We Came in Peace

The date.....23 October, 1983. The place......Beirut, Lebanon. As a young Marine assigned to the 22nd Marine Amphibious Unit, the unthinkable happened. A single fanatical terrorist breached our compound with a bomb laden truck. At that moment in time my thought's swiftly swung back in time. Why was I here? What was our purpose? What was our mission? Marines are an offensive unit. We do not play defense. Police action!! What is that? If you want to bring peace then perhaps it would have been better to send the New York City Police Department. They were certainly more equipped to accomplish such a task. Take a Marine who was born and bred to wage war by killing everything in his path, and now tell him he is a "Peace Keeper". Marine's don't do this type of work. We fight for a God for saken piece of real estate, then we keep it.....even if we have to die.

Some weeks prior to this attack we noticed this truck passing by our compound heading up to Beirut International Airport. He did this every day at around the same time. He even yelled out his window as he greeted us on his journey. Before long we became accustomed to seeing him. On this fateful day, this man accomplished a military feat that never once occured during the Vietnam war. He wiped out the lives of 241 Marines.

We were not allowed to be Marines while on our peace keeping mission. Marines dig in and spread out. We live below ground. We set up lines of fire. We barricade our perimiter so no breach could possibly occur. We use land, sea, and air support. On this mission we stood above ground. We slept in a four story building. We were not allowed to lock and load our weapons. We waited for the enemy as if we were helpess prey.

The truck rolled through our perimeter. The majority of the unit slept. I was assigned perimeter duty along with many other Marines just like myself. I was 18 years old, scared, and made to fear the exercise of deadly force. Before we could lock and load, the truck passed us by. The dust from his wheels kicked up a cloud making him obscure to our gunfire. In an instant. the building that housed some of the greatest men I had ever known, had been reduced to a pile of crumbled steel and concrete. I was blown from my feet. Upon gaining my footing, I couldn't understand what had happened. I began to discharge my weapon on what I thought was an enemy force. There was no one to fire at, yet I spent my ammo anyway. My ears could no longer hear. My eyes burned. The only thing I felt was the recoil of my rifle. The smell of gunpowder entered my nose and I puked on the burm of my fighting hole. Behind me was a big black mushroom cloud, reaching far into the sky. Heat from the fires were all around. The sounds of screams were the first noises that I heard when my hearing came back ever so faintly.

It seemed like an eternity until someone took charge. Most of the staff officers had perished. The rescue efforts are what plague me most even today.....almost 25 years later. I never knew that blood smelled. The human body, when badly injured takes on a smell that I pray most of you will never experience. It is like curdling milk. The expressions of the faces of death consume me. I rarely sleep a full night without thinking about my demons. If only I could go back and do something different! Maybe my life would have been better. I know it has been said many times, but it is often forgotten....."The price paid for freedom is something the protected will never know".

While in the airport coming home, a man approached me and asked why I joined the Marines. Before I could answer he said, "Because you were too stupid to go to college". The bottom line is that he went to college because I gave him the freedom to do so. His words have stuck with me through the years. Maybe he was right. We petitioned our own government to create a postage stamp for the memories of the men that died that day. It was to have a dove on it and the words, "They Came in Peace". The US Postal Service's response...."The incident lacks historical significance! We went there for those that are too ungrateful to acknowledge our efforts. I will die with the scars I received after returning home.