my family and friends seem to be asking the same question... "Why are you moving?" I thought maybe people who think a little would realize that I'm 25 years old, I'm married to a United States soldier- the most beautiful girl I know ;P, and we will probably be moving a lot especially after my four years in the Marines. We have been talking about the move for months now and people are still asking the same questions, it's getting fucking annoying and my wife is about to commit mas-murder.
That day; one of many that seemed like any other was changed with a single site of fragile innocence. It was mid-day in Iraq our mission was to find and destroy any insurgent activity in the area… The area was greener than anything I had ever seen; lots of palm trees and high greenery that made it almost impossible for me to see ahead. The insects that stuck to my sweat like glue did not make the heat any more desirable. We made our way to village after village, finding mostly empty houses, any homes that did have inhabitance were mostly women and children, but like always we kept our posture and pressed on looking for our enemy.
A fellow Marine and I came to our next target house; we were a little ahead of the rest of our platoon so we waited in the brush just in front of the lone house. Taking a knee I swatted the fly’s that had yet to stick to my face. I took a better look at the house in front of me. The home had large gardening tools; empty sacks of seed and rice piled by the front door, and some dolls carelessly tossed in a nearby garden. I noticed a little face looking out of the window at us. The face quickly left the window and the front door opened and out came a very young girl that brought me and my fellow Marine directly to our feet and our weapons at the ready.
She came directly to us not aware of our mission or our stench of not showering in almost a week. She stopped just feet from us and stared and gave a great big smile and a broken “Hello” She had light skin, her hair fell in brown curls, she watched with her green eyes as she waited for our next move… I felt like a bunny that she had just found. She was no taller than the M16 I held tightly in my hand, and she reminded me of my little sister back home. She reached her fragile hand out to mine inviting me to follow her; she took my gloved hand and made haste back to her house, with the platoon just seconds behind us I had no worry but just to follow the girl who took my mind off of what I was there for. She brought me to an empty room with a single matt on the floor, the walls were covered in colorings of houses with trees, stick figures with great big smiles, and smiling suns, this was her room. She was proud of her drawings and proud to show me… I told her “These are great!” I knew she couldn’t understand so I showed a broken smile and she smiled back as she looked at all of her creation. The grip on my M16 loosened as I felt just for a moment like I was home again.
She looked up at me and drew a vertical line down the center of her chest... My face showed question, the girl then quickly pulled her shirt up and what I saw mad the grip on my M16 tighter than ever… her skin from sternum to belly had been stitched together. Any normal life living person would think an operation, but we had reports of child suicide bombers. Could this little girl who had caught me off guard be the very end of me? The moment I saw the stitches and my grip tightened I thought it was over, But she smiled, pulled her shirt back down, and ran out of the room giggling. She came back in pulling her father close behind; by this time the rest of the platoon was well into the search of the surrounding area and house… The father explained in broken English but understandable, that his daughter had just gotten back from Minnesota where she had open heart surgery. I was listening to him but couldn’t help but look at her and see complete innocence in such a war torn world, oblivious to world’s decay, my stench, the Marines rummaging through her house for hidden Insurgents, not a care other than showing everyone her beautiful drawings of a perfect life.
I stayed in the room with her and held her hand and felt at ease… an argument outside broke our peace, and the little girl let go of my hand and ran outside to her father’s voice, Her father was in an argument with one of our interpreters, over what to this day is still unsure, the little girl grabbed her father’s hand, following the girls tight grip on her father’s hand the interpreter smacks her father on the cheek,. The act would have been really nothing to remember but when the little girl that I was watching closely fell lifeless like one of the dolls in the nearby garden it changed the tone. No one including myself knew what exactly what had happen. Was it the shock of seeing her father being slapped or did her heart stop from the excitement? Our Corpsmen scooped her up and I followed close behind, followed by her crying mother… We ran as fast as we could to a stream behind the house, our Corpsman kneeled down with her in his lap and gently scooped water from the stream and dripped in on her forehead. Her mother crying and praying behind me made me think the worst. My grip on my M16 tightened and I began to remember where I was and what I was there to do, no time to worry about the little girl- I had to complete the mission- couldn’t be weak; Then a little breathe exploded into life a mothers cries turned to happiness, her green eyes were open not sure of where she was, The call to move on to the next house was made over the radio, the Corpsman put her in her mother’s arms and continued his mission, I looked at the girl one last time in her mother’s arms and safe and I continued mine.
A fellow Marine and I came to our next target house; we were a little ahead of the rest of our platoon so we waited in the brush just in front of the lone house. Taking a knee I swatted the fly’s that had yet to stick to my face. I took a better look at the house in front of me. The home had large gardening tools; empty sacks of seed and rice piled by the front door, and some dolls carelessly tossed in a nearby garden. I noticed a little face looking out of the window at us. The face quickly left the window and the front door opened and out came a very young girl that brought me and my fellow Marine directly to our feet and our weapons at the ready.
She came directly to us not aware of our mission or our stench of not showering in almost a week. She stopped just feet from us and stared and gave a great big smile and a broken “Hello” She had light skin, her hair fell in brown curls, she watched with her green eyes as she waited for our next move… I felt like a bunny that she had just found. She was no taller than the M16 I held tightly in my hand, and she reminded me of my little sister back home. She reached her fragile hand out to mine inviting me to follow her; she took my gloved hand and made haste back to her house, with the platoon just seconds behind us I had no worry but just to follow the girl who took my mind off of what I was there for. She brought me to an empty room with a single matt on the floor, the walls were covered in colorings of houses with trees, stick figures with great big smiles, and smiling suns, this was her room. She was proud of her drawings and proud to show me… I told her “These are great!” I knew she couldn’t understand so I showed a broken smile and she smiled back as she looked at all of her creation. The grip on my M16 loosened as I felt just for a moment like I was home again.
She looked up at me and drew a vertical line down the center of her chest... My face showed question, the girl then quickly pulled her shirt up and what I saw mad the grip on my M16 tighter than ever… her skin from sternum to belly had been stitched together. Any normal life living person would think an operation, but we had reports of child suicide bombers. Could this little girl who had caught me off guard be the very end of me? The moment I saw the stitches and my grip tightened I thought it was over, But she smiled, pulled her shirt back down, and ran out of the room giggling. She came back in pulling her father close behind; by this time the rest of the platoon was well into the search of the surrounding area and house… The father explained in broken English but understandable, that his daughter had just gotten back from Minnesota where she had open heart surgery. I was listening to him but couldn’t help but look at her and see complete innocence in such a war torn world, oblivious to world’s decay, my stench, the Marines rummaging through her house for hidden Insurgents, not a care other than showing everyone her beautiful drawings of a perfect life.
I stayed in the room with her and held her hand and felt at ease… an argument outside broke our peace, and the little girl let go of my hand and ran outside to her father’s voice, Her father was in an argument with one of our interpreters, over what to this day is still unsure, the little girl grabbed her father’s hand, following the girls tight grip on her father’s hand the interpreter smacks her father on the cheek,. The act would have been really nothing to remember but when the little girl that I was watching closely fell lifeless like one of the dolls in the nearby garden it changed the tone. No one including myself knew what exactly what had happen. Was it the shock of seeing her father being slapped or did her heart stop from the excitement? Our Corpsmen scooped her up and I followed close behind, followed by her crying mother… We ran as fast as we could to a stream behind the house, our Corpsman kneeled down with her in his lap and gently scooped water from the stream and dripped in on her forehead. Her mother crying and praying behind me made me think the worst. My grip on my M16 tightened and I began to remember where I was and what I was there to do, no time to worry about the little girl- I had to complete the mission- couldn’t be weak; Then a little breathe exploded into life a mothers cries turned to happiness, her green eyes were open not sure of where she was, The call to move on to the next house was made over the radio, the Corpsman put her in her mother’s arms and continued his mission, I looked at the girl one last time in her mother’s arms and safe and I continued mine.
The first thing I could remember was Lameyer's curdled call for help, only three feet behind me. His blood and voice brought me back to the moment. Arentz ran up to me and Told me to get on the radio and tell cp we had been hit by an IED. Still Laying on the ground not sure if i; myself had even had shrapnel in me, I yelled in panic over the comms... "IED!!!!" I pulled myself around the corner as ash and dirt fell from the sky... the Air around me was hot and filled my lungs with fire.
I noticed Geurrero's wasted body in the center of the road. A tear formulated and fell down my cheek. " Not Tony" I told myself. I fell to one knee and began searching and assessing. I believe Trainoir ran out into the street and dragged Guerrero into some ladies yard while SGT. Negrete pulled Lameyer into a barber shop. The rest of the squad posted security.... we even had one marine try to find the man who blew us up. I started running between the two casualties collection points getting kill cards and bringing the wounded water, and making sure they weren't dying on us. I passed all the info over the radio; even had some flairs pop to let them know where we were. We felt a lone out there... I grabbed Guerrero's hand and held it tight as he told me "I'm scared... I'm scared..." His face was unrecognizable and blood kept pumping out of burn holes. All I could say was, "I'm going to get you out of here buddy.. I love you"
the trucks showed up and took Guerrero and Lameyer but they didn't have enough room for the rest of us. I said "fuck it we are leaving." No one questioned my demand, but followed suit. We picked up and ran as fast as we could back to the main FOB. Once out on the street I realized Sgt Negrete was wounded as well with sharp to his face and hands.... and Arentz's leg did not look to good either. But we had to keep moving. We noticed parallel to us were men with ak47's on each side of the street following us and closing in. We halted and were prepared with what we had for the coming ambush but it turned out that they were Iraqi Police making sure we didn't get hit by an ambush. Once inside the FOB we had to strip down naked too see if any of us had wounds we didn't notice. For the most part we all good. I laid in my rack, both bunks to the left and right of me were empty.... I wondered when it would be my turn.
I noticed Geurrero's wasted body in the center of the road. A tear formulated and fell down my cheek. " Not Tony" I told myself. I fell to one knee and began searching and assessing. I believe Trainoir ran out into the street and dragged Guerrero into some ladies yard while SGT. Negrete pulled Lameyer into a barber shop. The rest of the squad posted security.... we even had one marine try to find the man who blew us up. I started running between the two casualties collection points getting kill cards and bringing the wounded water, and making sure they weren't dying on us. I passed all the info over the radio; even had some flairs pop to let them know where we were. We felt a lone out there... I grabbed Guerrero's hand and held it tight as he told me "I'm scared... I'm scared..." His face was unrecognizable and blood kept pumping out of burn holes. All I could say was, "I'm going to get you out of here buddy.. I love you"
the trucks showed up and took Guerrero and Lameyer but they didn't have enough room for the rest of us. I said "fuck it we are leaving." No one questioned my demand, but followed suit. We picked up and ran as fast as we could back to the main FOB. Once out on the street I realized Sgt Negrete was wounded as well with sharp to his face and hands.... and Arentz's leg did not look to good either. But we had to keep moving. We noticed parallel to us were men with ak47's on each side of the street following us and closing in. We halted and were prepared with what we had for the coming ambush but it turned out that they were Iraqi Police making sure we didn't get hit by an ambush. Once inside the FOB we had to strip down naked too see if any of us had wounds we didn't notice. For the most part we all good. I laid in my rack, both bunks to the left and right of me were empty.... I wondered when it would be my turn.
He sits on the four legged stool at the bar; His hat is imprinted with bright yellow letters and stained with the salt of past years, not close to the sweat he let run in combat, but this will do. His vain tethered hand grips the glass tightly and shakes very little over the perspiring water droplets of the dark poison. His eyes are half shut and dark, his mind is elsewhere, years back perhaps, replaying a scene he cant escape. The bottom of his eye lids where the pink skin meets the glossy liquid of the eye often fills with a pool of soft water but is quickly drained like a bathroom tub, he answers the pool with a raspy broken voice, "Not today" and pours the poison into the back of his throat and cringes- not because it is to strong; because it is what is expected. A normal man would cringe or cough at the Liquor hitting his throat, but not him. He is not normal. He will never truly laugh at a joke, or feel your pain of a lost loved one. His pain runs deeper, deeper than your so called understanding. I see this man, and I see my future. My right of passage. You may feel bad for this man, but I see the truth. The ability to not hide behind society. I take my place beside him at the bar and order a rum... I take my drink, swallow and cringe for society... I look at him and nod. He nods back we understand each other.
One particular morning I was tasked by drill instructor Castaneda to wash a certain toilet. "Scrub it tell Chow Bitch, or tell I say otherwise!" He tells me before he straitens himself up and screams "WHHHAAA!" and chases another recruit down the hall. I ended up scrubbing every inch of that bowl, it must have been the shiniest bowl I have ever seen. I mean, I could see myself in it for fucks sake. But I know I must be here until he shows back up, if I disobey I'll end up on the quarterdeck... last time Bond had a scuff on a piece of his weapon at turn in time, Castaneda fried his ass on the quarter deck for like an hour. fuck that, so there I am scrubbing nothingness. I hear footsteps, but they aren't boot foot prints these are a kind of plastic kissing plastic instead of rubber; and drill instructors footsteps echoes through these halls-little alarms. I stand at attention and prepare to acknowledge his presence. I stand at attention, chin up, eyes forward, heels together, fists tight and along the trouser seam. A massive black senior drill instructor shows himself. "Good Afternoon sir!" I scream as loud as I can. He was clearly on his way past me he didn't even notice me, but he stops and almost skids. He walks slowly, swagger in his movement, he grins at me showing perfect white teeth, "What's your name recruit?" I start to shake as I yell out, "Recruit Bergh sir!!!" My name echoes throughout the porcelain room. The drill instructor comes really close and grabs me right above the left elbow, and with one full tug I am being evacuated from the barracks. All I can do is look up at him in wonder. He looks down at me and simply say's, "You're too small and too young to be here we have to get you to child protective services asap." The drill instructor gets About fifty feet outside of the barracks before SSgt Castaneda calls out, "Bring my Bitch back! I am not finished with him yet." Even at fifty feet away I can see the scar on his face take a new form do to the grin stretching his face. All I can think is its going to be a long day.
