It was mid-May 2007. Our work-up had just begun. Most of you may be unfamiliar with a work-up outside of your own unit's SOP. For us it had been burning fast and furious and then some. I had a pregnant girlfriend ( just moved in,) several schools completed and 3 weeks in row in the "bush" of various training areas aboard base's on the east coast. You might call this the end of the ITP or individual training phase. But those two majesty's overlapped into near fusion.
That winter and spring alone I had been to Ft. Benning for Jump-master/Ranger Ranger School( only to be yanked back from Benning the night prior to Pre-Ranger due to the importance of another school ( I am not Ranger qualified.) A high speed Driving School, and the Crossfit Level I course. That is what we would call an eclectic mix of training, right? In lieu of Ranger I got to spend 3.4 weeks in Phoenix learning how to jump a new Free-Fall parachute. In theory it beats the fuck out of Ranger School where I'd have been in Mountain phase about that time.
As always the needs of the unit are more important than your personal desires, or goals. So back to the story. It was mid-May, me and DHM we're in Quantico in between Dog& Pony shows in the D.C. area. We'd been specially selected since we we're the most dashing and handsome fellows that our desperately ugly Company had to represent us at the SOCOM tent.
We had two days off between events, and between drinking like pirates and P.T-ing like RIP platoon members we found our way down to Quantico to check out some Marine stuff. In a little internet cafe in the actual town of Quantico I read on a sister site: R.I.P Maj Doug Zembiec.
I will not go into the details of his death, but only will say that it was unexpected to us. If your familiar with MarAdmin traffic on the Marine Corps Website you may have noticed in-between jerking off and Shot-gunning beers that we have awards for Officer's and Enlisted in various MOS's. Like the "Operator of the year "Award given to a much deserving GySgt Hogan this year or Oddly enough the Major Doug Zembiec Award for: http://www.marines.mil/news/messages/Pages/MARADMIN712-10.aspx
I only knew this great man in passing, I mean only a few short times in between a sea of deployment and training, seemingly.
In February 2005 my Recon Battalion was training at a bizarre location in the Sand Diego Area. We'd endured one hell of a work-up. This was the final leg before Iraq, and beyond. We had had a two month or so block of CQB training, then some Company training time as well as some Battalion F/X , and then an R/CAX at 29 Palms. Our final jaunt while billeting at MCAS Miramar and running scenerio-STX lanes was this place. How this happened I don't know. Assembled to help us train we're various Marines from Det. One, and then SSgt Eden Pearl from 2nd Force Recon. They set up a "sim's-house" watched us do a "hit," watched our sister platoon's do a hit then held a brief Pow-Wow amoungst themselves. They pulled us all together and told us quite clearly that our tactics we're old junk that got people killed. That they we're going to teach us the real deal, and that they'd get us up to speed and running on all 8 cylinders.
In a lot of places opposition might have been raised, but not us. These we're the cream of the Force Recon crop, guys who most Americans have no fucking clue about. But to us they we're legends in our presence. One of the most notable moments was when the "Lion of Fallujah" then Capt Zembiac appeared. I say appeared because I can't remember saying much to him other than what you'd say to the Commandant of the Marine Corps passing you by " good morning sir, etc."
I believe at the time he was involved in teaching urban tactics to Infantry battalions at Camp Pendlton. We had a lot of visitors that week, many unknowns. Some I was later to find out we're featured in the book "Generation Kill." Its a small world and OIF/OEF at that time per your MOS was even smaller. you bumped into folks who had been in this or that book, or new report.
The second and most memorably time I met now Maj. Zembiec was not very long before he was killed in action. I was acting as Dive Supervisor for a Battalion dive at the normal spot when A couple of guys from out of town showed up to pre-dive "rigs." I knew immediately who the guy on the right was, then when I saw his buddy's name tape( this guy another legend you will never hear about) I knew I better be squared the fuck away or else I'd suffer forever as "that guy...who fucked it up.."
We built and tested our Rigs according SOP. I gave the necessary checks along the way, always mindful of my level of professionalism. We all have that when we know a big guy is watching. You can literally hear your speaking tempo speed up from professional and informative to "tweaker fast, hardly breathing-speed." I do not recall entering that realm, but I was nervous.
I ran the "Dive Site" without a hitch, had no problems and the debrief went well. I had no hint of dissatisfaction the esteemed Major nor did his legendary partner seem to find fault in my performance. I walked away from that minor training event knowing that I was in a pretty damned good unit. Funny how silly-terrifying moments can highlight how happy you are.
So here we we're month or two later DHM and I on a day off. I was trolling around another forum.com when I was R.I.P. Major Zembiec. I lost my breath, paused for a moment and told DHM sitting next to me. he soon realized the gravity of the situation. I scrolled down and found the details. the funeral service would be held at US Naval Academy chapel on this day immediately followed by the interment at Arlington.
I did the logistical math: drive back to our base grab our Alpha's and drive back? ORM, government travel card silliness, not a good course of action. I paused a moment and said to DHM: "we need to attend this, we're going to need to buy suits!" He knew right away that we we're spending several hundred dollars apiece in very rapid order to do the right thing. This being the Northern Virginia Area, suits are easier to come by than dip at a PX.
We broke fourth with no delay to a store in Quantico itself: timeline not feasible, nor could we be fitted soon enough. We drove to the local mall. There we spent an impressive $350-400 in suits and shoes, to do the right thing.
The day of the funeral we had neither invitation or permission ( none was needed, nobody expected we'd show up.)I called a relative who was finishing his Senior year at the Academy in order to find a parking spot. Little did I know how few parking spots are available, especially for two guy's in ill-fitting suits in a stinky Government van.
The funeral was memorable for many reasons. Seats we're almost impossible to find in the USNA Chapel. I bumped into many Marines who occupied very high billets in our world. The double take we got when they realized is was DHM and I was priceless.
After the spirited and memorable Funeral Service we all jumped into our vehicles and proceeded in the longest funeral procession I have ever seen, let along from Maryland to Arlington National Cemetery on a busy afternoon.
The day was muggy and hot. DHM and I had never been to Arlington. The sheer weight of all of our fallen comrades, and buddies hit us after we found the internment site. I do not remember the section's number, but I know that a lot of men I knew personally we're buried there. I had many, too many conversations with the tombstones of my dead friends. They seemed to be everywhere. Alex, Dan, Jack, etc. Name after name, and to add another one.
The size and amplitude of this interment was to be remembered. Many a Marine from 2nd Battalion 1st Marines was there to act as pall-bear-er and to show solidarity to his family. As was recalled by a eulogizer an experience that Doug's father had entering Camp Pendleton. " the guy at the gate was a FAP, temporary assignment to the Base Security before he got out of the Corps. He looked at Doug's fathers I.D. at the gate and asked if his son was thee Capt Zembiec. The father replied, yes indeed. The Marine Corporal replied, I was with you son in the Battle of Fallujah. I'd follow him anywhere. If I only had a spoon, I' follow him into hell." I hope I did that quote justice.
Damn it was hot and muggy. DHM had tried to tie my tie right( still have not learned) It looked like Mr. Furley from 3's Company( before most of your times.) Assembled besides the Heroes of 2/1 we're former USNA Grad, Silver Stars, Bronze Stars, man Purple Hearts and a few awards higher. Officers at the one star level, a whose who of the warrior elite, and DHM and me. Ill-fitting suits and all. DHM never questioned why I said we had to do this, He didn't balk at the cost we we're incurring to our own wallets. He knew that we had to do this, right time right place.
The look on the face of several of the Officers that we would work closely with later on spelled it out." We we're doing that Dog&Pony show, heard about it, thought we have to be here. Bought suits, no time for Alpha's."
As a young Marine I did many funeral details. In the old days is was for old guys, WWII, and quite a few Vietnam era Marines. In fact my first detail as a 20 year old Lance Corporal was escorting the mother of a Vietnam Marine LCPL to the site then handing the recently folded flag to her reciting the endearingly painful stock speech" On behalf of a grateful nation......."
Back then is was old guys, the one time suicide. It was guys that died long after the war and whose family's got to watch Dad grow old. Now like many of my buddy's of recent, we prepared to bury a legend. As always the USMC Burial Team, Band and Honor Guard reminded us of why we are Marines. Shivers down my spine as I write this, the internment went flawlessly. Hundreds of us stood swaying un-easily in the suffocating heat and humidity where a few acres away tourists gathered to see this national treasure.
DHM and I retreated to the safety of our hotel. To Running some ungodly trek through Arlington City proper, finishing soaked in sweat I saunterd to the hotel bar. DHM got tired of dripping ball sweat on the bar floor and left for his room. I stood in line dripping until I got the head of the line. Free beer for guests during happy hour, not bad.
In those two instance's mentioned above I ran into a Marine Corps Legend in some wild and varied places. At the end of the day, when my boys grow up and I tell them, " yea I knew that guy." Or I worked for so and so, or I was in charge of so and so, I hope they understand what that means.
I really hope you prospective CSO's reading this are catching on to the real meaning. The biggest and most glaring thing is: we are a very new unit, but we are old in tradition. It may sound like I'm beating my chest about who I knew or when I knew them, not so. The real lesson hear is that you, yes you can have a real impact on very large happenings in the Marine Corps.
Expect me to edit for misspellings in the coming days.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_A._Zembiec
That winter and spring alone I had been to Ft. Benning for Jump-master/Ranger Ranger School( only to be yanked back from Benning the night prior to Pre-Ranger due to the importance of another school ( I am not Ranger qualified.) A high speed Driving School, and the Crossfit Level I course. That is what we would call an eclectic mix of training, right? In lieu of Ranger I got to spend 3.4 weeks in Phoenix learning how to jump a new Free-Fall parachute. In theory it beats the fuck out of Ranger School where I'd have been in Mountain phase about that time.
As always the needs of the unit are more important than your personal desires, or goals. So back to the story. It was mid-May, me and DHM we're in Quantico in between Dog& Pony shows in the D.C. area. We'd been specially selected since we we're the most dashing and handsome fellows that our desperately ugly Company had to represent us at the SOCOM tent.
We had two days off between events, and between drinking like pirates and P.T-ing like RIP platoon members we found our way down to Quantico to check out some Marine stuff. In a little internet cafe in the actual town of Quantico I read on a sister site: R.I.P Maj Doug Zembiec.
I will not go into the details of his death, but only will say that it was unexpected to us. If your familiar with MarAdmin traffic on the Marine Corps Website you may have noticed in-between jerking off and Shot-gunning beers that we have awards for Officer's and Enlisted in various MOS's. Like the "Operator of the year "Award given to a much deserving GySgt Hogan this year or Oddly enough the Major Doug Zembiec Award for: http://www.marines.mil/news/messages/Pages/MARADMIN712-10.aspx
I only knew this great man in passing, I mean only a few short times in between a sea of deployment and training, seemingly.
In February 2005 my Recon Battalion was training at a bizarre location in the Sand Diego Area. We'd endured one hell of a work-up. This was the final leg before Iraq, and beyond. We had had a two month or so block of CQB training, then some Company training time as well as some Battalion F/X , and then an R/CAX at 29 Palms. Our final jaunt while billeting at MCAS Miramar and running scenerio-STX lanes was this place. How this happened I don't know. Assembled to help us train we're various Marines from Det. One, and then SSgt Eden Pearl from 2nd Force Recon. They set up a "sim's-house" watched us do a "hit," watched our sister platoon's do a hit then held a brief Pow-Wow amoungst themselves. They pulled us all together and told us quite clearly that our tactics we're old junk that got people killed. That they we're going to teach us the real deal, and that they'd get us up to speed and running on all 8 cylinders.
In a lot of places opposition might have been raised, but not us. These we're the cream of the Force Recon crop, guys who most Americans have no fucking clue about. But to us they we're legends in our presence. One of the most notable moments was when the "Lion of Fallujah" then Capt Zembiac appeared. I say appeared because I can't remember saying much to him other than what you'd say to the Commandant of the Marine Corps passing you by " good morning sir, etc."
I believe at the time he was involved in teaching urban tactics to Infantry battalions at Camp Pendlton. We had a lot of visitors that week, many unknowns. Some I was later to find out we're featured in the book "Generation Kill." Its a small world and OIF/OEF at that time per your MOS was even smaller. you bumped into folks who had been in this or that book, or new report.
The second and most memorably time I met now Maj. Zembiec was not very long before he was killed in action. I was acting as Dive Supervisor for a Battalion dive at the normal spot when A couple of guys from out of town showed up to pre-dive "rigs." I knew immediately who the guy on the right was, then when I saw his buddy's name tape( this guy another legend you will never hear about) I knew I better be squared the fuck away or else I'd suffer forever as "that guy...who fucked it up.."
We built and tested our Rigs according SOP. I gave the necessary checks along the way, always mindful of my level of professionalism. We all have that when we know a big guy is watching. You can literally hear your speaking tempo speed up from professional and informative to "tweaker fast, hardly breathing-speed." I do not recall entering that realm, but I was nervous.
I ran the "Dive Site" without a hitch, had no problems and the debrief went well. I had no hint of dissatisfaction the esteemed Major nor did his legendary partner seem to find fault in my performance. I walked away from that minor training event knowing that I was in a pretty damned good unit. Funny how silly-terrifying moments can highlight how happy you are.
So here we we're month or two later DHM and I on a day off. I was trolling around another forum.com when I was R.I.P. Major Zembiec. I lost my breath, paused for a moment and told DHM sitting next to me. he soon realized the gravity of the situation. I scrolled down and found the details. the funeral service would be held at US Naval Academy chapel on this day immediately followed by the interment at Arlington.
I did the logistical math: drive back to our base grab our Alpha's and drive back? ORM, government travel card silliness, not a good course of action. I paused a moment and said to DHM: "we need to attend this, we're going to need to buy suits!" He knew right away that we we're spending several hundred dollars apiece in very rapid order to do the right thing. This being the Northern Virginia Area, suits are easier to come by than dip at a PX.
We broke fourth with no delay to a store in Quantico itself: timeline not feasible, nor could we be fitted soon enough. We drove to the local mall. There we spent an impressive $350-400 in suits and shoes, to do the right thing.
The day of the funeral we had neither invitation or permission ( none was needed, nobody expected we'd show up.)I called a relative who was finishing his Senior year at the Academy in order to find a parking spot. Little did I know how few parking spots are available, especially for two guy's in ill-fitting suits in a stinky Government van.
The funeral was memorable for many reasons. Seats we're almost impossible to find in the USNA Chapel. I bumped into many Marines who occupied very high billets in our world. The double take we got when they realized is was DHM and I was priceless.
After the spirited and memorable Funeral Service we all jumped into our vehicles and proceeded in the longest funeral procession I have ever seen, let along from Maryland to Arlington National Cemetery on a busy afternoon.
The day was muggy and hot. DHM and I had never been to Arlington. The sheer weight of all of our fallen comrades, and buddies hit us after we found the internment site. I do not remember the section's number, but I know that a lot of men I knew personally we're buried there. I had many, too many conversations with the tombstones of my dead friends. They seemed to be everywhere. Alex, Dan, Jack, etc. Name after name, and to add another one.
The size and amplitude of this interment was to be remembered. Many a Marine from 2nd Battalion 1st Marines was there to act as pall-bear-er and to show solidarity to his family. As was recalled by a eulogizer an experience that Doug's father had entering Camp Pendleton. " the guy at the gate was a FAP, temporary assignment to the Base Security before he got out of the Corps. He looked at Doug's fathers I.D. at the gate and asked if his son was thee Capt Zembiec. The father replied, yes indeed. The Marine Corporal replied, I was with you son in the Battle of Fallujah. I'd follow him anywhere. If I only had a spoon, I' follow him into hell." I hope I did that quote justice.
Damn it was hot and muggy. DHM had tried to tie my tie right( still have not learned) It looked like Mr. Furley from 3's Company( before most of your times.) Assembled besides the Heroes of 2/1 we're former USNA Grad, Silver Stars, Bronze Stars, man Purple Hearts and a few awards higher. Officers at the one star level, a whose who of the warrior elite, and DHM and me. Ill-fitting suits and all. DHM never questioned why I said we had to do this, He didn't balk at the cost we we're incurring to our own wallets. He knew that we had to do this, right time right place.
The look on the face of several of the Officers that we would work closely with later on spelled it out." We we're doing that Dog&Pony show, heard about it, thought we have to be here. Bought suits, no time for Alpha's."
As a young Marine I did many funeral details. In the old days is was for old guys, WWII, and quite a few Vietnam era Marines. In fact my first detail as a 20 year old Lance Corporal was escorting the mother of a Vietnam Marine LCPL to the site then handing the recently folded flag to her reciting the endearingly painful stock speech" On behalf of a grateful nation......."
Back then is was old guys, the one time suicide. It was guys that died long after the war and whose family's got to watch Dad grow old. Now like many of my buddy's of recent, we prepared to bury a legend. As always the USMC Burial Team, Band and Honor Guard reminded us of why we are Marines. Shivers down my spine as I write this, the internment went flawlessly. Hundreds of us stood swaying un-easily in the suffocating heat and humidity where a few acres away tourists gathered to see this national treasure.
DHM and I retreated to the safety of our hotel. To Running some ungodly trek through Arlington City proper, finishing soaked in sweat I saunterd to the hotel bar. DHM got tired of dripping ball sweat on the bar floor and left for his room. I stood in line dripping until I got the head of the line. Free beer for guests during happy hour, not bad.
In those two instance's mentioned above I ran into a Marine Corps Legend in some wild and varied places. At the end of the day, when my boys grow up and I tell them, " yea I knew that guy." Or I worked for so and so, or I was in charge of so and so, I hope they understand what that means.
I really hope you prospective CSO's reading this are catching on to the real meaning. The biggest and most glaring thing is: we are a very new unit, but we are old in tradition. It may sound like I'm beating my chest about who I knew or when I knew them, not so. The real lesson hear is that you, yes you can have a real impact on very large happenings in the Marine Corps.
Expect me to edit for misspellings in the coming days.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_A._Zembiec
