to come home. I just want to be with you...
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