Code Moron

What's the Difference?

Last night a friend and I were discussing the differences in the Army and the Marine Corps that may give John difficulty when adjusting. We could not help but laugh at some of them. A few could get John into trouble. The Marine Corps does not salute indoors, and the Army does. He is going to have to recondition himself on that one. I am willing to bet he will piss off a few officers before it sinks in and becomes second nature.

But the uniforms....no boot bands and bloused trouser legs, no cover block, and no rolled sleeves. I can see John now trying to do this with his ACU's.

Anyone who has never had the pleasure of knowing a Marine will not appreciate the comedy in all of this. They are purists, and view the Corps as the representation of all that is elite, disciplined. Name tags on uniforms? No way. They are "professionals". Patches on combat uniforms? What for? And what in the hell is up with that beret? I can almost see the look of disdain on John's face when he is told to wear it.

I am saying none of this to insult the Army. But the Marine Corps is a big, bad Boys' Club with their own set of standards. I swear they must check the testosterone levels of all recruits before allowing them to attempt to enlist. And my husband is a member. Some friends have equated the military to high school athletics. The Air Force is the Freshman team, the Army is Junior Varsity, and the Marine Corps is, of course, Varsity. "Where does this leave the Navy?", I asked.

"They are the cheerleaders!"

So what is my civilian take on all of this? Quite simply, we have different branches of the Armed Forces for a reason. Each does their job. Each is composed of our American brothers and sisters fighting so we do not have to. Each suffers the loss of the other. They are all brothers.

It's just that the Corps has a far-better swagger.

We are Learning!

Evan brought home a new school library book the other day because he thought his father would approve. It was called "Alpha Bravo Charlie" and it went through the letters of the military alphabet, using examples from each branch of the service as examples. For example, Lima is for "Leathernecks", which got a hearty "Oorah" from my husband. But the moral of the story is that Evan and I now know the military alphabet!

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliet, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec,Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, X-Ray, Yankee, Zulu......Hahahahahaha

Wardrobe Problem?

Okay.....My husband is one of those guys who will just throw on anything that is clean and hit the door. Sometimes this results in mismatches, or he will lift his arm in public and see a hole in the underarm or something equally embarrassing. I try to remove these items from circulation while doing his laundry, but am human and sometimes miss things.

So we are getting ready to leave to go and meet with his recruiter. I am frazzled, as I have an interview and am trying to make sure I have all that I need, so I do not pay any attention to what he is wearing. I know he does not look like a bum, as I would have noticed this.

We get to the recruiter's office, and all of the guys start commenting on what an ugly shirt he is wearing. I look and see he has a Marine Corps tee on with his jeans. To an Army recruiter's office!

The recruiters were teasing him, and told him he was not to wear it anymore, handing him an Army tee. He changed.

On another note, after a follow-up telephone conversation, it would seem all systems are go for the Army.

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On a completely different note: I love this song, and have been singing it in my head all day. Just an FYI.

Reenlistment News

We talked to the recruiters today. There is a document that is needed to get a waiver, so it is back to the paperwork. In the meantime, John fell off the wagon HARD over the holidays. We lived off of junk food while we were moving. After all, it is hard to cook when you can't find your cookware. Ha! But I was successful in getting the YMCA membership transferred yesterday, so there is nothing in his way as far as PT goes from now on. Oorah, John, get your ass in gear!

Old, Old, Old Picture!

John's boot camp picture. Haha! I know it looks like "Bert joins the Marine Corps", but this is my baby. Trust me, the unibrow is gone! Funny thing is, he looks like this again, without the unibrow and with broader shoulders added!

The Conversation

On My Watch Tonight Add to My Profile More Videos Finally, a real conversation regarding this decision John is making. It went like this: "John, you have to promise me that nothing is going to happen to you over there. my life cannot take any more tragedy. I will end up in a mental institution." "Then maybe I shouldn't go, because you know I cannot make that promise if I go off to war." "But you don't understand what I am saying to you. You need to do this for YOU, not me or Evan. We are tough and resilient. I don't want you to do it for us, for the same reason I don't want you to NOT do it because of us. This is about you, and whatever you do, I will support 100%. I just need to know what you want so I know. What do you want?" "Oooorah." Just like that. Total absence of doubt. Fire in his eyes. He knows.

For Sailors, Marines, Soldiers, Airmen....

My husband and I are in a phase where affected individuals need to be informed of his intentions. Family members, coworkers, and friends. I can wrap up most of the response with this: “Is he CRAZY?” One woman from my work even had some slight leakage from the orbitals when she heard the news. The more I ponder the reactions, the more I question the decision myself.

I was raised in an environment where military service was to be revered. My father served in the Army. Two brothers followed suit. As a matter of fact, one of my favorite childhood photos of myself was taken at my older brother’s boot camp graduation festivities. I am very small, about three years old, and I am sitting on his “rack”, wearing his “cover”. This is the same older brother who used his first paycheck after boot camp to purchase my very first bicycle, and subsequently hauled the purchase home from Fort Knox tied to the roof of a Ford Pinto. At that time in my history, a military career was a remarkable thing, something of which to be proud. A veteran of the United States Armed Forces was a precious thing, in demand of respect.

Fast forward many years later, and I find myself married to a veteran of the United States Marine Corps. While I will not even begin to speculate on the feelings of being a veteran, I can say emphatically, that the entire issue took on a different meaning for me. I am in awe of the uniforms hanging in my bedroom closet. I can run my hands over the fabric of the blood stripes that adorn the trousers and know that he earned those. I see the ribbons pinned on the chest and feel a swell of pride in my heart that this is my husband, my son’s father. To me, this is the fabric of our great nation.

As people make comments about the decision my husband has made to re-enlist, I wonder why that awe is not present in them. I could extrapolate an enormous political conclusion about this. I am trying to refrain from that. And at first, I felt like I had to justify the decision to others. Now, as the next leg of John’s military career looms larger and larger in the future, I have gotten past that point. Instead, I hold my head high, with my chin forward and my shoulders back. My husband, like all of you or your loved ones, was and still is brave enough to raise his hand and say, without hesitation, that he will fight for his country and her interests. He would willingly lay down his life if need be. For those who feel free to question the presence of sanity in the process of making this decision, his willingness (and yours) translates to the fact that they do not have to. They can sleep in a cozy and comfortable bed at night, with their loved ones a fingertip’s-reach away, safe from the world of which my family is on the brink of entering. The world my husband has already called his own once before. The world in which you live everyday.

I would love to conclude with a poetic and eloquent statement regarding the pride I feel in each of you, as a fellow American. I would love to express my gratitude satisfactorily. For the first time in my life, words fail me. For me, all of you are the United States. And should you ever be in the position we currently are, and others respond to your career choices with “Are you crazy?”, I would love for your response to be, “I may be a little crazy, but because I am, you don’t have to be.”

Attention, Please!

So my kid is in karate, right? We gave him a choice of activities, and this was his choice. We as parents thought "Sure, why not?" It will teach him discipline. So the process started.

The first week of class, a parent had to be present throughout the class. John wanted to go for his run, so I was elected by default. I watched, and it was so cute! Evan did well enough, I guess.

Fast Forward...One Week Later...John wanted to watch, as well. So we are sitting there, and little Evan has his back to us. They were expected to stand at attention in between exercises. We figured Evan could surely manage this. After all, he is the product of a Marine. Well, he couldn't! He fidgeted and giggled and moved, prompting the intervention of his Master many times. John's face was becoming more and more red, and the vein in his temple began to pulsate. He whispered to me, through gritted teeth, "I am so embarrassed!"

Needless, to say, when Evan got home that evening, John made him stand at attention for 15 minutes. Shouldn't be too bad, right? Wrong! Evan fidgeted and squirmed and whined through it, and the clock started over each time he did so. It was not a pleasant night for us. Who would have thought that a Marine's son could not stand at attention? Hahaha.

And so it begins...

I met him eight years ago, this Marine of mine with the liquid-brown eyes and heart of gold. He had this smile that was constatntly turned on, with these dimples that gave his face this childlike look of innocence. I am a practical, no-nonsense type of person, and never believed in such a thing, but it was love at first sight. Cheesy? Yes. True? Absolutely. We were together constantly from the day that we met. Within a few short months, I went from being a proud, I-don't-need-anyone woman to a I-can't live-without-this-man fool. We built a life together in a short period of time, and I became a Mrs. Then a child was born. A child that had all of the good qualities of both his mother and father rolled into an amazing little bundle. What we vowed on the day we got married, to cleave only to each other, has never had such meaning as it has with us. We would build each other up, only to have the world knock us down again. If there is one thing that I would say is credited to the amount of time we have had together, it would have to be our ability to dust off the pieces and build anew. We have been on the verge of divorce over hurtful actions. We have been homeless and hungry, and we have been well-off financially. We have been tried again and again. But regardless of where life has taken us or where it will take us in the future, we will do this together, as gracefully as we can. So I started this blog.....Why? He is leaving me, and I don't know if I can cope. Almost a year ago, we relocated for my career, and so we are alienated. This blog, like a school-girl's diary, is intended to be my outlet for all of the thoughts that are swirling around in my head. These are thoughts I don't know if I can share with him, as I don't want to break him down as he is just reaching his strongest state in the years I have known him and been by his side. You see, he is re-enlisting in the military. It has been awhile since I have seen the salty Marine I married. He turned civilian. He got soft and beaten down by the world in which we live. He became wishy-washy on his outlook and what exactly it is that he wants to accomplish in his life. But a few short weeks ago, he made a decision to do this, and he changed. For the first time in a long time, I saw emerging the man I married. His shoulders are no longer slumped, his head no longer bowed. For the first time in a long time, he is sure of what he wants and how he is going to make it happen. And he knows what to do, and how to do it well. I watch this transformation, and see that, because of my love for him, I cannot let him see how truly frightened I am. How devastated I will be to see him go. None of these matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that his shoulders are no longer slumped, his head no longer bowed, and that the sparkle is back in his eyes. He has been there for me as I embarked on the journey to start a very challenging endeavor. Now the roles have reversed, and it is my turn to show, through my actions, that I will go the distance with him and support him in all that he does in his life. So here you have it....The blog of a civilian American housewife as she transforms into a proud military wife. A virtual diary of the sacrifice countless American families are making as we speak. The birth of a brand-spanking-new military wife.