Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 29: The Bond

I can never say I was a lifer nor that I had tons of experience in the Marine Corps, but I was pretty good at picking up patterns. On my first deployment overseas, the first two months sucked. Marines were taken from their stateside lives and thrown into a squad bay with thirty other Marines whom they woke up to every morning. There was no disconnecting from your work life and relaxing when you got home. Home life was work life, and that was where the problem lay. So for the first two months, everyone had to adjust to this new way of life, and tempers had to settle down before it became a more relaxed atmosphere. The last month of the deployment was slightly difficult as well because everyone was itching to get home, and sometimes tempers flared back up and the atmosphere could become a bit tense. On that deployment, I thought this cycle had more to do with everyone being stuck on a ship than anything else. But lo and behold, the same held true for this deployment, although the adjustment times were slightly less.

There’s no particular date that I can pinpoint when the tense period ended, nor is there a particular event that occurred that made everyone transition from adjustment mode to brotherhood. Instead, several factors came into play that I believe made us become the brotherhood that I, and other Outlaws, called family.

*****

The event that began the bond, and one that we all wish we could take back, was the passing of Vincent and Wilfong. Up until that day in April, our company had never sustained any significant casualties, and when Vincent and Wilfong passed, it really hit home that we were in a war zone and that our fellow Marines were getting killed. Their passing felt as if a piece of our soul had been ripped out, never to return. But because of it, we began to grow stronger as a company. I noticed a difference in attitudes. It was as if everyone was getting along a bit better because you never knew if it was going to be the last time you saw that guy. You never want something as tragic as death to bring you closer, but it has a funny way of doing that.

*****

The day of the services for Vincent and Wilfong was another step in the direction of bonding. That day many people passed away, and their lives were honored during the ceremony. It was a very emotional day.

Shortly after the services, I headed back to the hooch. My platoon was scheduled for a patrol later that night and I needed some shut-eye, but a few Outlaws headed over to the chow hall on the other side of Camp Baharia. We shared the chow hall with the 2/1 Marines on Camp Baharia, so the makeshift chow hall was mainly packed with 2/1 Marines, and occasionally you could see a small group of Outlaws at their own table. Due to the recent deaths, tensions were high, and you could feel it in the air.

The Outlaws who went over to the chow hall for a bite to eat had just sat down to enjoy a meal. Corporal Tony Russell, an Outlaw TOW Gunner from Weapons Platoon, was just about to sit down when he overheard a few Marines from 2/1 talking about the recent deaths.

“It’s about time they finally had some of their own get killed,” one of the 2/1 Marines said.

 Big mistake. The last person you wanted to overhear those words being uttered was Russell. Russell was a big, muscular guy with a chip on his shoulder. He was a damn good Marine, but it seemed he was always ready for a fight, regardless of rank.  If you disrespected him or anyone he was close to, be prepared to fight, and when you did, you had to fight as if you may not see tomorrow because with Russell, you may not.

“What the fuck did you say?” Russell asked angrily as he turned around to face the Marine.  “Did I hear you just say you’re glad that one of my brothers passed away because that’s what I think I just fuckin’ heard.”