"Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." -John 15:13
This past summer I began a new chapter in my life: I became a reserve military chaplain, specifically, a Navy Chaplain. The US Navy Chaplain Corps has been around since the Continental Congress formed it in 1775 to minister to the needs of those serving their country. Navy Chaplains serve not only the Navy, but the Marines and Coast Guard, as well. Why am I telling you this? Because of what I have seen in just my few months as a Naval Officer.
I have been assigned to work specifically with the 1st Division of the 1st Marines Expeditionary Force at Camp Pendleton. The men and women I speak with, hump (hike) with, ride with, fly with, eat with, and so on, are not Marines because they wish to be war mongers. For the most part, these are kids right out of high school, the same age as the students I walk around the CLU campus with. These young folk are saddled with the responsibility of firearms and hand grenades and tanks and humvees -- and the responsibility of knowing when and when not to use them. One cannot honestly look at the Marine Corps and say that they are about love and peace. But I can look at the individuals who comprise that group and see that for many of them, that is what they are personally about. These Marines joined up not to kill, but to be part of something worthwhile. When I speak with them, they are not about the war on terror, earning medals, blowing up Iraq. They are about each other. When on a hump (hike), if one starts to fall back, their whole team will rally around that person, push them on, not leaving them behind. It is shocking to me that when thinking of what the popular culture sells as "The Marines" --how I thought of the Marines -- how off base I was. It is truly amazing how compassionate and gentle they are with each other. I look at these young men and women and know without any question that they would die for the sake of those around them without a second's hesitation. Greater love has no one than this.
Whether you agree or disagree with "The War on Terrorism", whether you are Democrat or Republican, whether you served in the armed forces or protested the armed forces, whether you are a pacifist or a card-carrying member of the NRA, it makes no difference -- Christ calls us to be about two things alone: God and each other. As disciples of Jesus we have but one example to follow. As apprentices to the Word-made-flesh, we have but one voice to heed. He came down that we might have love and have peace -- who are we to offer anything different to those around us?
AND WE PRAY: Lord God, we pray for all of those who put themselves in harm's way for the sake of others, like our military, our fire departments, and our police. Grant them safety, grant them wisdom in judgment, grant them peace -- true peace. Let all the people of the world become instruments of your love and peace. Start with us.
Showing posts with label Inspirational. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inspirational. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Wounded Marines Focus on Film Careers
Chelsea J. Carter - Associated Press January 22, 2008
SAN DIEGO - Joshua Frey looked through the view finder of his camera in a studio production lot, focusing on a group of helmets atop wooden stakes.
They reminded the former U.S. Marine of the memorials to fallen comrades he had seen before he was shot and hit by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade in Iraq, which left him with partial use of his left arm, traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder that still haunts his nights.
Frey, like many disabled veterans, has struggled to find a career, to rebuild a life.
Now, more than two years after being wounded in Fallujah, Frey has enrolled in the Wounded Marine Career Foundation program, which aims to help wounded and disabled Marines and Navy corpsmen land jobs in the film industry.
The photos in the studio lot were part assignment, part therapy for Frey. Perhaps, he says, his attempt to use a camera is a new beginning, a path to a new career.
"There's so much riding on this, it has just got to work," Frey says.
With more than 29,000 troops wounded in combat since Sept. 11, 2001, job training for the disabled is a priority for the military.
But unlike many training centers, the foundation's new film boot camp aims to do more than provide skills that help the disabled find a career in film, video, sound design, graphics and photojournalism.
It also aims to let the wounded tell their own stories, says co-founder Kev Lombard, a documentary filmmaker and two-time Emmy-winning director of photography for the children's television show "Reading Rainbow."
Lombard came up with the idea for the foundation's Wounded Marine Training Center for Careers in Media program after being asked by a friend in the military nearly two years ago to document the stories of wounded veterans at military hospitals.
"It wasn't our story to tell. It was theirs," he said. "So I said how about we teach them to tell their own story."
In addition to veterans whose war injuries forced them to retire, the Marine Corps is allowing active duty wounded Marines to enroll.
Lombard and his wife, Judith Paixao, use private and corporate donations and federal grants to operate the program, which costs $2 million (euro1.36 million) for each 10-week session. They plan two sessions a year.
"This isn't about turning out the next Steven Spielberg," Lombard said. "It's about turning out a camera operator, a grip, a boom operator. These are good jobs with good pay."
Amy Lemisch of the California Film Commission says the boot camp appears to be offering nuts-and-bolts skills that are often missing from college film schools.
SAN DIEGO - Joshua Frey looked through the view finder of his camera in a studio production lot, focusing on a group of helmets atop wooden stakes.
They reminded the former U.S. Marine of the memorials to fallen comrades he had seen before he was shot and hit by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade in Iraq, which left him with partial use of his left arm, traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder that still haunts his nights.
Frey, like many disabled veterans, has struggled to find a career, to rebuild a life.
Now, more than two years after being wounded in Fallujah, Frey has enrolled in the Wounded Marine Career Foundation program, which aims to help wounded and disabled Marines and Navy corpsmen land jobs in the film industry.
The photos in the studio lot were part assignment, part therapy for Frey. Perhaps, he says, his attempt to use a camera is a new beginning, a path to a new career.
"There's so much riding on this, it has just got to work," Frey says.
With more than 29,000 troops wounded in combat since Sept. 11, 2001, job training for the disabled is a priority for the military.
But unlike many training centers, the foundation's new film boot camp aims to do more than provide skills that help the disabled find a career in film, video, sound design, graphics and photojournalism.
It also aims to let the wounded tell their own stories, says co-founder Kev Lombard, a documentary filmmaker and two-time Emmy-winning director of photography for the children's television show "Reading Rainbow."
Lombard came up with the idea for the foundation's Wounded Marine Training Center for Careers in Media program after being asked by a friend in the military nearly two years ago to document the stories of wounded veterans at military hospitals.
"It wasn't our story to tell. It was theirs," he said. "So I said how about we teach them to tell their own story."
In addition to veterans whose war injuries forced them to retire, the Marine Corps is allowing active duty wounded Marines to enroll.
Lombard and his wife, Judith Paixao, use private and corporate donations and federal grants to operate the program, which costs $2 million (euro1.36 million) for each 10-week session. They plan two sessions a year.
"This isn't about turning out the next Steven Spielberg," Lombard said. "It's about turning out a camera operator, a grip, a boom operator. These are good jobs with good pay."
Amy Lemisch of the California Film Commission says the boot camp appears to be offering nuts-and-bolts skills that are often missing from college film schools.
"It's almost like an apprenticeship," she said.
While jobs in the film industry are highly competitive, Lemisch said the students could find jobs if they develop the right skills.
The program's camouflage-painted building on a studio production lot in San Diego has a Marine Corps atmosphere. Posters from "The Sands of Iwo Jima" and "The Flying Leathernecks" adorn the walls, and the 20 students are broken up into five-member squads.
Paixao says Marines and Navy corpsmen are well-suited for film work because of their discipline and teamwork.
However, many of the wounded and disabled have been removed from military life for some time. As a result, the program emphasizes Marine Corps discipline, says photography student and former Gunnery Sgt. Nick Popaditch.
He has taken on the role of the program's gunnery sergeant, so to speak - briefing students on the day's events and helping new arrivals to San Diego navigate the city.
Popaditch gained widespread attention as the "Cigar Marine" during the fall of Baghdad when a photographer for The Associated Press captured him smiling and smoking a cigar. A year later, he was severely wounded in Fallujah by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade that hit him in the face, damaging one eye and causing him to lose the other.
Many students have severe wounds that require modification of film equipment. Barry Green, an Emmy-award winning producer, worked with Popaditch to figure out how best to use video and still cameras with his injured eye.
"I'm feeling more comfortable with it," Popaditch said hours later, looking through the camera's eye piece.
Across the room, former Gunnery Sgt. Tai Cleveland, 42, worked on loading editing software onto his laptop computer.
It's the first step in what Cleveland hopes will be a new career. He uses a wheelchair since a 2003 training accident in Kuwait caused back and brain injuries, and supports his family on his disability check.
Cleveland dreams of one day building a production studio in his home in Manassas, Virginia, and he and his wife, Robin, have begun putting together a business plan.
"It's a way for me to take back as head of the household with a career that I can do from a wheelchair," he says during the lunch break.
Standing in the cluttered studio lot, instructor Levie Isaacks works with Frey, 31, to complete the day's assignment: shooting a series of five photos that set a scene.
Frey focuses on the helmets, which sit near a box of blank ammunition. For a moment he considers taking pictures. But then he decides against it, saying later that the scene didn't look real.
Isaacks knows a bit what Frey has faced in war, having suffered post-traumatic stress himself as a Vietnam War veteran.
Isaacks has taken the road from combat veteran to Emmy Award-winning directory of photography, whose credits include Fox's "Malcolm in the Middle" and the recent film "Grace," starring Elizabeth Shue.
"You look through that lens and the world is focused," Isaacks says.
Retired Air Force general brings fight to ALS
By Jill Coley - The (Charleston) Post and CourierPosted : Tuesday Jan 22, 2008 9:57:21 EST
CHARLESTON, S.C. — Four-and-a-half years have passed since Tom Mikolajcik was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease. Seventy percent of people with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis die within five years. Time is not on his side.
Now, Mikolajcik must make decisions about how he will face the last stages of the disease before he loses the ability to do so.
The degenerative disease, which is known for killing New York Yankees first baseman Gehrig, strikes about 15 Americans daily, shutting down nerve cells responsible for movement. Limbs weaken and atrophy before paralysis spreads to the trunk of the body. Eventually, speaking, breathing and eating are affected.
Patients must decide if they want to go on a ventilator and feeding tube to hold off the inevitable a little longer.
“Today, my decision is, I will put in a feeding tube even before I need it,” Mikolajcik said. “Today, my feeling is, I want to go on a ventilator as long as I can communicate with family and friends.”
The retired Air Force general and former commander of Charleston Air Force Base is taking charge of these critical decisions by participating in a medical study testing diaphragm-pacing stimulators in ALS patients. Located below the lungs, the diaphragm is the large muscle used for respiration.
The pacing device stimulates the diaphragm with surgically implanted electrodes to maintain muscle mass. The stimulator, already used in people with spinal cord injuries, might delay the need for a ventilator by more than a year.
During the surgery, a feeding tube also will be inserted, although Mikolajcik does not yet need one. “The sooner you have the procedure, the better,” he said.
Dr. Raymond Onders, director of minimally invasive surgery at the Medical University Hospital’s Case Medical Center in Cleveland, pioneered the technology and the procedure. The late actor Christopher Reeve, who suffered from a spinal cord injury, was Onders’ second patient to receive a stimulator.
ALS is a fatal disease, but theoretically, people could live indefinitely with a tracheotomy and ventilator. But most don’t want to do that, Onders said.
Doctors can predict when ALS patients will die based on their rate of decline in respiratory function.
To measure the success of the stimulator, Onders looks for decreases in that rate.
“It’s not a cure,” he said.
Mikolajcik was successfully fitted with a stimulator last week in Cleveland. He is part of a 100-person trial in six U.S. sites. Onders previously completed a safety trial implanting the device in 16 ALS patients whose decline in breathing function slowed, delaying the need for a ventilator by more than a year.
“I want to be able to listen, watch and absorb my children and grandchildren as they grow and change,” Mikolajcik said. The mind and senses remain unaffected by the disease. But as time passes and the body shuts down, the ability to communicate diminishes.
Toward the end of the disease, some people use their eyes, looking right or left to signal “yes” or “no.” In preparation for the time he will become speechless, Mikolajcik recorded himself singing “A Bushel and A Peck” to be played when his grandchildren are placed in his lap.
In August 2003, the retired general went to the doctor with a minor complaint: He was feeling tired and not hitting his golf balls as far, he said. The doctor noticed a slight twitching in Mikolajcik’s chest called fasciculation.
The doctor told him the best-case scenario was a benign tic, and the worst case was ALS. Mikolajcik went home and Googled ALS.
“I almost fell out of my chair,” he said. The muscles in his arms shut down first, then his legs. He can move his left thumb and index finger, and if he concentrates and is well rested, he can move his left wrist and ankles. Little is known about ALS, which was discovered in 1869.
“In 70 years, there’s only one questionable drug that may extend life by three years,” Mikolajcik said. “In 70 years. Give me a break.”
For unknown reasons, veterans have a 60 percent higher chance of developing ALS. That high rate is why Mikolajcik said he feels strongly that the government has a higher responsibility to advance ALS research.
He has visited Congress three times to push for ALS research and testified before a congressional committee in July. Legislation to establish an ALS database that will warehouse information on the disease for scientists and patients has passed the House and is awaiting consideration by the Senate.
“I am blessed that I’m a Type-A personality,” Mikolajcik said. “What about those who take no for an answer?”
Source
CHARLESTON, S.C. — Four-and-a-half years have passed since Tom Mikolajcik was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease. Seventy percent of people with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis die within five years. Time is not on his side.
Now, Mikolajcik must make decisions about how he will face the last stages of the disease before he loses the ability to do so.
The degenerative disease, which is known for killing New York Yankees first baseman Gehrig, strikes about 15 Americans daily, shutting down nerve cells responsible for movement. Limbs weaken and atrophy before paralysis spreads to the trunk of the body. Eventually, speaking, breathing and eating are affected.
Patients must decide if they want to go on a ventilator and feeding tube to hold off the inevitable a little longer.
“Today, my decision is, I will put in a feeding tube even before I need it,” Mikolajcik said. “Today, my feeling is, I want to go on a ventilator as long as I can communicate with family and friends.”
The retired Air Force general and former commander of Charleston Air Force Base is taking charge of these critical decisions by participating in a medical study testing diaphragm-pacing stimulators in ALS patients. Located below the lungs, the diaphragm is the large muscle used for respiration.
The pacing device stimulates the diaphragm with surgically implanted electrodes to maintain muscle mass. The stimulator, already used in people with spinal cord injuries, might delay the need for a ventilator by more than a year.
During the surgery, a feeding tube also will be inserted, although Mikolajcik does not yet need one. “The sooner you have the procedure, the better,” he said.
Dr. Raymond Onders, director of minimally invasive surgery at the Medical University Hospital’s Case Medical Center in Cleveland, pioneered the technology and the procedure. The late actor Christopher Reeve, who suffered from a spinal cord injury, was Onders’ second patient to receive a stimulator.
ALS is a fatal disease, but theoretically, people could live indefinitely with a tracheotomy and ventilator. But most don’t want to do that, Onders said.
Doctors can predict when ALS patients will die based on their rate of decline in respiratory function.
To measure the success of the stimulator, Onders looks for decreases in that rate.
“It’s not a cure,” he said.
Mikolajcik was successfully fitted with a stimulator last week in Cleveland. He is part of a 100-person trial in six U.S. sites. Onders previously completed a safety trial implanting the device in 16 ALS patients whose decline in breathing function slowed, delaying the need for a ventilator by more than a year.
“I want to be able to listen, watch and absorb my children and grandchildren as they grow and change,” Mikolajcik said. The mind and senses remain unaffected by the disease. But as time passes and the body shuts down, the ability to communicate diminishes.
Toward the end of the disease, some people use their eyes, looking right or left to signal “yes” or “no.” In preparation for the time he will become speechless, Mikolajcik recorded himself singing “A Bushel and A Peck” to be played when his grandchildren are placed in his lap.
In August 2003, the retired general went to the doctor with a minor complaint: He was feeling tired and not hitting his golf balls as far, he said. The doctor noticed a slight twitching in Mikolajcik’s chest called fasciculation.
The doctor told him the best-case scenario was a benign tic, and the worst case was ALS. Mikolajcik went home and Googled ALS.
“I almost fell out of my chair,” he said. The muscles in his arms shut down first, then his legs. He can move his left thumb and index finger, and if he concentrates and is well rested, he can move his left wrist and ankles. Little is known about ALS, which was discovered in 1869.
“In 70 years, there’s only one questionable drug that may extend life by three years,” Mikolajcik said. “In 70 years. Give me a break.”
For unknown reasons, veterans have a 60 percent higher chance of developing ALS. That high rate is why Mikolajcik said he feels strongly that the government has a higher responsibility to advance ALS research.
He has visited Congress three times to push for ALS research and testified before a congressional committee in July. Legislation to establish an ALS database that will warehouse information on the disease for scientists and patients has passed the House and is awaiting consideration by the Senate.
“I am blessed that I’m a Type-A personality,” Mikolajcik said. “What about those who take no for an answer?”
Source
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Moms in Service to Their Wounded
Though the above title is the original for the article, I would like to take a moment and also give equal recognition to wives. As you read on, it states that half of the family members aiding the wounded are wives. Although we see these heroes with different eyes, the love and commitment both mothers and wives have toward these brave warriors cannot be broken by anyone or anything.
Associated Press January 02, 2008
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - Rose Lage swears it is true: Suddenly, in the midst of a fitful night of sleep last June, she knew that her son had been injured in Iraq.
"I heard my son's voice," she recalls. "It might sound weird, but I heard him holler 'Mama!'"
It turned out U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Michael Lage was the only survivor of a blast that killed four others. He suffered third-degree burns to nearly half his body; part of his nose and ears were missing, and his face, scalp, arms and torso were seared. His left hand had to be amputated.
Rose Lage, 54, understood her son's life would change. But she did not understand how much her own quiet life - a life spent playing with grandkids, fishing and preparing for her husband's retirement - would change, as well.
She would exchange her two-story house in Atlanta for a hotel room on an Army post, watch her nest egg shrink and spend her days helping a 30-year-old son change bandages and wriggle into garments meant to reduce scarring.
The sacrifices of injured Soldiers, airmen and Marines are recognized with medals and commendations. But the mothers and wives who arrive here wide-eyed and afraid make their own sacrifices - abandoning jobs and homes and delaying retirement to help their wounded children reclaim their lives.
"The women here are the heroes, every bit the heroes as their Soldiers," said Judith Markelz, who runs a 4-year-old program to aid the families of injured Soldiers sent here for treatment. "These kids could not survive without their women."
---
The patients who arrive at Fort Sam Houston are among the worst wounded in war, suffering the kind of injuries that killed their predecessors in earlier conflicts.
So far, about 600 burn victims and 250 amputees have been sent here to recover at the Army's only burn center and at an amputee rehabilitation program set up since the start of the Iraq war. Their injuries will take multiple surgeries and months or years of recovery and rehabilitation.
When the injured arrive, fathers and siblings often come for the first surgeries. But the wives and mothers most often stay, Markelz said. They quit jobs, give up health insurance and abandon homes.
"None of us realized people were going to be here two years. That's not your normal hospital stay," Markelz said. "They didn't want to make San Antonio their home. Now, they can vote here."
Markelz, the wife of a retired army officer, was hired four years ago to start the Warrior and Family Support Center, a program that has grown from a few computers in converted conference rooms to a catchall program for families of the wounded.
The Army provides housing for families in a post hotel or at one of the Fisher Houses, family-style dorms with a living room, kitchen and dining room. But most arrive with few or no friends and with little understanding of what they or their wounded family member will face.
"They come in with their purses like this," said Markelz, hugging her chest. "They look like a deer in headlights."
The assistance center - which will move to a new 12,000-square-foot (110-square-meter) building next year - provides meals, a place for baffled family members to seek advice, rides to shopping, just about anything Markelz's staff can do to help.
Among the family members here for the long haul, about half are wives and half mothers.
Markelz said it is especially hard on wives of guardsmen and reservists and on middle-aged mothers of Soldiers - women who had well-established civilian lives away from the typically nomadic life of active military families.
"They didn't sign up for that," she said.
---
Staff Sgt. Michael Lage had always been an independent kid. The youngest of three and the only boy, he was the first to leave home. He joined the Army at 18.
He served two full tours in Iraq, first in 2003 and again two years later.
Through both tours, his mother prayed and lit a yellow candle every day at a shrine fashioned from his photo, angel figurines and military mementos in front of her fireplace in Atlanta. She continued the ritual when he was deployed a third time in May.
But less than a month later, his Bradley Fighting Vehicle was hit by a bomb in Baghdad. Lage was the only one who managed to crawl out or get blown free of the wreckage. He was on fire, still carrying his gun, witnesses later told his family.
Rose Lage and her husband, Larry, arrived in San Antonio to find Michael in intensive care in a medically induced coma. He was covered in bandages with tubes coming in and out of his body.
His mother recognized her son by his long dark eyelashes. But she wasn't allowed to touch him, couldn't embrace him the way she longed to.
"It took everything I had to be strong," she said, her voice breaking.
Now, six months have passed since she arrived in San Antonio with one large suitcase.
Her husband stayed as long as he could, but he had to return to work after the couple tapped their retirement savings for months.
Her two daughters, too, have come to help, but they have their own homes and young children to care for.
Rose has not gone anywhere.
Pieces of her wardrobe have arrived with family members as the seasons changed and as she lost weight from crisscrossing the post on foot. A few photos of grandchildren have gone up around the hotel room, along with American Indian charms meant to protect against nightmares.
Rose has cobbled together an unexpected life here, learning her way around town and building new routines and friendships.
Days of housekeeping and care for grandchildren have been replaced with new routines: the careful wrapping of gauze around reddened skin, vigilant adherence to medication regiments, the zipping and buttoning of Michael's clothes.
"We've given up a lot for him," Rose concedes, sitting in a hotel room where a giant flag signed by her son's unit hangs. "We'd give up a lot more for him."
Michael is grateful for his mother's help, but parents and adult children living together can get on each other's nerves. The close quarters and the stress chafe.
"I appreciate her being here, but living in a small hotel room with your mom tends to wear on you a bit," Michael says.
A career Soldier and divorced father of 8-year-old twins, he never dreamed he'd be living with or reliant on his mother at age 30. (His son and daughter live in Tennessee with their mother.)
Even as a child, he was never good at asking for help, Rose says.
"That's what annoys her most: I never ask for help," he says.
Rose struggles, too, because she knows he doesn't tell her everything. He holds back some of the emotional and mental struggles that come with such serious injuries and with the memories of friends lost at war.
"It's been very hard because I know he is frustrated because I'm a mom and I haven't been there. I guess he thinks I don't know what's going on," she says.
"They forget that you're a person. You have a life, that you have feelings."
---
The Lages both finally left San Antonio on Dec. 15 for a Christmas trip to see Michael's children and other family and friends.
But Michael must return in January to face a series of surgeries to reconstruct his elbow, and eventually his amputated arm and his nose and ears. It will probably take another year of treatment and rehabilitation.
That means Rose will be back, too.
"I will always be here for him no matter what. He can always depend on me. I will never leave him," she says, looking at Michael. "I'll be here for my other kids, too. That's what a mom's for. I would give up my life for him, and if I could give him my other hand, I would."
At that, Michael quickly brushes away a tear, and his mother adds one last thing: "He's my baby."
Associated Press January 02, 2008
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - Rose Lage swears it is true: Suddenly, in the midst of a fitful night of sleep last June, she knew that her son had been injured in Iraq.
"I heard my son's voice," she recalls. "It might sound weird, but I heard him holler 'Mama!'"
It turned out U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Michael Lage was the only survivor of a blast that killed four others. He suffered third-degree burns to nearly half his body; part of his nose and ears were missing, and his face, scalp, arms and torso were seared. His left hand had to be amputated.
Rose Lage, 54, understood her son's life would change. But she did not understand how much her own quiet life - a life spent playing with grandkids, fishing and preparing for her husband's retirement - would change, as well.
She would exchange her two-story house in Atlanta for a hotel room on an Army post, watch her nest egg shrink and spend her days helping a 30-year-old son change bandages and wriggle into garments meant to reduce scarring.
The sacrifices of injured Soldiers, airmen and Marines are recognized with medals and commendations. But the mothers and wives who arrive here wide-eyed and afraid make their own sacrifices - abandoning jobs and homes and delaying retirement to help their wounded children reclaim their lives.
"The women here are the heroes, every bit the heroes as their Soldiers," said Judith Markelz, who runs a 4-year-old program to aid the families of injured Soldiers sent here for treatment. "These kids could not survive without their women."
---
The patients who arrive at Fort Sam Houston are among the worst wounded in war, suffering the kind of injuries that killed their predecessors in earlier conflicts.
So far, about 600 burn victims and 250 amputees have been sent here to recover at the Army's only burn center and at an amputee rehabilitation program set up since the start of the Iraq war. Their injuries will take multiple surgeries and months or years of recovery and rehabilitation.
When the injured arrive, fathers and siblings often come for the first surgeries. But the wives and mothers most often stay, Markelz said. They quit jobs, give up health insurance and abandon homes.
"None of us realized people were going to be here two years. That's not your normal hospital stay," Markelz said. "They didn't want to make San Antonio their home. Now, they can vote here."
Markelz, the wife of a retired army officer, was hired four years ago to start the Warrior and Family Support Center, a program that has grown from a few computers in converted conference rooms to a catchall program for families of the wounded.
The Army provides housing for families in a post hotel or at one of the Fisher Houses, family-style dorms with a living room, kitchen and dining room. But most arrive with few or no friends and with little understanding of what they or their wounded family member will face.
"They come in with their purses like this," said Markelz, hugging her chest. "They look like a deer in headlights."
The assistance center - which will move to a new 12,000-square-foot (110-square-meter) building next year - provides meals, a place for baffled family members to seek advice, rides to shopping, just about anything Markelz's staff can do to help.
Among the family members here for the long haul, about half are wives and half mothers.
Markelz said it is especially hard on wives of guardsmen and reservists and on middle-aged mothers of Soldiers - women who had well-established civilian lives away from the typically nomadic life of active military families.
"They didn't sign up for that," she said.
---
Staff Sgt. Michael Lage had always been an independent kid. The youngest of three and the only boy, he was the first to leave home. He joined the Army at 18.
He served two full tours in Iraq, first in 2003 and again two years later.
Through both tours, his mother prayed and lit a yellow candle every day at a shrine fashioned from his photo, angel figurines and military mementos in front of her fireplace in Atlanta. She continued the ritual when he was deployed a third time in May.
But less than a month later, his Bradley Fighting Vehicle was hit by a bomb in Baghdad. Lage was the only one who managed to crawl out or get blown free of the wreckage. He was on fire, still carrying his gun, witnesses later told his family.
Rose Lage and her husband, Larry, arrived in San Antonio to find Michael in intensive care in a medically induced coma. He was covered in bandages with tubes coming in and out of his body.
His mother recognized her son by his long dark eyelashes. But she wasn't allowed to touch him, couldn't embrace him the way she longed to.
"It took everything I had to be strong," she said, her voice breaking.
Now, six months have passed since she arrived in San Antonio with one large suitcase.
Her husband stayed as long as he could, but he had to return to work after the couple tapped their retirement savings for months.
Her two daughters, too, have come to help, but they have their own homes and young children to care for.
Rose has not gone anywhere.
Pieces of her wardrobe have arrived with family members as the seasons changed and as she lost weight from crisscrossing the post on foot. A few photos of grandchildren have gone up around the hotel room, along with American Indian charms meant to protect against nightmares.
Rose has cobbled together an unexpected life here, learning her way around town and building new routines and friendships.
Days of housekeeping and care for grandchildren have been replaced with new routines: the careful wrapping of gauze around reddened skin, vigilant adherence to medication regiments, the zipping and buttoning of Michael's clothes.
"We've given up a lot for him," Rose concedes, sitting in a hotel room where a giant flag signed by her son's unit hangs. "We'd give up a lot more for him."
Michael is grateful for his mother's help, but parents and adult children living together can get on each other's nerves. The close quarters and the stress chafe.
"I appreciate her being here, but living in a small hotel room with your mom tends to wear on you a bit," Michael says.
A career Soldier and divorced father of 8-year-old twins, he never dreamed he'd be living with or reliant on his mother at age 30. (His son and daughter live in Tennessee with their mother.)
Even as a child, he was never good at asking for help, Rose says.
"That's what annoys her most: I never ask for help," he says.
Rose struggles, too, because she knows he doesn't tell her everything. He holds back some of the emotional and mental struggles that come with such serious injuries and with the memories of friends lost at war.
"It's been very hard because I know he is frustrated because I'm a mom and I haven't been there. I guess he thinks I don't know what's going on," she says.
"They forget that you're a person. You have a life, that you have feelings."
---
The Lages both finally left San Antonio on Dec. 15 for a Christmas trip to see Michael's children and other family and friends.
But Michael must return in January to face a series of surgeries to reconstruct his elbow, and eventually his amputated arm and his nose and ears. It will probably take another year of treatment and rehabilitation.
That means Rose will be back, too.
"I will always be here for him no matter what. He can always depend on me. I will never leave him," she says, looking at Michael. "I'll be here for my other kids, too. That's what a mom's for. I would give up my life for him, and if I could give him my other hand, I would."
At that, Michael quickly brushes away a tear, and his mother adds one last thing: "He's my baby."
Monday, December 10, 2007
Christmas Tree Program Brings Troops Cheer
Associated Press December 10, 2007
WESTMINSTER, Md. - Sprawled in his recliner, tired and achy after three days of nearly nonstop work, James Ward hardly looks like Santa Claus.
But this laid-off truck driver has just made Christmas brighter for thousands of U.S. service members overseas by mailing them miniature, live spruce trees with all the holiday trimmings.
But this laid-off truck driver has just made Christmas brighter for thousands of U.S. service members overseas by mailing them miniature, live spruce trees with all the holiday trimmings.
A year after Ward started Operation Christmas Tree to cheer up his deployed stepdaughter and a few dozen of her fellow soldiers in Iraq, the project has blossomed into a national campaign that shipped 5,000 potted trees this season.
About 2,200 of the 2-foot trees - packed along with bags of colorful ornaments and battery-powered lights - were mailed Dec. 3 to individual service members, mostly in Afghanistan and Iraq, whose families paid $20 to Ward's nonprofit organization.
Some of those service members also received a batch of 50 or 60 extra trees to share with others. Other batches were sent to chaplains in the war zone to hand out to anyone in uniform who wants one.
The $80,000 balance not paid by donations was covered by the Armed Forces Foundation, a Washington-based nonprofit that helps the families of deployed troops. Local businesses also collected donations.
For Ward, 34, Operation Christmas Tree is an expression of the code he was taught by a firefighter uncle: "I was always brought up that if somebody's in need of something, you help them."
The same principle prompted Ward to lead a convoy of donated goods to Gulf Coast hurricane victims in 2005. "If you can get seven tractor-trailer loads down to Katrina with all that going on, you can ship 5,000 trees," he said.
But not without a lot of help. About 350 volunteers from as far away as Phoenix helped the Ward family pack the trees for shipment Dec. 1, working close together in a 40-by-60-foot rented tent at the nearby Carroll County Agriculture Center. Donated barbecued beef fed the volunteers. The trees, purchased from a North Carolina grower, had been parked there for a month, kept alive with regular waterings by the Westminster Fire Department.
The president of the Armed Forces Foundation, Patricia Driscoll, said Operation Christmas Tree is a joy for her staff members, who spend most of their time arranging housing, counseling and other services for families of injured warriors.
"When you're dealing with the sick and wounded all the time, it can get depressing. This was really fun," she said.
This year's 5,000 trees were a huge increase over the 75 that Operation Christmas Tree shipped last year - half to Ward's Army medic stepdaughter, Spc. Luisa Gonzalez, and members of her unit. Gonzalez, 23, now stationed at Fort Hood, Texas, while awaiting discharge early next year, came home to help with the tree packing.
"I've been that person on the other end and it just meant a lot to be there to see the next wave," she said. "In Iraq, every day's the same - no holiday - so that little piece of home gives that holiday season something special."
Ward's wife, Betty; stepdaughter Elizabeth, 20, and daughter, Marie, 2, also worked on Operation Christmas Tree.
Photographs of Ward and his wife meeting first lady Laura Bush and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice are displayed on the living room wall, and a scrapbook is filled with thank-you notes from service members and their families.
But Ward said there's one reward he's missing: seeing the trees as they're received by the troops.
"I'd love to be a fly on the wall to watch them open them," he said. "Trust me, it's satisfying doing it, but it would be so cool to see these guys open some of them."
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Patriot Day - God Bless Each & Every One!
I watched the flag pass by one day,
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert,
He'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him,
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.
I heard the sound of Taps one night,
When everything was still,
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times,
That Taps had meant "Amen".
When a flag had draped a coffin,
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands,
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard,
At the bottom of the sea,
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.
Enjoy Your Freedom & God Bless Our Troops
Friday, August 31, 2007
In league with the stones...
You know one of the things I have enjoyed so much about blogging is all the wonderful people I have come in contact with through this blog that I might have never know otherwise. I have made some great friends. Some I have met in person and some only via other blogs and email. I am blessed to know each one of them.
The following is from former WWII and Korean War Marine, Sgt Jim Baxter. He sent this beautiful and wise essay to me in an email and I am so honored that he has allowed me to share it here. God bless you Sgt Baxter! Thank you for your service. It is a privilege to correspond with you.
Every September, I recall that is more than half a century (62 years) since I landed at Nagasaki with the 2nd Marine Division in the original occupation of Japan following World War II. This time every year, I have watched and listened to the light-hearted "peaceniks" and their light-headed symbolism-without-substance of ringing bells, flying pigeons, floating candles, and sonorous chanting and I recall again that "Peace is not a cause - it is an effect."
In July, 1945, my fellow 8th RCT Marines [I was a BARman] and I returned to Saipan following the successful conclusion of the Battle of Okinawa. We were issued new equipment and replacements joined each outfit in preparation for our coming amphibious assault on the home islands of Japan.
B-29 bombing had leveled the major cities of Japan, including Kobe, Osaka, Nagoya, Yokohama, Yokosuka, and Tokyo.
We were informed we would land three Marine divisions and six Army divisions, perhaps abreast, with large reserves following us in. It was estimated that it would cost half a million casualties to subdue the Japanese homeland.
In August, the A-bomb was dropped on Hiroshima but the Japanese government refused to surrender. Three days later a second A-bomb was dropped on the city of Nagasaki. The Imperial Japanese government finally surrendered.
Following the 1941 sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, a Japanese admiral said, "I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant..." Indeed, they had. Not surprisingly, the atomic bomb was produced by a free people functioning in a free environment. Not surprisingly because the creative process is a natural human choice-making process and inventiveness occurs most readily where choice-making opportunities abound. America!
Tamper with a giant, indeed! Tyrants, beware: Free men are nature's pit bulls of Liberty! The Japanese learned the hard way what tyrants of any generation should know: Never start a war with a free people - you never know what they may invent!
As a newly assigned member of a U.S. Marine intelligence section, I had a unique opportunity to visit many major cities of Japan, including Tokyo and Hiroshima, within weeks of their destruction. For a full year I observed the beaches, weapons, and troops we would have assaulted had the A-bombs not been dropped. Yes, it would have been very destructive for all, but especially for the people of Japan.
When we landed in Japan, for what came to be the finest and most humane occupation of a defeated enemy in recorded history, it was with great appreciation, thanksgiving, and praise for the atomic bomb team, including the aircrew of the Enola Gay. A half million American homes had been spared the Gold Star flag, including, I'm sure, my own.
Whenever I hear the apologists expressing guilt and shame for A-bombing and ending the war Japan had started (they ignore the cause-effect relation between Pearl Harbor and Nagasaki), I have noted that neither the effete critics nor the puff-adder politicians are among us in the assault landing-craft or the stinking rice paddies of their suggested alternative, "conventional" warfare. Stammering reluctance is obvious and continuous, but they do love to pontificate about the Rights that others, and the Bomb, have bought and preserved for them.
The vanities of ignorance and camouflaged cowardice abound as license for the assertion of virtuous "rights" purchased by the blood of others - those others who have borne the burden and physical expense of Rights whining apologists so casually and self-righteously claim.
At best, these fakers manifest a profound and cryptic ignorance of causal relations, myopic perception, and dull I.Q. At worst, there is a word and description in The Constitution defining those who love the enemy more than they love their own countrymen and their own posterity. Every Yankee Doodle Dandy knows what that word is.
In 1945, America was the only nation in the world with the Bomb and it behaved responsibly and respectfully. It remained so until two among us betrayed it to the Kremlin. Still, this American weapon system has been the prime deterrent to earth's latest model world- tyranny: Seventy years of Soviet collectivist definition, coercion, and domination of individual human beings.
The message is this: Trust Freedom. Remember, tyrants never learn. The restriction of Freedom is the limitation of human choice, and choice is the fulcrum-point of the creative process in human affairs. As earth's choicemaker, it is our human identity on nature's beautiful blue planet and the natural premise of man's free institutions, environments, and respectful relations with one another. Made in the image of our Creator, free men choose, create, and progress - or die.
Free men should not fear the moon-god-crowd oppressor nor choose any of his ways. Recall with a confident Job and a victorious David, "Know ye not that you are in league with the stones of the field?"
Semper Fidelis
Jim Baxter
Sgt. USMC
WW II and Korean War
Monday, August 20, 2007
Pioneering female Marine dies
The Associated Press
Posted: Wednesday Aug 15, 2007 18:02:27 EDT
OWASSO, Okla. —
Maye Ryan, who was in the first class of the Marine Corps Women’s Reserve, has died. She was 97. Ryan, who was reportedly the oldest female Marine veteran in the nation, died Monday night at the Baptist Village, where she had lived for the last 14 years.
She joined the Marine Corps in 1943 and was assigned as a typist in Mojave, Calif., where she served for 32 months. She was discharged as a corporal.
In an April interview with the Tulsa World, Ryan said things didn’t go easily for those first few
women in the Marine Corps. She said her male counterparts often would look down at the female Marines and that many of the men had ugly names for them. Eventually, though, the women became well-accepted by the men, Ryan said.
She said she was proud of being able to take care of herself and did not apply for veteran’s benefits until 50 years after she had qualified for them. She applied for Medicaid 30 years after
she qualified for that program.She was born May 18, 1910, in Red Oak. Her father’s job as an oil pumper took the family from Red Oak to Avant in Osage County and then south to Wewoka in Seminole County, where she
finished high school. She attended college in Wilburton and then taught school.Throughout the Depression and Dust Bowl years, Ryan, an only child, used her teacher’s pay to
help support her parents.Our thoughts and prayers to this brave woman and for each and every one that
walks in her footsteps.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Vietnam Veteran turned chaplain helps Marines cope with combat
July 20, 2007; Submitted on: 07/20/2007 02:36:55 PM ; Story ID#: 2007720143655
By Cpl. Eric C. Schwartz, 2nd Marine Division
CAMP AL QA'IM, Iraq- Naval Commander Dennis Rocheford, a Catholic chaplain with II Marine Expeditionary Force, serves communion to 1stLt. Steven Rubeo, a supply officer with Headquarters and Support Company, Task Force 1st Battalion, 4th Marines, at the St. Michael's Chapel. Rocheford, a former Marine fought during the Vietnam Conflict, feels 'Marines are the finest people I know.'
CAMP AL QA’IM, Iraq (July 20, 2007) -- “Lord,” said Lance Cpl. Dennis Rocheford, a Marine with Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines, “I will not waste my life.” The bus hummed along the flight line transporting Rocheford, a Vietnam Veteran fresh from the war-torn jungles of the Quang Tri Province, to Okinawa, Japan en route to the United States.
Forty years later, after joining the Marines in 1966, now U.S. Navy Commander Dennis Rocheford, a Catholic Chaplain with II Marine Expeditionary Force, serves a higher power, giving spiritual guidance to deployed Marines with Regimental Combat Team 2.
“It was my war, my country, my generation, my time,” said the Worcester, Mass., native.
Fate saved Rocheford one night during a bridge ambush where a bullet entered and exited his torso missing all vital organs.
“The wound was scoured out with surgical soap, bandaged up, and we continued to march,” the chaplain said.
Rocheford earned his badge of courage that night. It wasn’t the last time his blood spilled for America. The young lance corporal later fought in Hue City during the Tet Offensive with Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines.
“We weren’t trained for house to house fighting; we were trained to fight in the jungle,” Rocheford said.
The urban battle went on for five weeks, but the Marines weren’t giving up.
“Dozens of guys were getting killed from my company,” said Rocheford.
The young Marine brushed against death with every building he cleared, every street he crossed. And once again he tempted fate, as he was struck in the face by shrapnel from a mortar round.
“I felt the blood dripping and then felt my face,” Rocheford said. “I started getting really scared.”
Rocheford kept fighting soon after finding the wound to be a superficial scar. After almost sacrificing his life again for his country, his company was once more thrust into battle. This time tasked with recapturing hill 881 on the Khe Sanh plateau from the North Vietnamese.
“Hill 881 was like reclaiming Mt. Suribachi and putting the flag up,” he said.
The battle scarred Marine became the A Company Commander’s radio operator. It became a routine job sitting at a field desk relaying messages back and forth daily with patrols.
“Two platoons left the hill one day to patrol,” said Rocheford. “I was the only radio operator there, and that’s when we got attacked.”
The company relied on Rocheford to keep communicating with naval and air support, artillery and his fellow Marines during the battle, which he successfully did.
“I was a lance corporal directing naval gunfire, telling Phantom Jets where to drop their napalm bombs and giving grid coordinates to the regimental artillery battery,” the chaplain said.
“Being alone in that bunker was pretty intense.”
Rocheford’s intensity in the Marine Corps died down immensely when he finished his contract at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He began attending confession.
“I confessed to killing in Vietnam,” the chaplain said. “The priest was gracious to me and told me it was not a sin if it was combat.”
The Marine’s contract was almost finished and instead of re-enlisting, he chose college.
“College was a balanced experience for me,” said the chaplain. “There were parties on Thursdays and Mass on Sundays.”
Rocheford quickly blended into college life but avoided discussions on the topic of the much-debated Vietnam Conflict.
“People didn’t really know I was a war veteran because it was so volatile at the time,” he said.
Studying and dating kept him focused on college, but his love of Christ pushed him to his destined livelihood.
“I loved Christ, but I didn’t think I could be a priest,” the chaplain said.
A priest explained to Rocheford that he still qualified for priesthood, so after college he attended seminary school.
“I was overwhelmed with the beauty of learning scripture,” he said. “It was like being a brand new Marine again.”
Rocheford would take the Eucharist, wafers and wine, extremely seriously, while many of the older students understood its importance, but weren’t as excited as he.
“The guys in the seminary would say, ‘Dennis, you don’t have to salute the Eucharist,’” the chaplain said.
Rocheford entered priesthood proclaiming a chaste life. He was placed in a missionary in Santa Domingo, Dominican Republic, and later moved back as a priest in his hometown.
Pope John Paul II asked men of the cloth to join the military because there were few Catholic chaplains. Father Rocheford joined the Navy Chaplain Corps because “the Marines don’t have one.”
As a chaplain, Rocheford has been stationed many places including Officer Candidate School, Parris Island Recruit Training Depot, and deployed with 3rd Battalion, 8th Marines and the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit.
“Everything has been a blessing,” Rocheford said. “It comes back to that commitment January 16, 1969, when I said I wouldn’t waste my life.”
Lance Cpl. Dennis Rocheford stepped off the bus wearing his jungle utilities. There wasn’t applause for his heroism or a thank you from anyone for proudly serving his country. The silence struck the Marine as odd, but he was alive and therefore happy. He had a bright future ahead of him and a promise to keep.
Source
By Cpl. Eric C. Schwartz, 2nd Marine Division
CAMP AL QA'IM, Iraq- Naval Commander Dennis Rocheford, a Catholic chaplain with II Marine Expeditionary Force, serves communion to 1stLt. Steven Rubeo, a supply officer with Headquarters and Support Company, Task Force 1st Battalion, 4th Marines, at the St. Michael's Chapel. Rocheford, a former Marine fought during the Vietnam Conflict, feels 'Marines are the finest people I know.'
CAMP AL QA’IM, Iraq (July 20, 2007) -- “Lord,” said Lance Cpl. Dennis Rocheford, a Marine with Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines, “I will not waste my life.” The bus hummed along the flight line transporting Rocheford, a Vietnam Veteran fresh from the war-torn jungles of the Quang Tri Province, to Okinawa, Japan en route to the United States.
Forty years later, after joining the Marines in 1966, now U.S. Navy Commander Dennis Rocheford, a Catholic Chaplain with II Marine Expeditionary Force, serves a higher power, giving spiritual guidance to deployed Marines with Regimental Combat Team 2.
“It was my war, my country, my generation, my time,” said the Worcester, Mass., native.
Fate saved Rocheford one night during a bridge ambush where a bullet entered and exited his torso missing all vital organs.
“The wound was scoured out with surgical soap, bandaged up, and we continued to march,” the chaplain said.
Rocheford earned his badge of courage that night. It wasn’t the last time his blood spilled for America. The young lance corporal later fought in Hue City during the Tet Offensive with Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marines.
“We weren’t trained for house to house fighting; we were trained to fight in the jungle,” Rocheford said.
The urban battle went on for five weeks, but the Marines weren’t giving up.
“Dozens of guys were getting killed from my company,” said Rocheford.
The young Marine brushed against death with every building he cleared, every street he crossed. And once again he tempted fate, as he was struck in the face by shrapnel from a mortar round.
“I felt the blood dripping and then felt my face,” Rocheford said. “I started getting really scared.”
Rocheford kept fighting soon after finding the wound to be a superficial scar. After almost sacrificing his life again for his country, his company was once more thrust into battle. This time tasked with recapturing hill 881 on the Khe Sanh plateau from the North Vietnamese.
“Hill 881 was like reclaiming Mt. Suribachi and putting the flag up,” he said.
The battle scarred Marine became the A Company Commander’s radio operator. It became a routine job sitting at a field desk relaying messages back and forth daily with patrols.
“Two platoons left the hill one day to patrol,” said Rocheford. “I was the only radio operator there, and that’s when we got attacked.”
The company relied on Rocheford to keep communicating with naval and air support, artillery and his fellow Marines during the battle, which he successfully did.
“I was a lance corporal directing naval gunfire, telling Phantom Jets where to drop their napalm bombs and giving grid coordinates to the regimental artillery battery,” the chaplain said.
“Being alone in that bunker was pretty intense.”
Rocheford’s intensity in the Marine Corps died down immensely when he finished his contract at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He began attending confession.
“I confessed to killing in Vietnam,” the chaplain said. “The priest was gracious to me and told me it was not a sin if it was combat.”
The Marine’s contract was almost finished and instead of re-enlisting, he chose college.
“College was a balanced experience for me,” said the chaplain. “There were parties on Thursdays and Mass on Sundays.”
Rocheford quickly blended into college life but avoided discussions on the topic of the much-debated Vietnam Conflict.
“People didn’t really know I was a war veteran because it was so volatile at the time,” he said.
Studying and dating kept him focused on college, but his love of Christ pushed him to his destined livelihood.
“I loved Christ, but I didn’t think I could be a priest,” the chaplain said.
A priest explained to Rocheford that he still qualified for priesthood, so after college he attended seminary school.
“I was overwhelmed with the beauty of learning scripture,” he said. “It was like being a brand new Marine again.”
Rocheford would take the Eucharist, wafers and wine, extremely seriously, while many of the older students understood its importance, but weren’t as excited as he.
“The guys in the seminary would say, ‘Dennis, you don’t have to salute the Eucharist,’” the chaplain said.
Rocheford entered priesthood proclaiming a chaste life. He was placed in a missionary in Santa Domingo, Dominican Republic, and later moved back as a priest in his hometown.
Pope John Paul II asked men of the cloth to join the military because there were few Catholic chaplains. Father Rocheford joined the Navy Chaplain Corps because “the Marines don’t have one.”
As a chaplain, Rocheford has been stationed many places including Officer Candidate School, Parris Island Recruit Training Depot, and deployed with 3rd Battalion, 8th Marines and the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit.
“Everything has been a blessing,” Rocheford said. “It comes back to that commitment January 16, 1969, when I said I wouldn’t waste my life.”
Lance Cpl. Dennis Rocheford stepped off the bus wearing his jungle utilities. There wasn’t applause for his heroism or a thank you from anyone for proudly serving his country. The silence struck the Marine as odd, but he was alive and therefore happy. He had a bright future ahead of him and a promise to keep.
Source
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Reporting From the Front
Many of you may have seen this poem circulating in email. In the email I got it was called "Monsters and the Weak". It's a wonderful poem and I really wanted to post it here, but I wanted to be sure that the author was credited. So, I did a little digging and found that the author is Michael Marks, found his email address and asked him for permission to post his poem here. He has so graciously allowed us to do so.
Here's a snippet from the email he sent me:
Please extend to your readers my warmest thoughts and wishes that their Marines come home swiftly and safely and again, my thanks for the sacrifices made by all to keep our streets and homes secure. From the son of a Marine himself -- Semper Fi.
Best always,
Michael
Reporting From The Front
The sun beat like a hammer, not a cloud was in the sky.
The mid-day air ran thick with dust; my throat was parched and dry.
With microphone clutched tight in hand and cameraman in tow,
I ducked beneath a fallen roof, surprised to hear "stay low."
My eyes blinked several times before in shadow I could see,
the figure stretched across the rubble, steps away from me.
He wore a cloak of burlap strips, all shades of grey and brown,
that hung in tatters till he seemed to melt into the ground.
He never turned his head or took his eye from off the scope,
but pointed through the broken wall and down the rocky slope.
"About eight hundred yards," he said, his whispered words concise,
"beneath the baggy jacket he is wearing a device."
A chill ran up my spine despite the swelter of the heat,
"You think he's gonna set it off along the crowded street?"
The sniper gave a weary sigh and said "I wouldn't doubt it,"
"unless there's something this old gun and I can do about it."
A thunderclap, a tongue of flame, the still abruptly shattered;
while citizens that walked the street were just as quickly scattered.
Till only one remained, a body crumpled on the ground,
The threat to oh so many ended by a single round.
And yet the sniper had no cheer, no hint of any gloat,
instead he pulled a logbook out and quietly he wrote.
"Hey, I could put you on TV; that shot was quite a story!"
But he surprised me once again -- "I got no wish for glory."
"Are you for real?" I asked in awe, "You don't want fame or credit?"
He looked at me with saddened eyes and said "you just don't get it."
"You see that shot-up length of wall, the one without a door?
before a mortar hit, it used to be a grocery store."
"But don't go thinking that to bomb a store is all that cruel,
the rubble just across the street -- it used to be a school.
The little kids played soccer in the field out by the road,"
His head hung low, "They never thought a car would just explode."
"As bad as all this is though, it could be a whole lot worse,"
He swallowed hard; the words came from his mouth just like a curse.
"Today the fight's on foreign land, on streets that aren't my own,"
"I'm here today 'cause if I fail, the next fight's back at home."
"And I won't let my Safeway burn, my neighbors dead inside,
don't wanna get a call from school that says my daughter died;
I pray that not a one of them will know the things I see,
nor have the work of terrorists etched in their memory."
"So you can keep your trophies and your fleeting bit of fame,
I don't care if I make the news, or if they speak my name."
He glanced toward the camera and his brow began to knot,
"If you're looking for a story, why not give this one a shot."
"Just tell the truth of what you see, without the slant or spin;
that most of us are OK and we're coming home again.
And why not tell our folks back home about the good we've done,
how when they see Americans, the kids come at a run."
You tell 'em what it means to folks here just to speak their mind,
without the fear that tyranny is just a step behind;
Describe the desert miles they walk in their first chance to vote,
or ask a soldier if he's proud, I'm sure you'll get a quote."
He turned and slid the rifle in a drag bag thickly padded,
then looked again with eyes of steel as quietly he added;
"And maybe just remind the few, if ill of us they speak,
that we are all that stands between the monsters and the weak."
©Copyright January 25, 2006 by Michael Marks
Here's a snippet from the email he sent me:
Please extend to your readers my warmest thoughts and wishes that their Marines come home swiftly and safely and again, my thanks for the sacrifices made by all to keep our streets and homes secure. From the son of a Marine himself -- Semper Fi.
Best always,
Michael
Reporting From The Front
The sun beat like a hammer, not a cloud was in the sky.
The mid-day air ran thick with dust; my throat was parched and dry.
With microphone clutched tight in hand and cameraman in tow,
I ducked beneath a fallen roof, surprised to hear "stay low."
My eyes blinked several times before in shadow I could see,
the figure stretched across the rubble, steps away from me.
He wore a cloak of burlap strips, all shades of grey and brown,
that hung in tatters till he seemed to melt into the ground.
He never turned his head or took his eye from off the scope,
but pointed through the broken wall and down the rocky slope.
"About eight hundred yards," he said, his whispered words concise,
"beneath the baggy jacket he is wearing a device."
A chill ran up my spine despite the swelter of the heat,
"You think he's gonna set it off along the crowded street?"
The sniper gave a weary sigh and said "I wouldn't doubt it,"
"unless there's something this old gun and I can do about it."
A thunderclap, a tongue of flame, the still abruptly shattered;
while citizens that walked the street were just as quickly scattered.
Till only one remained, a body crumpled on the ground,
The threat to oh so many ended by a single round.
And yet the sniper had no cheer, no hint of any gloat,
instead he pulled a logbook out and quietly he wrote.
"Hey, I could put you on TV; that shot was quite a story!"
But he surprised me once again -- "I got no wish for glory."
"Are you for real?" I asked in awe, "You don't want fame or credit?"
He looked at me with saddened eyes and said "you just don't get it."
"You see that shot-up length of wall, the one without a door?
before a mortar hit, it used to be a grocery store."
"But don't go thinking that to bomb a store is all that cruel,
the rubble just across the street -- it used to be a school.
The little kids played soccer in the field out by the road,"
His head hung low, "They never thought a car would just explode."
"As bad as all this is though, it could be a whole lot worse,"
He swallowed hard; the words came from his mouth just like a curse.
"Today the fight's on foreign land, on streets that aren't my own,"
"I'm here today 'cause if I fail, the next fight's back at home."
"And I won't let my Safeway burn, my neighbors dead inside,
don't wanna get a call from school that says my daughter died;
I pray that not a one of them will know the things I see,
nor have the work of terrorists etched in their memory."
"So you can keep your trophies and your fleeting bit of fame,
I don't care if I make the news, or if they speak my name."
He glanced toward the camera and his brow began to knot,
"If you're looking for a story, why not give this one a shot."
"Just tell the truth of what you see, without the slant or spin;
that most of us are OK and we're coming home again.
And why not tell our folks back home about the good we've done,
how when they see Americans, the kids come at a run."
You tell 'em what it means to folks here just to speak their mind,
without the fear that tyranny is just a step behind;
Describe the desert miles they walk in their first chance to vote,
or ask a soldier if he's proud, I'm sure you'll get a quote."
He turned and slid the rifle in a drag bag thickly padded,
then looked again with eyes of steel as quietly he added;
"And maybe just remind the few, if ill of us they speak,
that we are all that stands between the monsters and the weak."
©Copyright January 25, 2006 by Michael Marks
Friday, December 29, 2006
Lubbock Soldier to be portrayed on History Channel
Roy Velez, is honored and excited to see the History Channel special about his son Friday. The Velez family lost their son Freddy in 2004 when he was killed by enemy fire in Fallujah. Read the rest here. The special will be on today at noon and at 6:00pm tonight.
Blondiebee and I had the privilege to meet this precious family when they lost their second son Andrew. They are an inspiration to us. Their faith is still so strong even after losing two of their sons. We went to take food and just hoped we might be of some comfort to them. We were so blessed by that meeting and I think received more from the family than we were able to give. Roy, the father, has been nominated for Texan of the year. They will continue to be in our thoughts and prayers.
Blondiebee and I had the privilege to meet this precious family when they lost their second son Andrew. They are an inspiration to us. Their faith is still so strong even after losing two of their sons. We went to take food and just hoped we might be of some comfort to them. We were so blessed by that meeting and I think received more from the family than we were able to give. Roy, the father, has been nominated for Texan of the year. They will continue to be in our thoughts and prayers.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
DECK of CARDS
It was quiet that day, the guns and the mortars, and land mines for some reason hadn't been heard.
The young soldier knew it was Sunday, the holiest day of the week.
As he was sitting there, he got out an old deck of cards and laid them out across his bunk.
Just then a sergeant came in and said, "Why aren't you with the rest of the platoon?"
The soldier replied, "I thought I would stay behind and spend some time with the Lord."
The sergeant said, "Looks to me like you're going to play cards."
The soldier said, "No, sir. You see, since we are not allowed to have Bibles or other spiritual books in this country, I've decided to talk to the Lord by studying this deck of cards."
The sergeant asked in disbelief, "How will you do that?"
“You see the Ace, Sergeant? It reminds me that there is only one God.
~ The Two represents the two parts of the Bible, Old and New Testaments.
~ The Three represents the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost.
~ The Four stands for the Four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
~ The Five is for the five virgins. There were ten, but only five of them were glorified.
~ The Six is for the six days it took God to create the Heavens and Earth.
~ The Seven is for the day God rested after making His Creation.
~ The Eight is for the family of Noah and his wife, their three sons and their wives -- the eight people God spared from the flood that destroyed the Earth.
~ The Nine is for the lepers that Jesus cleansed of leprosy. He cleansed ten, but nine never thanked Him.
~ The Ten represents the Ten Commandments that God handed down to Moses on tablets made of stone.
~ The Jack is a reminder of Satan, one of God's first angels, but he got kicked out of heaven for his sly and wicked ways and is now the joker of eternal hell.
~ The Queen stands for the Virgin Mary.
~ The King stands for Jesus, for he is the King of all kings."
"When I count the dots on all the cards, I come up with 365 total, one for every day of the year."
"There are a total of 52 cards in a deck; each is a week - 52 weeks in a year."
"The four suits represent the four seasons: Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter."
"Each suit has thirteen cards -- there are exactly thirteen weeks in a quarter."
"So when I want to talk to God and thank Him, I just pull out this old deck of cards and they remind me of all that I have to be thankful for."
The sergeant just stood there. After a minute, with tears in his eyes and pain in his heart, he said, "Soldier, can I borrow that deck of cards?"
The young soldier knew it was Sunday, the holiest day of the week.
As he was sitting there, he got out an old deck of cards and laid them out across his bunk.
Just then a sergeant came in and said, "Why aren't you with the rest of the platoon?"
The soldier replied, "I thought I would stay behind and spend some time with the Lord."
The sergeant said, "Looks to me like you're going to play cards."
The soldier said, "No, sir. You see, since we are not allowed to have Bibles or other spiritual books in this country, I've decided to talk to the Lord by studying this deck of cards."
The sergeant asked in disbelief, "How will you do that?"
“You see the Ace, Sergeant? It reminds me that there is only one God.
~ The Two represents the two parts of the Bible, Old and New Testaments.
~ The Three represents the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost.
~ The Four stands for the Four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
~ The Five is for the five virgins. There were ten, but only five of them were glorified.
~ The Six is for the six days it took God to create the Heavens and Earth.
~ The Seven is for the day God rested after making His Creation.
~ The Eight is for the family of Noah and his wife, their three sons and their wives -- the eight people God spared from the flood that destroyed the Earth.
~ The Nine is for the lepers that Jesus cleansed of leprosy. He cleansed ten, but nine never thanked Him.
~ The Ten represents the Ten Commandments that God handed down to Moses on tablets made of stone.
~ The Jack is a reminder of Satan, one of God's first angels, but he got kicked out of heaven for his sly and wicked ways and is now the joker of eternal hell.
~ The Queen stands for the Virgin Mary.
~ The King stands for Jesus, for he is the King of all kings."
"When I count the dots on all the cards, I come up with 365 total, one for every day of the year."
"There are a total of 52 cards in a deck; each is a week - 52 weeks in a year."
"The four suits represent the four seasons: Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter."
"Each suit has thirteen cards -- there are exactly thirteen weeks in a quarter."
"So when I want to talk to God and thank Him, I just pull out this old deck of cards and they remind me of all that I have to be thankful for."
The sergeant just stood there. After a minute, with tears in his eyes and pain in his heart, he said, "Soldier, can I borrow that deck of cards?"
**Please let this be a reminder and take time to pray each day for all of our soldiers who are being sent away, putting their lives on the line fighting. When you read this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our servicemen and women all around the world.
Of all the gifts you could give a Soldier, prayer is the very best one.
~ Prayer for the Military ~
Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands.
Protect them.
Bless them and their families.
I ask this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Amen.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Psalm 91
Praying the Prayers of Psalm 91 over our military today.
TJ, my stepson has been on my mind all day today, as have many others who are leaving 3/7 this time of the year. TJ has reupped and transfered to Bridgeport, California. My thoughts are a little on the sad side as this transition in his life occurs, I feel like I am loosing 3/7 family. All of the young men of 3/7 have become very dear to my heart. They will soon be gone again in a few months. This Prayer straight from the scripture is for those who are currently serving and I feel it will pave the way for 3/7 in their future.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."
Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
If you make the Most High your dwelling—
even the LORD, who is my refuge—
then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
"Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I Am A Blue Star Mother
I am a Blue Star Mother.
I am the Mother of a United States Marine.
He gave me my title
I will give him a heart full of wonder at this accomplishment
And a voice that praises his desire to serve
I will place my faith in his military training
And in God's protection.
I will give him the prayers that will follow him
Where I cannot.
I will be strong when I want to cry
And brave when I want to cower.
He will know I am behind him every step of the way.
Because I bear the title of
Mother of a United States Marine!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Give Thanks
"O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever."
-Psalm 107:1 (KJV)
We wish you all a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving tomorrow. We have so much in our country and in our city to be thankful for.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Psalm 91
This is one of my favorite Psalms. It is one that I pray often for my own sons as well as all of our military. Two of my favorite verses in this Psalm are verse 2 "I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.'", and verse 4 "He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler." I can just picture the wings of God hovering over our loved ones and gathering them to Him. My Bible opens itself to this page! :) Please remember our military in your prayers, especially those unable to be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Christmas Poem
This is a wonderful poem from our Lubbock Marine Parents president, Becky.
T’was the month before Christmas, when all through the country
The stockings were filled by people who care
Knowing our troops would still be there
The Marines were nestled all snug on the base
Dreaming of home and snowflakes
When at the gate there arose such a clatter.
They all sprang up to see what was the matter.
The mail trucks arrived with gun protection on the side.
The moon shone on the opening doors
And all could see packages galore.
The Corporal so lively and quick,
Tossed packages out with a twist.
The quiet of night had eyes filled with mist.
For nothing had stopped Christmas joy from arriving
Love is what it all about and of that there is no doubt.
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