Here is one story of many that people normally don’t hear, and one
that everyone does.
This is just one story most don’t hear:
A young Marine and his cover man cautiously enter a room just
recently filled with insurgents armed with Ak-47’s and RPG’s.
There are three dead, another wailing in pain. The insurgent can
be heard saying, “Mister, mister! Diktoor, diktoor(doctor)!” He
is badly wounded, lying in a pool of his own blood. The Marine
and his cover man slowly walk toward the injured man, scanning to
make sure no enemies come from behind. In a split second, the
pressure in the room greatly exceeds that of the outside, and the
concussion seems to be felt before the blast is heard. Marines
outside rush to the room, and look in horror as the dust
gradually settles. The result is a room filled with the barely
recognizable remains of the deceased, caused by an insurgent
setting off several pounds of explosives.
The Marines’ remains are gathered by teary eyed comrades,
brothers in arms, and shipped home in a box. The families can
only mourn over a casket and a picture of their loved one, a life
cut short by someone who hid behind a white flag. But no one
hears these stories, except those who have lived to carry remains
of a friend, and the families who loved the dead. No one hears
this, so no one cares.
This is the story everyone hears:
A young Marine and his fire team cautiously enter a room just
recently filled with insurgents armed with AK-47’s and RPG’s.
There are three dead, another wailing in pain. The insurgent can
be heard saying, “Mister,mister! Diktoor, diktoor(doctor)!” He is badly wounded.
Suddenly, he pulls from under his bloody clothes a grenade, without the
pin. The explosion rocks the room, killing one Marine, wounding
the others. The young Marine catches shrapnel in the face.
The next day, same Marine, same type of situation, a different story.
The young Marine and his cover man enter a room with two wounded
insurgents. One lies on the floor in puddle of blood, another
against the wall. A reporter and his camera survey the wreckage
inside, and in the background can be heard the voice of a Marine,
“He’s moving, he’s moving!” The pop of a rifle is heard, and the
insurgent against the wall is now dead.
Minutes, hours later, the scene is aired on national television,
and the Marine is being held for committing a war crime. Unlawful
killing.
And now, another Marine has the possibility of being burned at
the stake for protecting the life of his brethren. His family now
wrings their hands in grief, tears streaming down their face.
Brother, should I have been in your boots, I too would have done
the same.
For those of you who don’t know, we Marines, Band of Brothers,
Jarheads, Leathernecks, etc., do not fight because we think it is
right, or think it is wrong. We are here for the man to our left,
and the man to our right. We choose to give our lives so that the
man or woman next to us can go home and see their husbands,
wives, children, friends and families.
For those of you who sit on your couches in front of your
television, and choose to condemn this man’s actions, I have but
one thing to say to you. Get out of your recliner, lace up my
boots, pick up a rifle, leave your family behind and join me. See
what I’ve seen, walk where I have walked. To those of you who
support us, my sincerest gratitude. You keep us alive.
I am a Marine currently doing his second tour in Iraq . These are
my opinions and mine alone. They do not represent those of the
Marine Corps or of the US military, or any other.
Sincerely,
LCPL Schmidt
USMC
