THREE MARINES, THREE SAILORS AND A SOLDIER

By Kathleen Evans-Mazur

I can think of many moments in my life where something has happened and
completely altered my existence and path. Births, deaths, illnesses, world-events are things that immediately come to mind. I'm sure it's the same with all of you too.

Right now I'd like to focus on three Marines, three sailors and a soldier.

My father, a lifer in the Army, introduced me to the military as a child and it's been of great fascination to me all my life. I am so proud of him and the years he devoted to our country. He taught me many life lessons and his words come back to me frequently now that I'm an adult (at least chronologically). I remember seeing him in his dress uniform and how wonderful he looked. My heart would burst with pride.

I still cry when I hear patriotic songs, see military parades or official military honors and remember him.

My cousin Bobby, a retired Naval officer is another I am so proud of. I barely remember him being home when we were growing up. It seems that he was in the Navy his entire life. He was in service over 30 years. He has many tales to tell. (READ HIS STORY IN HIS OWN WORDS)

My husband Tom was in the Navy too during Viet Nam. I've only seen photos of him in his uniform and he doesn't talk about his time in the military very much as with all the other Viet Nam vets, they just don't want to talk about it.

Many of my high school classmates served in the military during Viet Nam, many never made it home. I remember hearing their names being read at a reunion and their photos-they were so young, too young. I wonder what they would be like today, one of them may have found a cure for a rare disease, one may have been president, we'll never know.

My best friend Jim enlisted in the Navy right after high school and was on
various ships and served in Viet Nam. He recently passed away but before he
died we spent time together talking. His military service was one of the
things he spoke of in great detail. I remember writing him all the while he was gone and couldn't wait for him to come home. His letters back to me were
filled with beautiful descriptions of the country and the people, of his friends and how he couldn't wait to get off the ship and feel the ground beneath his feet.

I remember meeting him at the airport when he came home. People were yelling at him and calling him names, calling him a baby killer. It was a horrible thing to happen. He hadn't killed anyone. He didn't want to be there. Neither of us believed in the war but there was a draft and he honored his obligation. In my eyes he was a hero. It hurt him and his friends when people mistreated the troops returning.

Both of my brothers served under my dad so when Jim enlisted I told my dad I
was going to enlist too, so he would have all three of his children under his
command. He wouldn't let me, said he didn't want me to. It was one thing for
his sons to be in the service with him, but he didn't want me to be shipped
to Viet Nam. I can hear him saying: "Oh no, not my girl! I don't want you to
do that, it's a beautiful thought and I appreciate it, but they will send your silly arse off to Viet Nam and you won't be able to handle it, so forget it!" I should be thankful I didn't but in my heart that's something I've always regretted.  I hope things that I have done in my life have given him something to be proud of.

I'm proud to be the daughter of a soldier, the cousin and wife of a sailor, the best friend of a sailor.

Viet Nam was "our" war. Those my age will understand that remark more than
others. I was involved more then. I didn't agree with what was happening or
approve of the war. I lost many friends. I worked to get the POWs back. I wore Alan Boyer and Sean Flynn (the actor Errol Flynn's son) POW bracelets
faithfully for years and prayed for their return. (Both are believed dead).
I've been to the Wall in Washington and Illinois. I remember bringing a list
of names with to find on the Wall and making a pencil marking of Alan Boyer's name. I didn't know him. I only had a photo of him. They never found his body. He never had a funeral. But I never forget him.

During the first Gulf War I didn't know anyone personally who served, was injured or killed in the military. Even one life lost is too many as far as I'm concerned. I prayed for our troops and worried about them but there was a disconnect because I didn't have one particular person to focus my attention on. I guess that makes me fortunate.

This time is different. When Pat Tillman, the football player, went off to serve, I remember thinking how proud I was of him giving up a terrific football career to go back and serve his country. This time I had someone to focus on. I grieved for him when he was killed as if I knew him personally. I still carry a photo of him.

Then my friend's son was killed in action in Iraq and my life will forever be impacted by his death. I remember Phil Jr. as a small child. I watched him grow up into a handsome man who became a Marine. When I found out he died I didn't know what to do. I just knew for the rest of my life I needed to do something everyday to honor the sacrifice this beautiful young man made for our country. I didn't know how to help his parents and brothers, they are still inconsolable, and rightly so. (See dedication here).

Out of respect for him I wear a bracelet similar to those I wore for the
POWs/MIAs with his name and other information, only this is a KIA bracelet.
A whole different perspective.

It was during Phil Jr.'s funeral that I discovered the Patriot Guards and
knew that joining them would be something I could do, a way for me to give
back to the community, honoring Phil Jr. and all the other young people who
are serving now and those who have been killed. In doing so I believe it's
something I know my father would approve of.

Ordinarily the Patriot Missions are at funerals, wakes or sad events. They
decided instead of just doing military funerals they would hold welcome home
missions too-a much happier mission.

My first mission was for Lcpl. Aaron Richter, on 10-14-2006. The e-vite didn't give specific information about him; we were just told we were going to be welcoming home a Marine. (animated photos of this event are toward the top of this article)

It was a beautiful day in October, bright blue sky, and billowy white clouds. The roar of the Harleys arriving at the O'Hare oasis gave me goose bumps and added to the excitement of the moment. I couldn't wait to see the look on that Marine's face.

There was hundreds of patriot guards with huge American flags flapping in
the wind and perfectly framed against the beautiful blue sky above. It was a
breath-taking site to see over 100 very large American flags, and the crowd
of bikers, bikes and others in cars waiting to greet our hero.

When the truck carrying Aaron arrived, the crowd parted and flanked the sides of the truck. Clapping, screaming, cheering, and jubilant people greeted Aaron.

I could see a gigantic smile on the face of a very young man wearing his Marine dress uniform. He was so surprised. Along with the cheers and clapping, there were lots of tears too.

He got out of the truck and was swarmed by everyone who waited to meet him,
to touch him, to hug him and shake hands, give high fives or knock knuckles.
His family was greeted with cheers too. It was a moment I'll not soon forget.

Finally I made my way through the line to shake Aaron's hand. I remember his
hands were ice cold. "Welcome home Marine!" I shouted, "I even brought my
dog to welcome you home too." He petted Beth and then hugged me tight and
said "Thank you ma'am."

I starred into his eyes, the look of joy and excitement was so prominent, but he was nervous. It must have been quite a shock to see all these strangers and then realize they were all there waiting to welcome him.

Quite different than the greetings the Viet Nam vets received when they came
back. I guess we learned from that mistake thankfully.

There was also a look of sadness in his eyes his joy couldn't hide. Maybe
it's women's intuition, maybe just common sense, but I knew there was a lot
more going on in this young man's heart than just the joy of coming home. I
remember thinking "what is this war doing to our young people, our future.
Their lives will never be the same. "

As I moved away to let others welcome him, he continued to hold my hand
tightly. It was cold and he was nervous but once our eyes connected, it was
difficult for me to part, to let go of his hand. I just wanted desperately to sit and talk to him, cook a big dinner for him. I am old enough to be his grandmother so my motherly instincts overwhelmed me to the point where I could barely tear myself away from him.

I noticed a woman dressed in a festive t-shirt standing off to the side by herself, sobbing as she was watching the events happening before her. I thought, "This MUST be his gramma!" I walked over to her and asked if she was, and she just shook her head yes, she couldn't speak at all. I remember hugging her for the longest time. There we were two women about the same age, one with children, the other with none, and yet both sharing the same emotion.

Immediately I felt a kindred spirit had found me in her. I asked her name and we spoke for a while. That's when I found out Aaron would only be home for a very short time and would be going back soon.

My heart sank and I could feel my joy subside.

I didn't even know these people and yet I felt as though I'd known them my entire life. I knew nothing about any of them and yet I felt as close to them as a family member.

I felt sad too because I thought I'd never see any of them again. I wouldn't ever get to know them. I'd never see my Marine again.

Fortunately his grandmother Jean had sent an email to the patriot guard website thanking them for the beautiful welcome home ceremony and had included her email.

I wrote her right away and asked if we could be in touch and she said she would.

In my heart though I thought we would stop writing after a short time the way things happen sometimes but we became friends.

We write back and forth often. She lets me know what's happening with Aaron and the rest of the family and we share many interesting emails.

Aaron, a Lance Corporal, is from the far western suburbs of Chicago. He joined the Marines a week after graduating from high school-at 17. Now he's 20. His mom is Lisa, father--Gary, brother-Eric, grandmother--Jean, and he is engaged to a pretty blonde named Lisa Jr.

The other day I received the email I've been dreading. The one telling me that Aaron had been deployed again.

I forwarded Jean's email to many people and asked for prayers for Aaron and his family, for God's blessings and protection. Kindly many wrote emails to Jean and the family letting her know they would be praying and thinking of them.

I felt the need to do something else. I want everyone to know about Aaron
and his family. So writing this column has been a labor of love, and in doing so I hope that in some small measure I've brought comfort to Aaron and his family, knowing that this story will be read and shared by many more people and that Aaron will be in so many more thoughts and prayers. A small token compared to the sacrifice they are making. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we all took the time to honor one of the many who are serving?

I wish I had done more for Phil Jr. It is however in his honor that I do many important things in my life. He's always in my heart.

You don't have to be a blood relative of a child to worry and care for them, it just comes naturally. We need to do this.

I found the single blue star flag my mother hung in our front window while my dad was away in WW2, and decided to hang it in my front window to honor Aaron. My dad would like that very much.

I'm happy they have brought that tradition back. By way of explanation
click here to learn the history behind this tradition.

Aaron--Saepe Expertus, Semper Fidelis, Fratres Aeterni (Often Tested, Always Faithful, Brothers Forever) Come home soon!

Please pray for Aaron and his family and think of them often.

I will update this story from time to time.

I've asked Aaron's mom to let me know if Aaron or the members of his unit
need anything, would like to receive mail and so forth. I will email a blast
with that information as it becomes available. Many have asked me what they
can to do help. Thank you very much for asking.

Should you wish to write, for now please email redhattersmatter@hotmail.com
and I will forward your messages.

Do you have someone in the service too?

I'd like to open these pages up to you. Please send their name, photo and stories to me at redhattersmatter@hotmail.com