The times they are a changing.

I said life goes on, and it really changes as well. To say I was indoctrinated in the Marine Corps is an understatement. When I ate I sat heels together and my left hand on my left knee.  I got up and ran everyday I was home. I called everyone including bartenders and waitresses "Sir or Maam". I didn't like people being behind me so I usually stood near the wall, constantly scanning the room. I shined my boots every other day. I got two haircuts in ten days. TWO! And was pissed cuz the barber didn't know how to due a proper high and tight.  Every shirt I wore said Marines on it and it was tucked in tight. I went down to UMass to see my fraternity brothers and learned a tough lesson.  I was in  terrific physical condition. But I had lost 50 pounds at boot camp.  I wasn't really used to myself at that weight. I played in a tackle pickup football game one afternoon and when I tackled my boy Nate, he rolled over me and crushed my head. I bit half way through my bottom lip. I needed stitches. So now I'm on leave and I have the remnants of a black eye from the Crucible and now I have a massive fat lip and stitches in my mouth.  I wasn't exactly feeling as bullet proof as I had been. 

Another lesson I learned (and quite frankly one I should have learned already but one that would repeat several times over the next four plus years) was that the Marine Corps operates on its own time frame and quite often with no rhyme or reason.  I went to see my recruiter and put in for a month of Recruiter Assistance and it was denied. Ok, that's fine. The reason was that they needed everyone to get through MCT cuz hurricanes were storming up the coast. (When I got to MCT I got sent to Guard Duty for two and a half weeks because my MOS School was backed up. When I finally get to MOS school, they almost wouldn't start my training cuz I was a week late!) So to sum up, if I had gotten Recruiter Assistance I would have gotten to MOS School right around the same time.  Hurry up and wait, Oorah.

Lastly, I want to say that my Heavy Hat told us a way to avoid fights with guys who want to try Marines.  This is important because a guy bumped into me at a party at UMass. I didn't think to much of it until he tapped me on the shoulder and the following conversation occurred:

Drunk kid: (Angrily) Hey Asshole, you bumped into me!

Me: (Calmly) I'm sorry. Which side did I bump into?

Drunk kid: (Confused) What? What do you mean? What does it matter what side?

Me: Well, it matters a lot. If I bumped into your left side, it was an accident and I'm terribly sorry. If it was your right side, then I was sizing you up and preparing to kick your ass all over this place. So which side was it?

Drunk kid: (Still confused) I'm not sure. Let me think about it.

Me: Ok

Several minutes go by and I get tapped on the shoulder again.

Drunk kid: (Angrily) I think it was the right side!

Me: (Calmly) It took you this long to come to that conclusion? You haven't thought this through. You're not in this Fraternity. I'm one of the founders. Every brother in here is going to back me up and you and your two friends are gonna get the ass kicking of a life time if you push this.

Drunk kid: Uhhh...

Me: UHHH?!?!?!?! That's the best you can do? Pledges!!! Escort this gentlemen and his friends to the door, they're no longer welcome here.

Pledges surround them and push them out. I don't know, maybe I should have kicked his ass. Still, it was fun to watch the wheels turn slowly behind his drunk eyes!

Life went on...

Boot camp was a transformation. It was a transformation of body and mind. I lost 50 lbs at PI. None of my clothes fit. I was away for 14 weeks. A lot can happen in 14 weeks. I got letters from family and some friends. I also didn't get any contact from some friends.  When I left, I felt like I was leaving everyone and everything behind.  It was scary. It was lonely. I cried at night during boot camp. Coming home I wanted to show everyone the transformation. I wanted to look the people in the eye who told me I couldn't do it they were wrong. I wanted to show them who I had become. But the funny thing about transforming your body and mind is that you don't feel comfortable in your old life and your old life doesn't feel comfortable with you. My family told I was too skinny. My friends told me I looked like a smaller younger me, like a little brother. Some people wanted to fight me, you know just to see what I learned. Some wanted to just avoid me, cuz at some point in their lives they didn't like the military so I was some one to take that out on. I wanted to make mend some fences with people that didn't want them mended.

The biggest difference was between me and my dad. When I told him that I was going to join the Marines after college, he looked at me like I had just kicked him in the nuts.  The conversation went something like this:

Dad: Do you purposely choose every path in life that I don't like?

Me: What do you mean?

Dad: I wasn't a good student, you were. I wasn't an athlete, you were. I never went to college, you did. I hate fraternities, you started one. I don't like actors, you've done 13 plays. I was in the Army and I hate Marines, now you want to be one? Why do you do these things?

Me: Didn't you always say that you want me to be better than you? This is how I'm trying to do that. Besides, you are my hero. You served this country and I want to as well.

Dad: Well, this is what I think of your decision. 1) As a father I'm against this. It's my job to keep you safe and I can't if you do this. 2) As a father I also taught you to follow your dreams, and I know this has been a dream of yours for years. 3) I'm a veteran. You owe this to me. You owe this to me, and to all those who went before you. So good luck.

I wrote some very honest letters home from boot camp to my dad. He saved them. He brings them up every now and again if he thinks my head is too big. But he purposely needles me about the Marine Corps and our traditions and gets really pissy when I do it back. He really hates when I say that ARMY stands for Aint Ready for the Marines Yet. But he loves to say Semper whatever you people say.  He seems angry at me for joining the Marines and is being passive aggressive about it. I love him and I'm not looking forward to saying goodbye again when I go to MCT. Just surprised by how small home seems and how much I want to stay.

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!!!