Another point of view

Posted by Tammy on Sep 10, 2005 in Uncategorized | 3 comments

With all that has been going on with Hurricane Katrina, Iraq and our guys have fallen to the wayside. Cindy Sheehan has fallen out of the spotlight…that I agree with. Our troops falling off along with her I don’t. This throws a bit of a spotlight back on them. It’s long, but worth the read.

This all comes to me via my husband…a former (and still current…at heart, at least) Marine. The first came to him via e-mail, the 2nd part is his response, the third comes from his best friend Bob…currently stationed (and due to come home soon!) in Iraq. That’s Bob and his wife Mary up there…taken in New Orleans, of all things.

8/31/05
It’s 05:46, I have been home about 25 minutes, and I didn’t crack until I walked in the house. I’m composed now. We just celebrated our 1st wedding anniversary so this was the first time I ever saw Brian leave but it’s his 2nd deployment to Iraq he also deployed to Desert Storm and Saudi. At times standing in the grassy lawn of the field house was unnerving, trying and then turned to sweetness only to turn back and the sorrow coming up my throat to my mouth and eyes almost choked me. I never missed a step and neither did Brian. One moment we are talking pleasantly by his sea bags and then we are swarmed with Commissioned Officers stating “One more little big thing MSgt. Riddle” and I would watch Brian walk off again.

I was proud of my husband, standing taller than most barking out orders watching the younger enlisted men jump to their feet and run towards his voice. I stood in the darkness alone, guarding my husband’s sea bags and backpacks against what I have no idea ants maybe but it gave me something to do and I felt like I was helping. I remember the pride when I heard his voice above the crowd. “If I can have everyone’s attention! I need you in formation in front of that oak tree NOW!”

I heard the commissioned officers speaking in their little huddle “Yes, MSgt. Riddle will lead these 80 and so n so will be in charge of those 8.” That’s my husband, in charge of 80 men, I thought and smiled. Then the realization set in, that’s a lot of lives to be in charge of and my smile faded. I thought of the weight Brian must be carrying. I took a step closer to his sea bags and backpacks standing over them so nothing would disturb them as my husband called off names from his roster.

“I want everyone to get in groups of 15 – 20 and walk over to the armory to pick up your bayonets and K-Bars then meet back here.” I heard the stomping of boots as everyone grouped up and walked across the dark front lawn of the field house. I saw my husband walking back towards me. “Honey I need to go across the street and get my weapon, it might take a while do you want to leave or wait?” He asked me. I couldn’t tell from his voice or face if he wanted me to leave or wait so I chose to wait. “Would you mind getting me a Gatorade while I am gone?” Anything, anything I can do for him, “Not a problem babe, any special color you would like?” “Just something red, I don’t care.”

I watched him cross the front lawn of the field house where the other men had headed before him; he walked alone, in the dark, back tall and straight. His pace was with conviction and purpose. Again my heart swelled with pride.

Jumping in my car and turning the AC on full blast as the temperature had to be 85 – 90 degrees. I drove over to the C-Store and I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes. “I am not going to cry now, I am not going to cry now,” I repeated all the way. I grabbed a Gatorade and a tea for me and walked to the cashier at the front of the store. I wondered if she could see I fighting back tears, I wondered if she could see my husband was leaving in my face, I lowered my head so we would not make eye contact.

I drove back to the field house parking lot, my head lights shining on a hundred men or more, some had family next to them, some were talking on their cell phones, some were taking pictures while a few laid on their packs getting one last wink of sleep. I rolled the car windows down and smoked a cigarette while waiting for Brian to return. I could hear voice and then this clicking as the men returned from the armory. All of them were clicking as they walked across the parking lot. All of them were now carrying big black guns across their backs; their guns or gun straps were clicking with each step. They all actually looked happy; after all isn’t this what they were trained for? All these young men, 18 – 19 – 20 years old carrying these long black guns across their backs, they were ready for what ever came their way now, they were Marines with weapons now.

Brian returned, sweat pouring off his forehead, lip, down his neck, this was the first time I ever saw my husband armed, actually he chose a pistol this deployment and he look really cool with his hand gun and shoulder holster strapped across his chest. “I can’t believe this!” His voice had changed to annoyance. “These guys are driving me nuts and have me running all over the place. Smith didn’t pack his gas mask, so everyone looks at me. “MSgt what are we going to do about this?” Brian looks at his Captain and states, “I don’t know sir, it’s 03:00 we may have to call someone to bring a mask up to Cherry Point or try to locate one at Cherry Point.” “That’s unacceptable” Captain responded. “That’s the only answer I have now sir; I will put someone on this now sir. He speaks to the non commissioned officers first then returns by my side going on about how if he doesn’t do it the job wouldn’t get done; Smith knew about this deployment for 2 months.

The trucks roll in, reminded me of something out of an ole black and white war movie. Brian moved into action once again. Everyone form a chain lets get these sea bags loaded in the back of truck! Move it! Move these sea bags to the truck now” Men and women scatter, I hear groans. Brian yell’s again “Make sure your bayonets and k-bars are secured inside your sea bags, you are not allowed on the plane with these on your person or in your back packs” Brian heads back towards me, grabs his 2 sea bags and totes them to the back of the truck. “I need more people at the back of this truck loading these sea bags!” he yells, 5 men hustle to his voice. I hear grunts and groans from the human chain as sea bags are shifted forward up the line to the truck.

Brian returns to my side, I smile. “This is actually going pretty smooth,” he tells me. “I’m glad honey” I do want it to go smooth for him, I don’t want him stressed out before he deploys, that was my job the last couple weeks, taking all the pressure off him so he would worry or stress. Again I think of how proud I am of him. I turn he is gone. Captain approaches me, “We are really lucky MSgt step up for this, and this is a tremendous undertaking he has taken on. He is a good man Ryn” I respond with “Thank you, that means so much to me. “I know he is a great husband.”

Brian returns to me as we watch both trucks being loaded. He makes on trip down the sidewalk then back again yelling to get the big packs loaded now. Everyone jumps.

The buses roll in and then leaves again to let everyone know it’s 04:34 chow will be served, then muster up formation at 05:15 and the buses will leave at 05:45.

I know that now I don’t have much time left with him before we separate for 7 long months. What do I say? I don’t want to say goodbye. God Speed? Be safe? I love you? I will miss you? I feel that choking feeling again in my throat. “Want to go to the car and sit for a minute?” I ask. “I will turn the AC on.” “Really?” He responds and smiles. We walk to the car; I start it and turn the AC on full blast as promised. I hand him a napkin to wipe his face and neck. We hold hands, kiss a couple times, and tell each other how much we love we other. I assure him I will take care of everything, house, vehicles, dog. I remind him Minna and I might run down to Red Cross at the hospital to volunteer in Alabama, Mississippi or Louisiana after the 8th of Sept. He smiles as we had discussed it earlier and he thinks it will be a great idea, even donated some of his clothes for the cause.

It’s 04:55; he said he better get back to the troops. We exit the car and see the marines have already formed formation names are being called out. We hug, kiss, and hug again. “MSgt. Riddle bus #1″ “I got to go sweetheart.” “I know” “I love you” “I love you too Brian” he touches my hand squeezed it then ran to the front of the line. He says something to the Marine calling out names then walks to the bus door. He waits while everyone loads in, he is last one on. He turns to my direction and throws me a kiss, I forgot to move to catch it, and instead I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

All the men and women are loaded; the baggage doors close, the drivers take their seat. I see him sitting behind the drivers seat; he has taken out his roster of names and is discussing something with the man across the aisle from him. The bus door closes. I feel the tears; I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry.

Seems like a hundred long steps to my car, get in start the engine, the tears are coming now, I see out the back window the buses turning on the street. I drive off the parking lot, turning the opposite direction. Tears are burning now; it’s a long silent drive home. I can only imagine how long it would be for Brian leaving Camp LeJeune to Cherry Point, boarding a plane to ______ then Iraq and finally trucked into Camp __ ________. Brian said it might be a week before he gets a shower.

The house is lit up as I pull in the drive way, I had purposely left the lights on in two of the bedrooms, the kitchen and the living room, I also had turned the TV on in our bedroom so the house would not be silent when I came home.

I turn the key to the front door, Minna greets me, she steps out on the porch and looks for Brian, she knows he left with me, where is he? “He is not coming back for awhile Minna” I tell her, then that choking feeling comes over me, it really hurts now, and this animal like noise fills the living room, it was me, that noise came out of my mouth. I am wrecked with tears, can’t control the shaking, I had not thought it would hurt this bad, I thought I was tough, Minna paces back in forth like she is looking for someone to help me, I hold her face in my hands. I tell her it’s okay, we are going to be fine, she cries with me, she knows this is wrong, he shouldn’t have to leave, we want him here with us, where we can touch him, hold his hand, see him smile hear his laughter.

I walk to the kitchen, clean up the coffee pot and cups from the coffee I had made at 01:30, only a few hours ago. I wipe my face clean from the sticky tears, day one has started only 211 more to go, guess I need to go grocery shopping, the fridge is empty, yeah and the car needs gassed up, make sure I pull those POA papers out so I can sign the lease on the 6th, call Mom before she leaves for Texas, remember to call Bill and Freda this weekend, now what do I fix to eat for one???? And life goes on…

Ryn Riddle

Proud Wife of:

MSgt. Brian Riddle – HQ 2nd FSSG – TRT – G3

Training Chief
Camp LeJeune, NC

This is from Ben (my husband)

Ben Says:

Thank-You very much to my friend (and fellow Marine Richard), who sent me this. Arguably one of the best written stories I have ever read.

I want to put in my humble observation. This glimpse into the heart and mind of a Marine’s wife is written in a lingo that doubtlessly strikes straight into the soul of anybody who wore the uniform of the Marine Corps, but what it does for me is take it to a level that I certainly cannot speak about…War Time. To be sure, I feel that anybody who has worn the uniform ought to have the eternal feeling of pride that I suspect we all do, but what I truly wish for is for every American to understand what this letter actually describes. True Heroes.

My friend MSgt Dixon is on the tail-end of his second tour of duty in Iraq, and when I read this story, I choked up. He and his wife Mary have gone through this exact scenario a few times now, and I ask that you might squeeze in a quick prayer for him and his family for his safe return stateside.

(Thanks again Richard)

More than ever, Semper Fi

Ben.

And lastly, from Bob. Straight from Iraq. Pray, y’all, he comes home SOON.

Bro,

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that this story was written by Mary. This is exactly what happens when I leave….down to me barking orders. I can’t delegate when it comes to moving the unit. The unit was divided into two section’s, I had the larger, containing LtCols, down to Pvt’s. Good story…..damn near shed a tear thinking about Mary crying in the parking lot, not to mention all the other family member’s crying…….everywhere. But, this is almost over. I hope Hajii quits shooting at us. He might get lucky one day.

Faceman

MSgt Dixon, Robert F
Maintenance Chief
HMLA-775
OIF 4-6
IRAQ