Proud to Love a Marine

The firs time I remember seeing a Marine up close was when I was going to get my childhood sweat heart and boyfriend from boot-camp, with his family. He was 19 and I was 20. I remember catching my breath in awe the first time he stood before me, lined up with hundreds of other young men singing the Marine Corps Hymn in their Charlie Uniforms.  He stood taller than I had ever seen him and in that moment I was sure he would never be more handsome. The pride radiated from him and in return I was proud of him. I was more proud than I had ever been of anyone, even still today. It was as though 13 weeks of boot-camp changed the boy I loved into a man. It was an amazing experience to see them all, these young men and women who  volunteered to serve their country.  

My ex-husband entered the Marine Corps during peaceful times, circa 1998. He served for 5 years and never so much as left the west coast of the United States. We got lucky, by the time 9/11 came around he was so close to getting out that he was never deployed to a war zone. I never had to experience what so many Marine families do as their loved ones board buses and planes or ships taking them to the other side of the world to fight a war.

Since the war began there have been more than 4600 casualties during Operation Iraqi Freedom and another 1454 in Afghanistan in the last 8 years. There have been men/women as young as 18, kids really, killed during this time. Young men and women who left behind moms and dads, girlfriends or boyfriends they promised to marry and an array of family. Soldiers who have been in the service to our country for 10, 15, 20 years have died, leaving behind wives, husbands, kids and family who loved them. It’s tragic and whether you support the war effort or not the sheer number of men and women lost must effect you in some way. And yet they go, they go for their families and for their country. They are all brave and stronger than I know I would be.

In the last eight years I have lived in San Diego and have known and seen many soldiers, but mostly Marines who have gone to war and come back. Some of them severely affected by what they saw and what they did while serving their country. But today, as my brother leaves for Afghanistan I can not help but be proud. He is my brother not by blood, but by choice, because he is a good man. He is kind and loving and it is in his nature to care for everyone he considers family. He is the kind of person you want standing next to you on the battlefield. He is the Marine who volunteers to go ahead and set up in Afghanistan and who would extend his time to stay with his men, because he cares that much. He is the Marine you want looking out for your son, who is in a war zone for the first time. He is a protector. So, he will leave his wife and kids here with family to stand up for the freedoms we all cherish and protect us all, simply because it is his duty.

My brother was out of the Marines for a few years and realized that he missed the Corps. He is an excellent man like so many others I have known, who call themselves Marines. I am proud of him, proud of my sister for being strong and knowing that for the next 9 months her husband is doing what he must and what the United States has asked of him, to protect and serve and keep us all safe! I am proud to love a Marine, I am proud of you Kirk.