Roy Exum
In what would have been 1956, my dad bundled us boys up and took us to the picture show. There was a new Walt Disney movie out that everyone was clamoring to see. It was called “The Great Locomotive Chase” and starred Fess Parker, who those in the know back then also realized was “Davy Crockett” on TV. You can imagine how spell-bound this seven-year-old was back then, watching on the big screen about a spy story that happened right here in April of 1862.
The movie was a thriller – was it ever -- but the ending was so bad, after the Andrews Raiders ditched the “General” just north of Ringgold, and when I learned that some of the Union Army heroes were hanged later, not even the fact four were awarded the first-ever Congressional Medals of Honor could console me.
I openly sobbed walking out of the movie and ever since have loved the Ohio Monument in Chattanooga’s National Cemetery with its scale model of the General on top. Some of the Andrews Raiders are buried there, you know.
Yesterday I felt like openly sobbing again when I learned four United States Marines were tragically killed by some crazed terrorist. I adore the Marine Corps. My brother, Kinch, is a Marine. Although he died in May of 2004, he is still very much a Marine and Thursday, as I searched through some of my stuff, I wanted to pay tribute on behalf of my brother to the four Marines who died so senselessly after offering their souls to protect our country.
I though about Col. Jessup, played by Jack Nicholson in a ”A Few Good Men” when he snarled in the courtroom, “Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Santiago and you curse the Marines. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know.
“That Santiago's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall. We use words like ‘honor,’ ‘code,’ ‘loyalty.’
“We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it! I would rather you just said ‘thank you’ and went on your way. Otherwise I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand a post! Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!”
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It was one of the greatest tributes I can ever recall to the United States Marine Corps yet what I was really hunting was a letter that was once written by Marine Major Christopher Dowling. He commanded a Naval Air Station in Seattle at a time following another terrorist attack.
In the year 2000 one of our guided missile destroyers was docked and refueling in Aden, Yemen, when a much-smaller boat filled with explosives rammed the port side of the USS Cole. As a result of al-Qaeda, 17 sailors were killed and another 39 were injured.
Not long afterwards Major Dowling was sitting at his desk when he noticed a female Navy Petty Officer in tears standing on the front porch of his office. As you read the resulting letter, this is the message that I hope winds up in some way to the men and women at our Marine Recruiting Depot:
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FROM: Christopher S. Dowling, Major US Marine Corps, Commanding Officer, RS Seattle.
Ladies and gentlemen:
Yesterday afternoon around 15:10 (3:10 p.m.), some of you may have seen me standing in front of my office with a female Navy Petty Officer 1st Class. She was wearing her dungaree uniform. She was shaking, she was crying, and it was obvious that she was in severe emotional pain. You may have seen me hug her, you may have seen us talk for about four minutes until she turned and left the building. Four minutes is not very long, but those were four of the most eye-opening minutes I have ever experienced as a U.S. Marine.
The Petty Officer entered the front hatch (door) of MATSG-33 looking confused and distraught. Thinking she was just another sailor looking for directions somewhere aboard NAS Oceana, I walked out of my office and greeted her and asked if I could help her. The name on her shirt said "Stewart". PO1 Stewart remained silent and stationary, staring blankly at the deck (floor).
I asked her if everything was okay. Her hands started shaking and her bottom lip started to quiver as tears started streaming down her face. She just stood there, clutching her cover (hat) tightly in both hands as she cried silently for about twenty seconds before she could manage to get a word out.
I was feeling helpless at this point because I had no idea what to say to her without knowing what was wrong. After she told me, I still had no idea what to say. I was just proud to be a Marine.
Through choked-back tears, PO1 Stewart told me why she came to MATSG-33. She said she was talking with four of her closest friends one day while they were on ship last October. Their ship was the USS Cole.
She said that it all happened so quickly. One moment they were talking as usual and the next moment, all four of her friends were lying beside her, and she was the only one alive. PO1 Stewart said the real terror sunk in moments after the explosion, after she saw the dead, soot covered bodies of her friends, when she realized that at any moment, another explosion may take the lives of more of her shipmates or her own. She said she was so afraid that the terrorists weren't finished with them yet.
Then she saw the Marines. The Marines came and secured the area. The Marines came and secured the survivors. PO1 Stewart said that she knew, and everyone on the USS Cole knew, that the terrorists had got their one deadly shot in, but no more lives would be lost that day while the Marines were there.
I know that it was one of the FAST companies that responded that day. PO1 Stewart only knows that it was the Marines. I used to be an infantryman and part of the Marine Security Force, but that was five years ago. I have never set foot on the USS Cole or patrolled its surrounding waters.
The day the USS Cole was bombed, I was sitting at a desk doing paperwork on a quiet Navy Base in Virginia Beach. Yet on an ordinary summer day, a Navy Petty Officer 1st Class who felt the explosion of the USS Cole and saw her shipmates die before her, walked into Marine Aviation Training Support Group-33 to find any Marine who she could look in the face and say thank you.
I was choked up and absolutely stunned by what I had just heard. I hugged PO1 Stewart and I offered to contact the FAST companies to locate the Marines who responded that day, but she told me that she was retiring this week and this was closure for her. By saying thank you to a Marine, she is ready to try and move on from her nightmare.
I told her that I would extend her thanks. PO1 Stewart said thank you once more, turned and walked out of MATSG-33. I sat back down in the chair of my quiet office and continued my paperwork - with a much better view of the big picture.
From PO1 Stewart, formerly of the USS Cole,
Thank you, Marines.
royexum@aol.com