Letter From a Fallujah Marine:

[darrels joy]

Letter From a Fallujah Marine:

This is one story of many that people normally don't hear, and one that everyone does. This is one 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.

[DMZ-LT]

Thank you for this Joy. Salute to all our troops

[chucktoo1926]

darrel; All I can say is, bless that soldier over there that has a guy like you next to him. I was in the air corps in WWII. Never saw combat, and thank God I didn't. I have tremendous respect
for all who did, and for all who do now. We all should walk in your shoes once in a while
Semper Fi
chucktoo1926

[Robert Ryan]

If I were a marine I would want one like you beside me. This incident remeinds of one I faced in Saigon, Vietnam while I was with the MP's my third tour. There were some VC riding around on motorcycles, tossing grenades in the back of MP Jeeps when they would pass them. My paartner and I were patrolling our beat area. I was sitting in the passengerside of the jeep when I looked into the sideview mirror. There were two Vietnamese men on a Honda I saw the man behind the driver reach into his shirt, as his hand came out I could see the chicom grenade. It seemed like forever, but I withdrew my 45 from my holster, I fired two rounds at the men, the first hit the driver in the chest and the second round hit the other man in face, the bike skidded, both fell off it, the grenad rolled into the street, while this was happening my partner was stopping the jeep, we both got out, I still had my 45 at the ready, when my partner yelled, he's got the frag, he's got the frag, I turned and saw a person holding the frag, before I knew what happened I had fired again, I hit the person who was a nine year old kid, killing him. The confusion, and screaming by the locals that was going on was crazy. I ran and picked up the grenade. My partner was calling our Desk SGt and letting him know what had happended. In a matter of 30 seconds or less I had killed 3 people. That's how fast it goes in combat.

[Jerry D]

Thank you for this article Joy