September 10, 1999

Graduation Day.  I survived.  I made it.  I'm a Marine.  I am not going home a failure.  My driving force in this man made hell hole has been to prove not only to myself but to everyone who said I couldn't do this that they were wrong! I have friends back home who talk about doing things and never do. They are good people, but when I look down the road I see a time when they will sit at a bar and say " I think I could have been this or done that.. I think.." I didn't want to wonder, I wanted to know.  No mater what happens from this moment on, I know that I can and will make it through the hard times.  For all intents and purposes, I am 6'2 and bulletproof.  Fear isn't my enemy anymore.

Thirteen weeks ago, I wondered what the hell I was thinking.  Now I wonder why I waited so long.  When I got here I weighed 223 pounds.  Today I weigh 172 pounds.  I still have a black eye I got during the Crucible.  My grandfather asked me if I went to boot camp or a concentration camp when he saw me.

There are a lot of things I want to do now.  I want a beer.  I want a dip.  I want to go home and sleep in a bed without 80 other guys in the room.  I'm excited.  I can't sit still.

On the drive out the gate of Parris Island in broad daylight, I look back and realize how different it looks now.  The night I got here it looked like the gates of hell, now it looks similar to the entrance to UMass the last time I saw it.  It is a black dot on the map that is the journey of my life... just a black dot... well maybe it's a BIG black dot.  I'm going home, thank God almighty, I'm going home.

The More Things Change...

This past June I celebrated the 11th anniversary of getting home from Iraq.  The significance of getting home on June 6th is definitely not lost on me.  The last eleven years have been a roller coaster of both good and bad times.  Losing old friends, making new ones.  Losing jobs, finding jobs.  Agreeing with people, fighting with people.  Drinking far too much, failing to quit drinking.. ;)  I loved being a Marine.  I got out because I realized that I no longer fit into the Corps.  I can live with that.  I wanted to do other things.  I wanted to be something else.  I had further to go and the Corps wasn't going to let me get there.  That's not a slam on the Marine Corps or me.  I answered the call.  I can say I had and have what it takes.  

Eleven years have passed since the invasion of Iraq, or the War on Terror, or Operation Enduring Freedom, or Operation Iraqi Freedom, or Bush's Illegal War or W's Revenge Tour, or Imperialism, or Stomp out the Muslims, or Let's Steal All the Oil.  These are just some of the names it has been called.  I prefer to use the term my father used.. My step into history.  I wasn't on the sidelines of this, I was in the game.  This has caused me some issues since I got out and came home.  Sometimes I was jealous that my friends were ahead of me in terms of relationships, careers, things they could afford.  Other times I was angry when they'd say "We shouldn't be there!" But most of the time I really felt alone.  They didn't get it, they don't get it and they never will get it.  War isn't an abstract philosophy to me anymore.  It is a very real, very scary event that people die in far away from home for reasons that may or may not be true.  

Why do I bring this up?  Unless you are living on a deserted island somewhere, then you should realize that the global machine is cranking up again.  Russia is on the move, Israel and Palestine are at each other's throats, Iran is rattling its saber and Iraq and Afghanistan are as much a mess as they were 11 years ago and the rest of the world is just waiting to see what America will do.  Politicians come and go and with them come conflicts that require sacrifice.  But we keep sending the troops into harms way without properly equipping them to win the battle and return home.  We keep saying we'll support them no matter what and then sit by as veterans die because the VA is a bogged down bureaucracy. The VFW was a dying organization 15 years ago, now it's ranks are swelling with angry disillusioned servicemen and women.  The Marine Corps teaches us to improvise, adapt and overcome.  It seems obvious that we are doing something wrong if we are about to go back to Iraq for the 3rd time since 1990; we can't take care of our veterans;  the rest of the world wants to be like us and not listen to us.  

Today you are no longer Maggots...

After 12 weeks of pain, humiliation, sleep deprivation, and digging deeper than we thought possible we have arrived at the end of this chapter of our journey.  It is September 10, 1999 and it is Graduation Day.  We should be higher than we have ever been.  But that wouldn't be Platoon 2070's style.  We started Basic as the screw-up platoon and by God we will end as the screw-up platoon.  Before we leave to march over to the parade deck, our Heavy does a final walk through of the platoon.  As he is walking through the racks, he stops and looks both puzzled and confused.

He yells, "This rack smells like piss! Why does this rack smell like piss?!? Whose rack is this?"

It's Hawkins rack. He sounds off "It's my rack SSgt!"

The Heavy replies "Why does it smell like piss?"

Hawkins states "Because I pissed my bed every night SSgt!"

Metaphorically speaking this opened the floodgates! The Heavy went absolutely crazy.  He demanded to know who Hawkins rack mate was.

Umoren said "I'm his rackmate SSgt!"

The Heavy stayed on point. "Did you know he was pissing his rack every night?!"

Umoren replied "Yes I did SSgt."

The Heavy screamed "God damn it U-MORON, you're a God damn squad leader!! This should have been reported! Hawkins clearly has a mental issue and this should have caused him to be evaluated and kicked out of the platoon! You were supposed to report this!  Why didn't you?!?!?"

Umoron replied "Because we don't leave men behind SSgt!"

The Heavy didn't break stride, "Do you think covering up for someone's deficiency means that you have honor?  Marines have honor God damn it!! None of you has any honor! You're all a disgrace!" Then he stormed out of the squad bay.

Did I mention that today is graduation day?

10 years and a lot of ups and downs

My Marine Corps journey began on March 9, 1999 when I decided to enlist.  I have written extensively about boot camp and all the trials that it offered.  Much to the annoyance of some of my friends, I haven't gotten to the "good" parts yet or introduced any significant recurring characters.  There is a simple reason for this.  All the details are the good parts, and the significant character in this story is me.  This is my story.  I began writing it down because I wanted to pour it out and look at it to see what it revealed.  This story is more than a creative outlet.  It's a self study.  The Marine Corps profoundly changed my life.  It made me stronger.  It made me weaker.  It made me more confident.  It made me more self-conscious.  It cost me some friends.  It made me a better husband, father and friend.  It gave me nightmares.  Since I left the Marine Corps in September 2003, I have gotten married, had a son, and earned a Master's Degree.  I have also lost five jobs for reasons ranging from budget cuts to personality conflicts to not making it my whole life.  I guess it would be easy to look at either the successes or the failures and pass judgment.  I'm never late. I rarely take a day off.  I am honest.  I make mistakes and I own up to them.  For some reason, I don't think that my opinion matters.  This is a bi-product of my service.  I don't argue with bosses or offer my opinion when I disagree.  I'm starting to realize that this may be hurting me in the civilian world.  I think that I have been labeled as lacking for being willing to try to do things differently.  Once again I find myself at the end of one opportunity and searching for another.  I've been soul-searching.  I've been trying to remember that 6'2 and bullet proof feeling I had in September 1999 when I said I'll never be afraid of anything because surviving P.I. meant I could survive anything.  So, I think the time has come to get serious once again.  I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog and that you are ready to get hit with a lot more.  Five for Fighting wrote in the song "Chances" that "Chances lost are life's torn out pages", well you gotta take them before you can tear them down.  I have always loved Shawn Michaels of the WWE not because he's the Show Stopper, the Icon, or the Main Event.  I have loved him because he has failed as often as he's succeeded, sometimes worse, but he has always found his way back to the light. He sums up how I've been feeling lately...

Military Translations

Good to go! -- Ready! or Ya whatever!

I need (a) volunteer(s) -- I'm going to pick someone for a job that's going to suck and may be dangerous!

Be in formation at ____! --- It doesn't matter what time is stated, be 15 minutes earlier or you're screwed!

Oh?!?!? You want to move slow?!?!? --- Get ready to do something tedious very quickly!!!

Tell me a story.. --- Admit what you did and prepare to get your ass chewed!!!

You're a real ball of fire--- You are a waste of life!!

What was your class rank? --- No matter the answer the next question is going to be "So you mean to tell me that there are ____ people just walking into walls?!?!"

Do I have to kill you?? --- There is no correct answer, prepare for an ass chewing!!!

So and so said do this --- I want you to do this but I don't want to hear you bitch so I'm blaming someone else.

With all due respect --- This is an attempt to say "F@#$ YOU"

Let me see your ID --- I want to know if I can chew your ass

Once you get to MOS School, the Fleet, Overseas etc you'll see how it really is --- Your unit sucks and that other places are cooler.

Back when I was a... --- Back in my day everything was harder and crazier and I miss it!!!

No!! Your military right!! --- Hey Dumbass... That's your left side!!!!

Message to Garcia --- Get the job done and don't ask any F@#$ING QUESTIONS!!!

Stop/Loss --- DON'T MAKE ANY PLANS!!!!

First Civ Div --- the "real" world

Do you see any care in this eye? --- I don't care at all!!!

Mission Accomplishment comes before Troop Welfare --- Exactly how it sounds!!!

It never seems to end...

We went to the chow hall after the EGA Ceremony for a Warrior's Breakfast.  Since we arrived here on June 16th, we've eaten what we got and we've eaten fast.  Today is different.  Today we got to eat as much as we wanted and take as long as we wanted.  It might have been the best meal I've ever had.  SSgt Askew came over and sat with us and laughed.  I asked why he was laughing and he said because he knew we were well trained and then he asked us how he knew.  He then said because we didn't even realize that we were all sitting straight up, heels together, left hand on left knee and right hand shoveling food.  He was right, it had just become second nature.  I felt 6'2 and bulletproof.  It's hard to explain, I just had this sense that no matter what happens in the future I knew I could handle it because I made it through this.  An added bonus this morning was that I got to meet Capt Dale Dye.  He apparently comes to the Warrior Breakfast whenever he's in town to congratulate the new Marines.  

After breakfast we need to begin the preparation to graduate and leave the Island.  It starts right away.  We get back to the squad bay and it is time to clean the rifles which are filthy.  Everyone is exhausted from the 54 hour grind of the Crucible.  The Heavy brings out a solvent in ammo cans to clean the bolt carrier groups.   He tells us that this is how we'll do this from now on.  So we spent hours scrubbing our rifles and never really getting the grime off and there is far easier way to do it.  I wish I could say I'm shocked but it's all just par for the course.  After we clean the rifles, we bigin breaking down the squad bay.  We end the day prepping our uniforms.  When it is finally time to sleep, everyone just passes out.

On Sunday, I decided to go to church.  I haven't gone to church since I've been here.  I didn't particularly care for the guys who "found Jesus" while we were here.  These guys quoted the "yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" lines a little too often for my taste.  I think going to war will be a lot closer to the valley of the shadow of death than boot camp.  Besides, Sunday morning was the only time we had all week to just read letters or write letters, so I took advantage of it.  Considering all of this I found church moving on this Sunday.  I honestly felt the presence of something greater than myself that morning.  I don't know if it was the comradeship of the other Marines, the sense of accomplishment, the relief, God's holy spirit touching me...  I don't know.  I just know that I tears flowed from my eyes and I wasn't sad. 

After church, we gave our rifles a quick cleaning and that's when all Hell broke loose.  Private Blyce (no longer Recruit Blyce) lost his bolt carrier group.  That means he lost the bolt, the cam pin, the firing pin and the bolt carrier.  That means his rifle will not work.  What it also means is that he can't turn his weapon in.  When the Heavy questioned him, he said he didn't know what happened to it.  This guy is literally the gift that keeps on giving.  He left the bolt carrier group in the solvent.  So that was easy enough to find.  Unfortunately for Blyce, he wasn't smart enough to just put his firing pin, cam pin and bolt in his pocket till he found it.  Instead he put the loose pieces into his rifle which fell out. We have swept and cleaned the squad bay twice in the time between cleanings.  The Heavy wanted an explanation.  Blyce who couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat, couldn't give him one.  First he kept saying "This recruit doesn't know, Sir!"  We are Marines now and can say I and Drill Instructors are enlisted so you don't call them Sir!  When the Heavy screamed this at him, Blyce attempted to correct himself by saying "This Marine doesn't know, Sir!"  The Heavy responded to this by sending Blyce flying six feet through the air after an open palm thrust to the chest.  When Blyce got up the Heavy was on top of him and struck him again.  All the while the Heavy yelled "I'M NOT GOING TO JAIL BECAUSE YOU LOST YOUR WEAPON!!! BUT I WILL GO TO JAIL FOR KILLING YOUR DUMB ASS!!!" It never seems to end around here...

Patriot's Day

This blog is the story of my tour of duty in the Marine Corps.  During the four years I was in the Marines, we were attacked on 9/11, there were snipers killing people in Virginia, there were even Anthrax letters sent to Congress.  Those were scary times, but this nation found its way through it.  Yesterday the arm of terror touched Boston MA.  It's almost fitting that this event happened on Patriot's Day.  238 years ago, a group of men answered Paul Revere's famous cry and stood up to the British.  Most of those brave souls were killed that day but from their sacrifice arose a new kind of resolve and a new nation followed.  What happened yesterday will not stand.  Those responsible will be found, they'll be dealt with.  I only hope that justice will be swift.  To the people of the city and state that I love most, I say this, we have been sucker punched and we have been hurt.  One of those killed was the eight year old son of one of my fraternity brothers.  We will rise above this and when all is said and done, we will survive because nobody does this better than a Bostonian.  Keep the faith dear friends.

Semper Fidelis,

Sergeant Shawn P. Connors

United States Marine Corps