Finding Perspective
A student at University of California–Santa Barbara enlists in the Marines. Suddenly, college doesn’t seem so hard.
By Mario Geary
November 5, 2009
The author in Iraq. (The Bottom Line)
On May 27, 2009, Mobile Assault Platoon 4 was living in the sands about 10 miles south of Fallujah, Iraq, in support of Operation Polaris. Thirteen Marines and one Navy Corpsman were relaxing and quietly talking in the shade next to four up-armored vehicles. Suddenly, three 105mm rockets screamed overhead and burrowed, unexploded, into the soft sand about 50 meters behind. As I took cover, I remembered a conversation I had had with my mom on the phone two weeks earlier. I had reassured her that I’m probably safer turning 21 in Iraq than in Isla Vista, a community in Santa Barbara, Calif.
In September 2006, I was a resident of Camuesa House in Manzanita Village at University of California–Santa Barbara. I had a view of the ocean, a car, and my parents would pay the bills for one year. However, as so many well-off kids do, I still complained about everything. Ugh, 10 a.m. classes are too early. OMG the dining commons are so far away. I rarely went to a 50 minutes lecture class because it was just too long. Feeling that my life would just fall into place, a lack of motivation had overrun me. Grow up, go to and graduate from college, get a job, get married, and die. Despite being given great advantages in life, there was something missing: perspective.
On Veterans Day in 2006, USA Today featured a huge picture on the front page of a Marine being carried out of an Iraqi house, soaked in blood and with a pistol gripped in his hand. It was Sgt. Maj. Bradley Kasal of the United States Marine Corps, who received the Navy Cross (the second highest military medal) for heroism while fighting insurgents in Fallujah. He had been shot seven times in close-quarter combat. Kasal was just happy to be alive. That’s the best perspective one can have on life.
After reading the Kasal story, I went on a quest to get some perspective of my own. I called the Marine Corp recruiting office in Santa Barbara and told them I wanted to be a Marine Infantryman. A few days after school ended in June 2007, I was in an entirely new world: the infamous Marine Corp boot camp in San Diego, where boys are turned in killing machines. Thirteen weeks of early wake-ups, buzz cuts, and constant yelling gave me my first taste of a difficult life. Most kids my age spent the summer at the beach, with jobs and getting ready for the next year of school. I had become a Marine with orders for war.
Between the time that I had joined the Marines and landed in Iraq, the situation had changed. Iraq had become a somewhat calm combat zone where I could be put up on murder charges for killing the wrong person. The actions of the three men in my vehicle could also land me in prison. It seemed staying out of trouble was more important than killing the enemy. My training taught me to never hesitate, to never think twice, but to react swiftly with concentrated devastation. In boot camp, when you hesitate during an obstacle, or at the door of the gas chamber, as I did, the Drill Instructors scream “Hesitate and PEOPLE DIE!” However, this war game was much more complicated.
Most Marines want a “kill” while they’re deployed in a combat zone. For others, the priority is simply making it home. I just wanted my experience to make Isla Vista and college seem easy. And in that respect, it was an astounding success. In Iraq in 2009, there was no more high-intensity combat where bombs were going off everywhere and bullets were flying, but just combating sand storms and 120 degree heat with 70 pounds of bulky gear on makes anything seem easy. After several months of rockets, snipers, and improvised explosive devices (IEDs), I was back at Camp Pendleton, CA. My company came home in one piece, and it was as if we never left.
After returning to Isla Vista this fall for a couple weeks of drinking and partying, I wanted to go back. War produces unrivaled camaraderie among a platoon of men (and women). Those at war together know more about each other than couples who have been married for 50 years. Nobody in the world would go more out of their way to help another in need. There’s something about reality that gets lost in Isla Vista. Most people act in an artificial, self-centered way and find that doing something for the benefit of another is preposterous. I guess it’s typical behavior when you have no perspective on life.
This article was originally published by University of California–Santa Barbara’s The Bottom Line, part of the Campus Progress Journalism Network.
Social Bookmarking
--------
Comments
!
Respect.
— Cyrus - Nov 5, 01:37 PM - #