slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

For November 10th...the USMC Birthday...I again offer the following.....

By Frank Schaeffer, and first printed November 26th, 2002.

Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now, when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been k**led, I read his or her name very carefully. Sometimes I cry.

In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live on the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston. I write novels for a living. I have never served in the military.

It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. John's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question "So where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military. "But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" asked one perplexed mother while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should "carefully evaluate what went wrong."

When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, 3,000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.

We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, Arab and African-American and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the scars of battle, or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We were Southern w****s from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing 'do rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-healed parents gathered on the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.

After graduation, one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I would've probably k**led you, just because you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John's good friends, an African-American ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for me now, just like I'd die for him."

My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish and insular to experience before. I felt closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.

Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?

Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?

I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. He is my heart.

Frank Schaeffer's book, co-written with his son, Marine Cpl. John Schaeffer, is "Keeping Faith: A Father-Son Story About Love and the United States Marine Corps."

padremike Loc: Phenix City, Al

Good to hear from you again Slats. 🥰 I've read a couple of Schaffer's other books when he was a Christian apologist for Orthodoxy.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

It's always good to hear from you, Padre. I choose to post this every year on USMC Birthday and one day ahead of Veteran's Day.

padremike Loc: Phenix City, Al

I remember Schaffer's comments that you had posted previously. I found a new article on the remembrance of the Marine Barracks Bombing a few weeks ago that I was going to PM you. I couldn't find you listed so I contacted Kyle, he said you were still amongst the living and gave me a hint how to find you which I promptly forgot then I lost the article. Sounds like the perils of Pauline. Anyhow, the sentiment was there. Always good to hear from you.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

[quote=padremike]I remember Schaffer's comments that you had posted previously. I found a new article on the remembrance of the Marine Barracks Bombing a few weeks ago that I was going to PM you. I couldn't find you listed so I contacted Kyle, he said you were still amongst the living and gave me a hint how to find you which I promptly forgot then I lost the article. sounds like the perils of Pauline.
Anyhow, the sentiment was there. always good to hear from you.

Mike, the following link has pages of articles regarding the 1983 bombing of the USMC Barracks in Beirut, just forward the pages at bottom to continue ontopage 2 and beyond...

https://www.bing.com/search?q=1983bombingofusmcbarracksinbeirut&cvid=c08ddf2152354dd7a3b89932345ce4a7&aqs=edge..69i57.17221j0j4&FORM=ANAB01&PC=HCTS

padremike Loc: Phenix City, Al

[quote=slatten49]

Thanks monsignor. I still feel sad about Poppa Gringo & Bhamer. We may have all disagreed but in a different way than nowadays. Oh well, I too shall pass. You still hitting the road occasionally or are you hunkered down for the duration?

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

As 'Salty' and Bahmer were two of my closest friends on OPP, I also miss 'em. Both were true gentlemen. As far as my being 'hunkered down', I must confess that is more often than not the case. However, I generally make at least one or two cross-country trips each year to visit my kids...my son in Sacramento, Ca., and my daughter just north of Chattanooga, Tn.

padremike Loc: Phenix City, Al

I enjoyed the telling of your trips to visit friends on OPP too.

slatten49 Loc: Lake Whitney, Texas

Mike, tomorrow evening our group of Bosque Country 'Nam Veterans will begin our annual Veteran's Day BBQ cookout. We usually have around 15-20 guys show up. The setting is on a 15,000-acre ranch off the western shores of Lake Whitney. We're all in our 70s, yet still full of piss, vinegar and B.S.

BTW, those visits with OPP friends usually accompanied the trips to see my kids.

padremike Loc: Phenix City, Al

Good for you folks. Have a great time.

Smedley_buzkill

I enjoy his trips to see his daughter too, since we usually meet for breakfast and he usually pays for mine. LOL

Smedley_buzkill

We enjoy 'em also, Slat.

padremike Loc: Phenix City, Al

That's Great. It's always a good thing for brothers to meet in friendship and camaraderie.