"Semper Fi, Do or Die..."

Today is the 235th Marine Corps birthday.

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...

"If my heart can talk, it will not stop."

"If my heart can talk, it will not stop."

Today is election day, as well as the second day of November.  In five days, it will again be the anniversary of Fallujah.  Of course, it annually conjures up memories...

In 2004, on election night, it had been many days since I last talked to my husband.  On the 30th of October, we suffered a devastating loss when a suicide bomber attacked a convoy and lost seven eight Marines. (I find it sad that I can't even recall the exact number of men lost at times because it happened so often during this time; not necessarily with 1/3, but altogether with all four Marine battalions in Fallujah during that time -- the article says seven, but it was actually eight).  We found out on Halloween that year about it.  I was sitting downstairs with my landlords passing out candy to trick-or-treaters when Mary called me to tell me about the loss (from the Key Volunteer Network, she passed information to us before it hit the newswire).  At that time, it was the single largest loss of life since the war began.  Sadly, 1/3 trumped that one again in January when the CH-53e helicopter went down and took 31 Marines and Navy corpsmen with it.

With all of those feelings so fresh on election day 2004, and with the climate surrounding us at the time, the election seemed so important.  I sat with my friends next door, Michelle and Tony (who was also a Marine with 3rd Radio BN) and watched the elections results coming in.  It had been at least a week since I last heard from Casey and everything was so vague; he couldn't tell me much about what was going on.  I knew that he had more information than he was letting on.  It pained me to know so little about their actions over there.  What he could have told me, I don't know.  There was scuttlebutt in the news about the "major offensive" coming up in Fallujah, but I didn't even know he was near Fallujah.  It was such a volatile time and so heartwrenching.  That first loss, of those seven eight Marines, set the tone and put us all in a constant state of angst.

Can you imagine wanting your husband to receive a non-life-threatening wound so he would be sent home and be safe because you were that scared he was going to die?  

That is what started right then, and it didn't stop until well into 2005.  There is some immense guilt that comes with feelings like that.  I still feel horrible about ever feeling that way, ever wishing he would get injured so that he could come back seems like the worst thing I could have felt, or wanted.  I am ashamed of it, but that is the truth.  That is just how terrified we all were.  I was not the only wife who felt this way.  I was not the only wife who silently wished this, and I am sure I am not the only one who feels damaged because of how severely we wanted our husbands home safely.

So, although we've had several elections since 2004, for some reason I am feeling very pensive about things this year.  Perhaps it's because I am actually getting people to listen to me about Peralta's MOH nomination and travesty of our system that it has become...or perhaps it's because it's November, again.

The month of November conjures up these memories, without fail, every single year.  I have come to appreciate the power of getting those memories out, even if it is just to this web space.

"Death before dishonor..."

"Death before dishonor..."

Since Sgt. Rafael Peralta was denied the Medal of Honor in 2008, I have been one of many people hassling politicians about the situation, and the urgency to elevate his posthumous award from the Navy Cross to his originally nominated Medal of Honor.  After politicians nominated him for the award, after the 1st Marine Division Commander said "without a shadow of a doubt" he believed there was willful intent on Peralta's part to give his life to save the other Marines in the room with him, Defense Secretary Robert Gates denied Sergeant Rafael Peralta the Medal of Honor.  Instead, Peralta posthumously received the Navy Cross, which it is reported that Peralta's mother Rosa refused, standing firm in her position

In the event you are unfamiliar with the situation, here is a brief recap...

On 15 November 2004, 1st Battalion 3rd Marines were participating in Operation Phantom Fury in the city of Fallujah, Iraq.  As anyone over the age of 25 will recall, it was a huge ordeal and the battle was blanketing the international news agencies.  It dominated the US's media, newspapers, etc.  Operation Phantom Fury officially began on 7 November 2004.

Although rightpundits.com is an extremely right-wing, partisan website, it did turn out an excellent article on Peralta's sacrifice:

He was a sergeant in Company A, 1st Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment for “Operation Dawn”, the November offensive that re-took the Iraqi city of Fallujah, which had become a safe haven for terrorists. What Rafael did on November 15, 2004 was an act of selfless sacrifice and faithfulness to his fellow Marines and his country.

This is what heroism looks like:

Sergeant Peralta was age 25 years old. He and his family moved to San Diego from Tiajuana when he was a teenager. He joined the Marines the day after he got his green card and earned his citizenship while in uniform. He was fiercely loyal to the Corps and took pride in its traditions. While in Kuwait, waiting to go into Iraq, he had his camouflage uniform sent out to be pressed.

He constantly looked for opportunities to help his Marine brothers, which is why he ended up where he was on November 15th. A week into the battle for Fallujah, the Marines were still doing the deadly work of clearing the city of terrorist vermin, house by house. As a platoon scout, Peralta didn’t have to go out with the assault team that day. He volunteered to go.

The Marines entered a house and kicked in the doors of two rooms that proved empty. But there was another closed door to an adjoining room. It was unlocked, and Peralta, in the lead, opened it. He was immediately hit with AK-47 fire in his face and upper torso by three insurgents. He fell out of the way into one of the cleared rooms to give his fellow Marines a clear shot at the enemy. During the firefight, a yellow fragmentation grenade flew out of the room, landing near Peralta and several fellow Marines. The uninjured Marines tried to scatter out of the way, two of them trying to escape the room, but were blocked by a locked door. At that point, barely alive, Peralta grabbed the grenade and cradled it to his body.

His body took most of the blast. One Marine was seriously injured, but the rest sustained only minor shrapnel wounds. Corporal Brannon Dyer told a reporter from the Army Times, “He saved half my fire team.”

After an investigation, a decision by Defense Secretary Robert Gates to reject a Marine Corps recommendation that Rafael receive the Medal of Honor has angered Marines who say he sacrificed his life to save theirs.

A Gates-appointed panel unanimously concluded that the report on Peralta’s action that included the testimony of marines who were eyewitnesses to Peralta’s heroism, did not meet the standard of “no margin of doubt or possibility of error,” Pentagon spokesman Bryan Whitman said.

The argument seems to be about whether a mortally wounded Marine could have intentionally reached for the grenade after suffering a serious head wound. 

I suppose the Pentagon believes that Rafael, as he was falling to the ground – dead – had an involuntary movement that saw that grenade, extended out his arm, and scooped it up under his body to protect his brothers. Amazing!

The decision is “almost like somebody called me a liar,” said Marine Sergeant Nicholas Jones who was with Rafael that day and saw what happened. Jones said Peralta’s actions have become part of Marine Corps lore, as drill sergeants and officer-candidate instructors repeat it to new Marines to this day.

“His name is definitely synonymous with valor,” said Jones, who himself was wounded by the grenade blast.

The congressional delegation, spearheaded by Rep. Duncan Hunter, sent a letter asking President Bush for a review and reconsideration of the case of Sergeant Rafael Peralta receiving the Medal of Honor.

Incredible heroism in battle happens. We hear stories about it alot. The courageous human spirit and sacrificing oneself so others may live are core values in war demonstrated by Sergeant Peralta. It is clear that he wasn’t dead – yet. This young man, who enlisted in the Marines when he received his green card, who volunteered for the front line duty in Fallujah, who loved being with his marine brothers, had one last act of heroism in him.

President Bush, we have watched you with them over the years. You love our military and know their sacrifice. Though the Navy Cross is our second highest award for combat bravery, give this marine the Medal of Honor. How can we not? (Source)

After two years of writing, two years of being an overall pain-in-the-ass, I finally heard from one of Oregon's federal representatives Friday.  Being an election year, I thought this would be a good time to write these politicians, again.  The following was relayed to me via email on the Sgt. Peralta Medal of Honor issue:

Sergeant Rafael Peralta's bravery exemplifies the best of the Marine Corps. His willingness to sacrifice his life to save fellow Marines cannot be questioned. After reading your letter, I learned that the Secretary of the Navy did award Sergeant Peraltathe second highest award for valor, the Navy Cross. In addition, the Department of Defense did consider Sergeant Peralta for the Medal of Honor, but concluded the standard for the highest award was not met. I agree with you that Sergeant Peralta's actions seem to merit the Medal of Honor, but I am hesitant to subject decisions on posthumous awards to political scrutiny. It's just not the place for politics.

The most pertinent quotes are in bold, with the finale underlined.  So, if this is not the "place for politics," then where is?  Tell me, Mr. DeFazio, is this just a laziness thing, or is this issue not important to you?

While Art Robinson isn't any better for District #4, DeFazio will not be garnering my vote either.  What is with our elected representatives picking and choosing what matters to them and not what matters to their constituents?

My resolve has never been stronger, though, and I will continue to write and email and call all the politicians I can.  I will not give up, not until Peralta's Medal of Honor is made right or I am dead, whichever comes first.

If this matters to you, do something about and write your politicians.  Do not waste your time signing one of those pathetic online petitions, which do absolutely nothing except occupy space on the internet and make the signed feel better, Snopes has cleared that one up for all.

Sergeant Rafael Peralta deserves so much more than our federal government has given him.  Stand up for him and the rest of the "bastard children of 1/3," the forgotten heroes, and tell your politicians this situation is a grotesque miscarriage of our system.  Make it right.

Keep in mind, of the seven Medal of Honor nominations that have made it to our asshat Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, ONLY Peralta's nomination was denied.  Interesting, don't you think?

"Tears are words the heart can't say..."

"Tears are words the heart can't say..."

I haven't written in here in a very long time, but it's almost November, again.  And I am feeling as pensive as I always am this time of the year.  It never goes by without my marking it in some way or another.

I feel like I am "healed," whatever that means.  I still think about that ten months all the time, at least once every day, but it is not with the kind of heartache it was before.  I know many of the wives hurt during that time have been mended, as well.  I think this is the most comforting part of all, knowing these amazing women have been able to repair their hearts, that convinces me it's time to move on and not let this deployment govern me and my emotions any longer.

I haven't written over the last several months because of many things.  My husband is back from deployment and has been since early this year and I have been working and schooling all that time, full-time plus some.  That has limited time for jotting my feelings, though I feel much better when I get the time to write.  And although things have been busy, I have still thought about everyone and everything.  In fact, I'll be thinking about 2004-2005 and its trials and tribulations, and I'll remember something from that deployment that I had forgotten.

So, with all that said, where do I go from here?  What is next?
7 November is less than a month away...and will I feel "healed" then?

It's been awhile since I last updated.  Things have been, well, chaotic to say the least.
Re-acclimating after a deployment is time consuming, especially with work and school pitched in there. 
I will get back to this as soon as I can, I promise.