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In December of 2002 I found out that I would be deployed to Iraq. I was newly married and by the time I stepped foot on Kuwaiti soil I was married for six months. The buildup to my deployment was quite chaotic. My billet was a pistol instructor with 3rd Medical Battalion within 1st Force Service Support Group. A security company was formed for the first time since the Vietnam War and collected various non-infantry Marines and put them into one of three roles. They were either machine gunners, riflemen, or 60mm mortormen. I initially trained as a machine gunner, but was deployed to Iraq as a mortorman. Accepting the billet required me to spend countless hours in the field training prior to the deployment. I spent more time running gun drills and physically training than I spent with her. To complicate matters my wife, as I would find out four days prior to departure, was pregnant.

It was extremely difficult leaving a newly married pregnant wife to fend for her while I “played” in the desert. She was a strong independent woman, but the both of us need to be there for the pregnancy. I arrived “in theater” on February 20th. We trained in the Kuwaiti desert and protected bases until the invasion. On March 19th I sat on the Kuwaiti border with my fifteen Marines and waited for the war to begin. On March 20th, at 2:30 in the morning, SCUD missiles headed towards the border. SCUD bunkers had been created and we jumped in them. Some hit so close that I felt the heat blast and the shockwave. Eventually PATRIOTS intercepted some of the SCUDS and “all clear” was called. We sat under the stars watching the explosions of the rockets illuminate the sky. Shortly after I received a Red Cross message from the United States telling me that my wife, Nancy, had a miscarriage. I huddled in the tent with the satellite phone and cried my eyes out. Then, realizing that I had fifteen Marines to lean into combat and return home safe to their families, I dried my eyes and gathered my troops. My feelings had to be suppressed.

My unit ventured into Iraq. We, fortunately, did not encounter very many hostile situations. Our convoy was fired at occasionally by small arms fire and RPG’s. Fortunately none of my Marines were injured. We accomplished our objectives and all returned home safely. Other than a few brushes with death we all came out of the war unscathed. Physically speaking. I lost my platoon Sergeant from stateside to a roadside bomb, but he was deployed with a different unit. I arrived back in the States in late June.

My wife and my grandparents met me on the parade deck in 22 Area of Camp Pendleton. I was delighted to see them, but something had changed. I could not sleep and could not eat for weeks. I cried for no reason and could not get motivated to do anything. I felt comatose. This passed, but certain things haunt me to this day. I often wondered why it was Sgt. Gene Ramirez who died and not me. My wife noticed that I was different. I had trouble transitioning from a man in the field to a married man. I often wanted to get the hell away from home and go back to Iraq to fight along side my brothers and sisters. I did not feel like I belonged at home. The loss of our child weighed heavy upon us. Neither one of us was the same. I was distant and my distance pushed her away. There were absolutely no support mechanisms in place upon returning from Iraq. I only pray that things have changed. Eventually I got out of the Marine Corps and swore that I did not miss the structured lifestyle and the things I had to endure while enlisted.

A small part of me still misses it to this day. Time has moved on. Nancy and I are divorced and I graduated with my undergraduate degree in political science from Northwestern University. Currently I am pursing a Master’s in Social Work from Columbia University in New York. I still have my cammies, a M-16 clip fully loaded, and my memories. The Marine Corps forever changed my life; both negatively and positively.