I apologize to all you avid bloggers for my intense lack of consistency through the year 2009. But I plan to generously make up for it from this moment on. I now have a story to tell. As many of you know, I have enlisted in the United States Marine Corp. And as I have spread this news, I have received mainly reactions of surprise. (The best reaction yet has to be from my Grandpa Muir whose initial reaction was, “You know they use real bullets over there right?”). But I guess this fault is mainly mine, I have never really expressed this desire to anyone except my closest friends and my parents. So consequently, it has been a shock. The first two questions everyone asks are “are you still going on a mission?” and “why?”. To answer the first question, I give a resounding yes; I am still serving a mission. Wild horses couldn’t keep me from it. The second question however is slightly more complex. So as I explain my story, I hope to be able to make those who are disappointed with my decision, really understand why I have chosen to go to war.
My first experience with military was in the 2nd grade when we were having “Grandparents’ Day” at my school. My step-grandfather, Phillip Evans, had served in the army. This meant very little to me, except I knew I was proud that I was able to stand an American Flag behind our little booth, and as people walked by, they knew he was a war veteran. He even let me wear his old cami uniform with the “Evans” name tag across the chest. Though I was naive to the atrocities of war, and I had no experience of losing a loved one, I knew I was proud of the sacrifices my grandfather had made.
Then on the morning of September 11th, 2001, I woke up and told something terrible was happening in New York City. I watched a little bit of it on the news, and then went to school as I normally did. I had never heard of terrorists, Iraq, or Afghanistan. But they were terms I quickly became very familiar with in the coming days. When America declared war, many of the National Guard units were mobilized on very short notice, one of which was one of our third grade teachers, Mr. Nailwalker. I remember very specifically the entire school standing in the hallway all wishing him well as he walked away in his newly issued desert camis. That had been the first time I had been directly influenced by war, and sacrifices the men and women of the armed forces are required to make. I still was naive, but I knew the men who were willing to leave their families on a moment’s notice, for an undefined period of time, had some form of motivation I would later learn to describe at patriotism.
Eighth grade rolled around, and I was enrolled in Ms. Haight’s U.S. History class. I found the class stimulating and enjoyed her style of teaching. As part of the curriculum, we did a short segment on the military and the career opportunities it offered. I became extremely interested in the National Guard, but alas, as most fourteen year olds would, I lost interest fairly quick.
Military once again slipped into the back of my mind. Not really a career interest whatsoever. I had the upmost respect for those in the military and I admired their courage and honor, but I just assumed it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t a path people like me took, or so I thought.
Then I had a good friend named Joe Cowan, enlist in the USMC as a senior. I knew him well before he left, and my interest was sparked once again when I saw the stark contrast of his character and confidence when he returned. He asked me to come in to the station with him for an interview with the recruiters. I was obviously hesitant. Recruiter almost sounded like a dirty word and it carried such negative connotations. I had big plans for college, starting my own business, and living the high life of riches and success. The Marines just didn’t seem to fit into that plan. Nevertheless, I humored my friend and agreed to an interview.
During the interview, Sergeant Ybarra started using words I had always used to describe men of the military. But all of a sudden it seemed so real. I understood this was a career path very real, and that they needed men like me. Courage, Honor, Commitment, Confidence, Poise, Valor; were all words used to describe the United States Marine. Marines are rough and aggressive men, arguably to a fault. But they do it for their God and Country. I don’t claim to have always carried this parcel of patriotism with me. I grew up quite typically as any other boy. Even now, I don’t fully comprehend the price of freedom, it's a sacrifice I have just bugun to make. But I understand that it is not free. And no one since my Grandfather Muir has served in the military, even though my family in particular has generously reaped the benefits of freedom.
I started to have visions of a new plan. That wasn’t based on money, fame, or worldly comforts; but instead on Courage, Honor, and Commitment to my God and Country. My parents were obviously surprised, and less than encouraging of my new plan. They were justified in thinking it was just another phase I was going through. But little did they understand, I wanted to join because they raised me with a desire to be a man of valor, honor, and of noble character. I have no desire to go to any far off desert country, leaving home and family, and fight against people with a burning irrational loathing towards us, simply because we salute to the American flag. But if doing this will somehow bring peace to a war-torn country and to an innocent people that have been suppressed by unrighteous dominion for so long, it will be a price I gladly pay.
In regards to a survival instinct, it is counter-intuitive to enlist in any fighting force during a time of war. But the prophets have said it is by no mistake that the Angel Moroni, who is placed with honor on the tops of every temple, was a captain in the military. He was strong in his faith, an excellent leader, and despised the shedding of blood. He understood war is the most wasteful of the Lord’s resources. But he also knew of its importance, when used to bring safety and peace so the gospel can blossom. There is no doubt that Moroni’s experiences on the battlefield helped shape the man he became. If I can become more like that great leader by serving as an officer in America’s elite fighting force, I will do so.
Another question people typically ask is, “Why Marines?”. This is a valid comment. Especially for someone like me who has always expressed such ambition in earning money in the past. The Marine Corp. doesn’t give out bonuses, it’s more difficult to get rank advancements, and our basic training is longer, and infinitely more difficult than other branches. However, this ensures, that only the people who really want to be Marines, and who are ambitious enough to take the challenge of war will make it. Only eight of every one hundred servicemen are Marines, making them by far the smallest branch. Our slogan is, “the few, the proud”, for a reason. I researched the other branches and I was unable to find the same camaraderie or the same warrior ethos that is present with the Marines. We are the tip of the spear, and the first ones to the fight. I chose Marines because it will present me with a real challenge that will be infinitely rewarding, and will help me progress with self discipline and self direction.
It took eight months to get my parent’s consent to enlist. But on September 3rd, 2009, I was sworn in as an official defender of the constitution. And as such I have been expected to live my life as one.
I apologize if I came off overly sensitive, or sounding over confident in my decision. But I have found it very difficult to fully explain my heart to people when they want to know how I reached this decision. I assure you I mean this to be read strictly so I can be better understood by friends and family. And I hope to gain your support in doing so. Feel free to leave comments. I will be updating occasionally to give the status of my experiences in the delayed entry program. During basic training I will send a letter home once a week for my mother to post, so those who would like to can stay updated on my condition. Thanks for reading this; I know it’s been long. And I’d love to hear from you!
