This is a poem being sent from a Marine. For those who read it, his letter is at
the bottom of this page to his dad.
It makes you truly be thankful for
all of our troops.
THE MARINE
We all came together, Both young and old.
To fight for our freedom, To stand and be bold.
In the midst of all evil, We stand our ground,
And we protect our country,From all terror around.
Peace and not war, Is what some people say.
But I'll give my life, So you can live the American way.
I give you the right To talk of your peace,
To stand in your groups, And protest in our streets.
But still I fight on. I don't bitch, I don't whine.
I'm just one of the men Who is doing your time.
I'm harder than nails, Stronger than any machine,
I'm the immortal soldier, I'm a U.S. MARINE!
So stand in my shoes, And leave from your home.
Fight for the people who hate you, With the protests they've shown.
Fight for the stranger, Fight for the young,
So they all may have, The great freedom you've won.
Fight for the sick, Fight for the poor.
Fight for the cripple, Who lives next door.
But when your time comes, Do what I've done.
For if you stand up for freedom You'll stand when the fight's done.
~Corporal Aaron M. Gilbert~
UNITED STATES MARINE~
~ 'USS SAIPAN, PERSIAN GULF~
HEY DAD, DOWN HERE. Do me a favor and label this "THE MARINE" and send it to
everybody on your distribution list. Even leave this paragraph in it.
I want this rolling all over the U.S. I want every home reading it. Every eye to
see it. And every heart to feel it. So can you please send this out for me? I
would but I am sorta on the USS SAIPAN and my e-mail time isn't that long.
You know what Dad, I wondered what it would be like to truly understand what JFK
said in his inaugural speech, "When the time comes to lay down my life for
my country, I do not cower from this responsibility, I welcome it." Well, now I
know. And I do, Dad, I welcome the opportunity to do what I do. Even
though I have left behind a beautiful wife, and I will miss the birth of our
first born child, I would do it 70 times over to fight for the place that God
has made for my home.
I love you all and ! I miss you very much. I wish I could be there when my wife
has our child, but tell her that I love her, and Lord willing, I will be
coming home soon.
~SEMPER, FI.~ ~AARON~
*Please KEEP AARON AND HIS WIFE AND HIS UNBORN
CHILD IN YOUR PRAYERS! AND PLEASE, PASS IT ON!!
Here is Brad on R and R this week.
Jean took this picture of him at the airport on his way to Anita.
Brad, You are getting it done!
Enjoy your well deserved break!
Here was Brad in Iraq.
Subject: Iraq update
>>Date: Mon, 13 Sep 2004 11:01:05 -0700 (PDT)
>>
>> This email is from a Navy psychiatrist and former
>>flight surgeon who is currently deployed. She has
>>been sending periodic updates that have been very
>>well-written and poignant. She was the doc who stayed
>>with PFC Phelps (recommended for the Medal of Honor
>>for jumping on the grenade) before he was shipped to
>>Germany and then the US where he died in route.
>>
>>Greetings all from hot, hot, hot Iraq,
>>We are short indeed...although not quite as short as
>>we had originally thought...our flight home has been
>>posted and is showing up 3 days later than planned.
>>The good news is that we leave in the middle of the
>>night and arrive (all admin complete, including
>>turning our weapons into the armory) ! around
>>dinnertime at Pendleton on the same day we leave (11
>>hrs time difference). The other good news is it
>>appears we've got commercial contract air carriers
>>taking us home...so we don't have to worry about
>>sleeping on the cold steel deck of an Air Force C-17.
>>
>>
>>So...we turned over authority of the surgical company
>>last week to our replacements, who had a serious trial
>>by fire here in multiple ways, including multiple
>>traumas, surgeries, increased risk to their personal
>>safety, power outages, water outages, and camel
>>spiders in the hospital...all in their first 4 days.
>>But a few days ago, we heard the helicopters coming
>>and knew they were dealing with multiple traumas,
>>several of which were going to the OR...and we sat in
>>our barracks and waited for them to call us if they
>>needed us. They never did. Last week was the
>>ceremony to mark the official end of our role here.
>>Now we just wait.
>>
>>As the days move very slowly by, just! waiting, I
>>decided that one of the things I should work on for my
>>own closure and therapeutic healing...is a list. The
>>list would be a comparison: "Things That Were Good"
>>about Iraq and being deployed with the Marines as one
>>of the providers in a surgical company, and "Things
>>That Were Not Good." Of course, it's quite obvious
>>that this list will be very lopsided. But I thought I
>>would do it anyway, hoping that somehow the trauma,
>>the fear, the grief, the laughter, the pride and the
>>patriotism that have marked this long seven months for
>>me will begin to make sense, through my writing.
>>Interestingly, it sort of turned into a poem. To be
>>expected, I guess.
>>
>>Most of all it's just therapy, and by now I should be
>>relatively good at that. Hard to do for yourself,
>>though.
>>
>>So here goes...in reverse order of importance...
>>
>>Things That Were Good
>>
>>Sunset ov! er the desert...almost always orange
>>Sunrise over the desert...almost always red
>>The childlike excitement of having fresh fruit at
>>dinner after going weeks without it
>>
>>Being allowed to be the kind of clinician I know I can
>>be, and want to be, with no limits placed and no
>>doubts expressed
>>
>>But most of all,
>>The United States Marines, our patients...
>>Walking, every day, and having literally every single
>>person who passes by say "Hoorah, Ma'am..."
>>Having them tell us, one after the other, through
>>blinding pain or morphine-induced euphoria..."When can
>>I get out of here? I just want to get back to my
>>unit..."
>>Meeting a young Sergeant, who had lost an eye in an
>>explosion...he asked his surgeon if he could open the
>>other one...when he did, he sat up and looked at the
>>young Marines from his fire team who were being
>>treated for superficial shrapnel wounds in the next
>>room...he smiled, laid back down, and said, "I only
>>have one good eye, Doc! , but I can see that my
>>Marines are OK."
>>And of course, meeting th e one who threw himself on a
>>grenade to save the men at his side...who will likely
>>be the first Medal of Honor recipient in over 11
>>years...
>>
>>My friends...some of them will be lifelong in a way
>>that is indescribable
>>My patients...some of them had courage unlike anything
>>I've ever experienced before
>>My comrades, Alpha Surgical Company...some of the
>>things witnessed will traumatize them forever, but
>>still they provided outstanding care to these Marines,
>>day in and day out, sometimes for days at a time with
>>no break, for 7 endless months
>>
>>And last, but not least...
>>Holding the hand of that dying Marine
>>
>>Things That Were Not Good
>>
>>Terrifying camel spiders, poisonous scorpions,
>>flapping bats in the darkness, howling, territorial
>>wild dogs, flies that insisted on landing on our
>>faces, giant, looming mosquitoes, invisible sand flies
>>that carry leischmaniasis
>>
>>132 degrees
>>Wearing long sl! eeves, full pants and combat boots in
>>132 degrees
>>Random and totally predictable power outages that led
>>to sweating throughout the night
>>Sweating in places I didn't know I could sweat...like
>>wrists, and ears
>>
>>The roar of helicopters overhead
>>The resounding thud of exploding artillery in the
>>distance
>>The popping of gunfire...
>>Not knowing if any of the above sounds is a good
>>thing, or bad thing
>>The siren, and the inevitable "big voice" yelling at
>>us to take cover...
>>Not knowing if that siren was on someone's DVD or if
>>the big voice would soon follow
>>
>>The cracking sound of giant artillery rounds splitting
>>open against rock and dirt
>>The rumble of the ground...
>>The shattering of the windows...
>>Hiding under flak jackets and kevlar helmets, away
>>from the broken windows, waiting to be told we can
>>come to the hospital...to treat the ones who were not
>>so lucky...
>>
>>Watching the helicopter with the big red cross on the
>>side l! anding at our pad
>>Worse...watching Marine helicopters filled with
>>patients landing at our pad...because we usually did
>>not realize they were coming...
>>
>>Ushering a sobbing Marine Colonel away from the trauma
>>bay while several of his Marines bled and cried out in
>>pain inside
>>Meeting that 21-year-old Marine with three Purple
>>Hearts...and listening to him weep because he felt
>>ashamed of being afraid to go back
>>Telling a room full of stunned Marines in blood-soaked
>>uniforms that their comrade, that they had tried to
>>save, had just died of his wounds
>>Trying, as if in total futility, to do anything I
>>could, to ease the trauma of group after group...that
>>suffered loss after loss, grief after inconsolable
>>grief...
>>
>>Washing blood off the boots of one of our young nurses
>>while she told me about the one who bled out in the
>>trauma bay...and then the one who she had to tell,
>>when he pleaded for the truth, that his best friend
>>didn't make it...
>>Listening to another of our nurses tell of the Marine
>>who came in talking, tellin! g her his name...about
>>how she pleaded with him not to give up, told him that
>>she was there for him...about how she could see his
>>eyes go dull when he couldn't fight any longer...
>>
>>And last, but not least...
>>Holding the hand of that dying Marine
Repeat picture I think, but worth repeating:
The flags are France, Germany, and Russia-- in case you don't know
