Letters to a Marine: Thoughts on Leaving for Iraq

My nephew (my brother's son) is a Marine leaving to be a checkpoint officer in Iraq in a month's time. It seems like only yesterday I was babysitting him as a toddler, watching him run his trucks back and forth through the dirt. Now, he is a young man with a wife and a child of his own. He carries the same name of his great uncle (his father's uncle) who was a 19-year-old Marine killed in Vietnam. My nephew will be 19 when he lands in Iraq.

I am terrified for my nephew. I have been adamantly against the war since it began, and I never thought it would come so close to home. My nephew knows this and we have had many talks about it. He realizes that one can be against the war but still support the troops and their families. I plan on sending him letters and care packages while he is in Iraq (if he is able to receive them). I will try to be hopeful and happy and supportive and uplifting. In reality, that is not how I feel much of the time concerning this seemingly endless war.

Dear Richie,

There are so many things I want to say to you before you leave for Iraq. It is still difficult for me to get the image out of my mind of you as a young boy, with your chubby cheeks and innocent eyes. You look so grown up in your uniform and I can't believe how much weight you lost in basic training. Your face has lost it's childish softness, and now a grown man's face is in it's place. I know how proud you are of being a Marine, and it is indeed quite an accomplishment. I know how hard you worked to get here, and I can see how much straighter you stand and how much more confident you look.

I can't help but remember though, that you have never really been out of your hometown. I can't help but realize that all the video games and movies and books you've seen involving war are going to do nothing to prepare you for what you will probably see in Iraq. I am so scared for you.

When we talk, I get this sense that you have romanticized this war in some way. I have the feeling that you believe it is just going to be another station, another job. I know I asked you a couple of times if you were scared and I don't know what to think about your response. On one hand, I think that you have the right attitude about things. You're going, that is a fact, and being scared about it won't do a damn thing to change it. All the other young boys are acting tough and nonchalant, there is no way you are going to show them you are scared. Well, if your limited life experience, nonchalance, and bravado is keeping the fear at bay, maybe that is a good thing. God knows, we are all scared for you.

When we talk on the phone I hear you saying a lot, "When I get back from Iraq..." followed by all the plans you have. It is good to have plans. It is good to think of the future. I love that you have the attitude that everything will be fine, but when you say the "when" I can't help the voice in my head that says, "IF". That tiny word is what keeps me up at night. IF you get back from Iraq. The knowledge that you could die over there, that being stationed as a checkpoint officer on the Iranian border heightens the risk of that, is something everyone in the family is talking about and terrified about.

When we are talking to you we try to keep it light and happy and hopeful, but let me tell you it is not easy. Especially for the older folks in our family. We were too young to know your uncle Rich -- but imagine how it feels to our family members who sent a nineteen year old marine of the same name to Vietnam only to have him return dead? Grandmom tells me it was the biggest funeral she has ever seen in her life and to this day she tears up when she thinks of it.

How could we live in a world without you? I know you and your dad have had some problems recently, but he would be absolutely devastated if something happened to you. We all would be. Why couldn't you have just gone to a community college and gotten a career that didn't involve the possibility of being blown to bits? Why did you have to be so stubborn when everyone tried to talk to you about the dangers of becoming a marine in a time of war? I know you have your reason for joining. Part of me feels that you had something to prove to everyone. You wanted to prove that you could do it, that you were a man now, that you could make your own decisions. Don't you know that you never had to prove anything to us? Don't you know that we love you for who you are, no matter what you do?

I pray you don't lose your life, and I pray you don't have to take a life. I just don't think you would ever be the same if you had to kill someone, even if you did so out of self -defense. No matter how intimidating you look in your uniform, we know the kind of heart you have. You are a sweet and sensitive man inside, and I am so scared that you will leave part of yourself in Iraq. Even if you come back in tact physically, I am so scared that you will see things and do things that you will never forget and that will haunt you. I hope for damn sure that the American government compensates you well (as if there is enough money that is worth risking your life).

I want you to know that the day you were born we (the whole family) were so happy. We loved you so much and knew you were going to do great things. Even if they may not be the things we would have chosen, they will be great because you are doing them. I want to tell you I love you. I want to tell you that I will pray for you every single day. I want you to do everything you can to stay safe, no matter what. I don't want you to be brave, I want you to stay alive. I want you to know that we need you, your family needs you, your wife and child need you. I want you to keep your kindness. I want you to remember that people are people, and that but for a few nutcases, most people over there are just trying to live their lives and do the best they can for their families. I want you to stay true to who you are and to keep your morals and values intact.

I want you to come home alive. I want you to come home whole. Just come home.

I love you,

Aunt Tara