Taking down the flag, son home

Taking down the flag, son home

Today I took down the U.S. flag that has been flying in front of my home for the past seven months. I put it out the day my son, Buddy, left for Iraq. Yesterday, he came home. He is serving in the Marine Corp, stationed in Twenty Nine Palms. I put the flag out the day I put him on the bus and saw him off for his tour in the big sand box as he calls Iraq.

For me this whole ride has been quite an emotional roller coaster. First off, our family was taken aback when Buddy had announced that he had joined the Marines. I have never been in the service. My brother and I we’re both lucky enough to have missed the Vietnam War. My brother because he got a high draft number and me because the draft stopped before I hit eighteen.

My family does have a history of service. Both my father and grandfather and his brother were in WW2 together. However, military service was not something I had ever discussed with Buddy.

With the war in Iraq waging full tilt the thought of my boy getting caught up in that quagmire was almost too much for me bear. I had pretty some pretty rotten things to say to the recruiter, in language that I usually reserve for after hitting my thumb with a hammer, when I sought him out. Some of it I regret some I do not. He’s a big Marine; I figure he can take it. Besides he was taking my son away from me, who else I was going to yell at?

Through all of my ranting and raving and my wife’s tears and pleating, Buddy held fast to his convictions to join up. Friends and co-workers would ask “Aren’t you proud of him for joining up”. I would always answer that I have mixed emotions. I’m racked with fear that he’ll coming in to harms way in war that I don’t believe serves our country. I didn’t believe he had to kind of temperament that would serve him in the Marine Corp. He was always an arty, bookies kind of a kid. Not a warrior. (I suggested Air Force or Navy to him as an alternative but he said he “wanted to be to the best of the best”. Which I believe was implanted in his head by the recruiter and written by an ad agency on Madison Ave.) I was proud that he had the courage to stand up for his convictions and do what he felt was right for him.

Throughout all of his training and service our prayer had always been that he would not have to go to Iraq. We were comforted by the job training he received. He was trained as a surveyor. We felt this job category would surely keep him out of harms way and out of Iraq. How naïve we were. Imagine what a blow it was to fine out he would be shipping out. Tears flowed but again we were comforted by his job category and we had assurances from him that he would never have to leave base and go “out in country”. We were also reassured when we found out what base he was stationed on. It was a very safe base that had not been attacked in over two years.

One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was go see him off. Knowing that I was sending my son, who I loved and protected since the day he was born, in to harm’s way made me want to crazy things. I wanted to bundle him up and cart him off to Mexico or Canada and keep him under lock and key. My over protective parental nature was in full alert. I asked him why he should do this. He replied “to earn my pay”. It was that simple for him. He had a job to do and he was going to it. I think that’s when I realized it was over for me. I’d done my job. My boy was raised and he was man going off to war to do his job. I was proud yet still my fears were still not abated. I hugged him tighter than I had in a long time, told him I loved him and sent him off to get on the bus. When he was almost on the bus I yelled out “See ya Bud”. He yelled back ‘Love ya dad”. My eyes teared up. It was then that I noticed the people next to me. They were a young family hugging. The babies were young, an infant and a toddler. Heck, the parents were young and just kids as far as I was concerned. They were all hugging tight and kisses were in abundance. There were tears and more hugging. The father had to get on the bus and go do his job and earn his pay. The mom had to raise the kids without her husband, the kids be growing up without a dad for next seven months. The father did want to let go of his babies, the sergeant yelled out for him to get on the bus. More hugging and tears. The wife locked on to him in to a bear hug crying. Sergeant yells again, this time with profanities. That Marine, that dad, that husband gave one more kiss and hug to each child and his wife then ran to the bus. He was the last one on. I think of that family often and pray for them daily. Their sacrifice is great and their rewards too little.

We sent letters and packages, so did our family and friends. We got phone calls occasionally and e-mails through Myspace. What an amazing thing Myspace is, we were able to check-in and see if Buddy had logged on that day. It was very reassuring to see that he logged on and to know at least for that day he was OK. Suddenly the e-mails stopped, he hadn’t logged in and no phone calls. For a month we waited without any word. We were going out of our minds with worry and fear. Worry was my constant companion. Finally we got a phone call. Joy of joys, he was ok. He had been ‘out in country’ working to bring water to a village. I think there was more involved but I wasn’t asking. I was glad he was back in touch.

Finally, Bud sent word he would be coming home around the end of October. We waited, happy that he would soon be home safe and sound. I got the call on Tuesday at 11:30AM that he was at March AFB and headed to Twenty Nine Palms. I jumped in the car and drove out to the desert to meet the bus. Hundreds of people were waiting on the buses when I got there. Many had come from all over the U.S. to meet their Marines. I felt lucky to be able to just drive a couple hours to be at the home coming. Everyone broke into cheers and applause when the bus came in to view. The buses parked, the door flew open and everyone rushed toward them. Out piled the Marines but damn they looked exactly alike in the camouflaged uniforms they all wear. You really just had to wait until your Marine found you. Mine finally did. I grabbed him and hugged him as hard as I could. I could not stop the tears from coming. All the worry and fears left me for at that moment; my boy was once again safe in my arms.

I’m hoping I don’t have to put the flag out for such a long time ever again.

My family would like to thank all our friends, neighbors, community and church members who prayed, inquired about and held in their thoughts our son. We ask you to continue your vigil for all who continue to serve.

Gary De Vine

Newport Beach, Ca.