Sorry that my son is Air Force? :o) On Dec 4, 4:03 pm, Hollywood <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > Mercury, > > So sorry. > > On Dec 4, 2:50 pm, "Mercury.Sailor" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > > > > Hollywood, > > > My son is not a Marine!! I think it takes a special kind of > > person to become a Marine!!! My son is well, Air Force material! ;o) > > > I read this article in the NYT magazine yesterday, I clipped the > > article and Im sending it to my brother who is a retired Gunny. Than I > > thought about looking it up to see if it is online and sure enough it > > was, So I thought of posting it for you and Sarge. The Few the Proud > > the Marines! :o) > > > On Dec 4, 11:13 am, Hollywood <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > > > Mercury, > > > > Zach is a man and a Marine now. Love him, as a mother you always will, > > > and I guess you will always worry to some degree. But he has chosen > > > his own life and will have to accept the dangers that life entails. It > > > sounds to me as if he is doing well and is reasonably happy with his > > > decision. > > > Let's hope the political leaders in this country do not foolishly and/ > > > or needlessly risk his life. > > > > On Dec 4, 9:34 am, "Mercury.Sailor" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > > > > My Marine > > > > > My son Zachary was a gangly high-school junior when he casually > > > > informed me, in the fall of 2003, that he’d been speaking with > > > > military recruiters. “An Army guy, a Navy guy and a marine are coming > > > > over,” Zach said. “A parent has to be present because I’m not 18 yet.” > > > > > Past Lives Columns“I’ll be present,” I said. “Don’t worry.” > > > > > I wore my best vegan-dyed PEACE T-shirt. I was wary but not too > > > > worried. Zach was barely 17, graduation seemed far off still and the > > > > notion that he would volunteer was laughable. He didn’t like killing > > > > anything, even insects. The sight of blood made him gag. His favorite > > > > hobby was napping. > > > > > Army Guy turned up with a salesman’s enthusiasm. “How are you, ma’am?” > > > > he said to me, and answered himself in the next breath. “Great! Let’s > > > > just sit you down here. ... ” Soon the couch was covered with glossy > > > > brochures detailing the great accommodations at military bases in > > > > Italy and Germany, the great medical facilities, the great on-base > > > > T.G.I. Friday’s. Zach looked over my shoulder as I examined dreamy > > > > photos of Hawaiian bird life and Munich’s museums and beer festivals. > > > > “Great opportunities if he likes culture. ... ” > > > > > “What about the war?” I said. > > > > > “The Iraq thing?” I recall him saying. “That’ll be over in no time. > > > > Let’s take a look at some of the great educational benefits.” > > > > > Navy Guy had tender brown eyes and was endearingly soft around the > > > > middle of his white sailor suit. He confided to me, sotto voce, that > > > > the Navy had a really low casualty rate. “All the mothers ask,” he > > > > said, with a sad smile. He stayed for lunch, confiding in me about his > > > > girl troubles while Zach leafed through a pamphlet showing happy > > > > sailors on the deck of a destroyer. “Maybe I don’t want to be in the > > > > military after all,” Zach said later. “It seems kind of goofy.” > > > > > Then came the marine. He was fit and spit-shined. “My name is > > > > Sangster, ma’am. Rhymes with gangster.” As I remember it, that was > > > > pretty much all he said to me; his pitch was aimed at Zach. “The > > > > Marine Corps will make you puke, make you cry, and when that’s over, > > > > you’ll be sent to the most miserable, dangerous, godforsaken place on > > > > the planet. So let me ask you: Why should I let you join my corps?” > > > > > I opened my mouth to answer (“Goodbye!”) but was quelled by a sharp > > > > look from Zach. “Well ... um, sir,” he said. “I think I’m reasonably > > > > smart. But I don’t work very hard. I want you to teach me to work.” > > > > > Sangster looked at him for a long moment. “We can do that,” he said. > > > > > What could happen to my son’s body in Afghanistan or Iraq did not bear > > > > thinking about. Also unbearable was the thought of what he might have > > > > to see. My late father served in the Marine Corps in the Korean War > > > > and later became a combat correspondent. My first husband, Zach’s > > > > father, a state trooper, was killed in the line of duty when Zach was > > > > 9. > > > > > “Has it occurred to you that you might be looking for some version of > > > > what you lost when you lost your dad?” I pointed out, in my attempt to > > > > talk Zach out of joining. > > > > > “Of course,” he said calmly. Oh. > > > > > My second husband, Simon, is a peace-loving man. “I can’t say I trust > > > > Sergeant Sangster, or his corps,” Simon admitted. “But I do trust > > > > Zach.” > > > > > Zach graduated from Parris Island skinnier but still recognizably > > > > himself. After advanced combat training, he was sent off to Fort Meade > > > > to learn to be a correspondent for military publications. He lived > > > > with other newly minted marines in a barracks presided over by a man > > > > who swiftly became the main character in our boy’s stories. We > > > > pictured him as Louis Gossett Jr. teaching his charges to run faster > > > > and fight harder. He inspected their uniforms and gave out > > > > punishments, but he also took Zach’s temperature when he was ill and > > > > made sure Zach flossed his teeth and called his mom. This Sergeant > > > > Purcell even encouraged Zach to resume his interest in poetry. One > > > > day, Zach told us he ran 12 miles in record time. “I was on my knees, > > > > throwing up, and Sergeant Purcell was hollering, ‘That’s what I call a > > > > quality effort, Devil Dog!’ ” The pride in Zach’s voice brought tears > > > > to my eyes. > > > > > Sergeant Purcell later went to Iraq and was wounded. (Zach says he’s > > > > O.K.) My son was sent to Okinawa, where he fell in love with a blue- > > > > eyed lance corporal named Erin. They married, and in 2007 they were > > > > sent to San Diego, which did ease my mind somewhat. But this year Zach > > > > re-enlisted. Regardless of who becomes his commander in chief, I still > > > > cannot trust the world with my son — there are too many places where > > > > horrors lurk — but I do trust my son. > > > > > Kate Braestrup, a chaplain with the Maine Warden Service, is the > > > > author of a memoir, “Here If You Need Me.” > > > > >http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/02/magazine/02lives-t.html?_r=1-Hidequoted > > > > text - > > > > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text - > > > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text - > > - Show quoted text - --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ Thanks for being part of "PoliticalForum" at Google Groups. For options & help see http://groups.google.com/group/PoliticalForum
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