Sad parting from war-bound Marine
There was no marching band. Only the eerie hum of the generators powering the two floodlights that cast their solemn glow over the parking lot in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. It was close to freezing at 2:30 a,m, Saturday morning (March 6) as the 126 Marines of Alpha Company converged with family and friends for their final formation to deploy to Afghanistan. The men were sons, brothers, and husbands to those of us gathered around them. They were dressed in the desert fatigues that they would be wearing for the next seven months. We were there amongst the somber crowd to bid farewell to our 19-year old son, Nathan.
It is his first deployment as a US Marine, his first journey into war. For Nathan, he hopes his Malibu friends will take a moment to reflect upon the sacrifices that our men and women of the armed forces are making every day to protect our freedoms and our way of life. Where we may find comfort in the warmth of our homes, the Marines will be sleeping in foxholes. Where we give scant consideration to the convenience of a hot bath or shower, the Marines will have to be content with a bottle of water. Where we can freely meet friends at the local coffee house, the Marines will spend their time patrolling the dirt roads of primitive villages. Where we may enjoy the security and freedom of going to school or work, the Marines will be subject to days without sleep and living on the edge. For them, danger lurks around every corner. Fear can cast a long shadow.
Our last 48 hours with Nathan before his deployment brought about a convergence of raw emotions. Pride, sorrow, fear quickly come to mind. A war that seemed so distant was now an integral part of our lives, too close to home. Nothing will dissipate the fog of war more quickly than the cold slap of reality when Nathan quietly gave us his last will and testament that night.
The sergeants barked orders for the men to assemble. We all rushed to give our last hugs and kisses. The young Marines then quickly formed into their three platoons. A final roll call and weapons check was carefully noted by each of the platoon sergeants who then directed the platoons to march to the three buses waiting to carry them to their flight.
We joined the group of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and wives as we followed our Marines to the buses. It seemed like we were following a river of tears. We watched as Nathan took his seat on the bus. From his seat, he locked his gaze through the window at us. We could tell he was happy and proud that we were there for him. The bus engines came to life and the interior lights went out. The three buses went to the end of the lot and turned around to exit. We joined the surge of families crossing the lot to wave one last good-bye as the buses went by to the end of the lot and turned right, disappearing into the darkness of night. It was a long goodbye, poignant and bittersweet.