Leatherneck said:I think the distinction is whether your target is actively trying to kill you, as you are trying to kill him. e.g., muzzle-to-muzzle shooting. That's when time compresses and your blood cools off.
Regrets? Only for comrades who didn't make it and most of all, for their loved ones.
TC
The hardest thing I've ever done, was tell a Marines wife he died for honorable reasons, on a black top road in Iraq, so far away from California, where life is sunshine and bad orange juice, taken from this world by an IED god forbid she find out the 'rabbit mission', or he was just an arms length away from myself. The whole time wondering if I shouldn't have come to this massive memorial, wondering if being a coward and takeing the day off would have been better, not haveing make-up and a womans tears all over my shoulder. The men who'll tell you the down side, are the ones that have been there.
Been in the Corps for a bit over 6 years now, I'm an Engineer. On the second tour as we speak, but this time around is different, I'm thankfull for that and I'm irritated about being placed with a unit that doesn't leave the wire much.
I was in Iraq from March 8 to Sept 20 2004, was there in Fallujah in April 1 to 13 2004, when they made us come back out of the city, only to make it home and watch it on TV the following November. I was with Regimental Combat Team - ONE. For the most part, I've seen things I wouldn't talk about with anyone in detail, unless they were there and even then under extream restraint, somethings are better left on the battle field. I don't talk to my wife about most of the things I've been through. I've been blown up by 2 IED's and 1 RPG and I've had to close the eyes of two of my own and felt it my personal responsibility to zip the bag shut when the last one was taken away from us. When I got back to the states, I ended up getting Purple Heart licence plates, but I'm asked alot about what happened to me, I walk normal, talk normal, not missing any body parts? Frag, in 6 areas of my body, little bit of nerve damage in my arm, shoulder & leg. Not much, but I was lucky.
I've never claimed to walk the walk or talk the talk, but I have the 1000 yard stare, I have the nightmares, I've seen the working end of an AK-47 from 20' away and yes, murder is the most spiritual thing you can do to a man, you take away all he had or was ever going to have. It's suprizeing, the first several really good fire fights you get into, your ears don't ring, the adrenaline is just pumping too hard.
After several continuous days, it becomes a game, the longest shot, the longest gernade launch, you get board shooting people after a week, you get sick of squad rushes & patrols, you get sick of kicking in doors, blowing things up, you get sick of haveing your butt on the line 24/7 and you just want to call in Artillery on the entire city, or the Air Force to bring a MOAB. After the first few times you've lived up to the Title, you've lived up to "The Mission of a Marine Corps Rifle Squad", then the shooting starts up again and all you're doing is looking for more people to shoot at, mussel flashes, movement, things out of place. But the funny thing is, you miss those times, banged up, bloody, scared, excited, tired beyond words, with a smile on your face and jokeing about everything still, dirrect combat is something sacred and holly, amongst anarchy. I quite thinking of my nightmares as night mares and started to think that they are really were I belong, the perfect vacation, shiny new brass everywere, big bang fire works, air shows and the MRE's tasted so good then.
everyone copes differently with the issue... this took me a while to write, or even to respond.