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| Gold Star. |
I remember the time I first saw a Gold
Star. It was hanging in a large window of an "old" house. Now, I
might have seen a Star previously but did not understand the significance of
its meaning. It was this occasion that left a life-long impression.
I was a PFC at 29
Palms MCAGCC, CA, and during a "96" (a 4-day weekend; 24 x 4) a few of us drove to San Diego. We
were looking for a place a few streets off the Beach and wound up in a
residential area. While driving through I saw a "middle-aged" woman
walking back from the street to her house. I then noticed the Gold Star. I
stopped, got out of the car, and walked across the street while the other Marines "dismounted with military precision". They had no idea what was going on. I cautiously approached hoping not to alarm her. She
looked good for "middle-aged". (To a young Marine, my idea of "old"
and "middle-aged" was vastly different than now.) She wore jeans, a
collared button-down shirt, and what we now readily identify as "deck
shoes". She had long, beautiful hair. She noticed us and asked if she
could help. I stammered something about being Marines and why we were in San Diego.
She smiled. I then said, "That is the first one I've ever seen" as I
pointed with a nod of my head towards the Gold Star banner.
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| Vietnam Veterans War Memorial -- The Wall. |
The guys got
quiet. They now knew why I stopped. I don't know about them, but the whole
'join the Corps and kill the bad guys' just got real for me. (This was before
the Beirut bombing and losing some guys we knew.) Suddenly, my heart was
beating faster. Somehow the saliva normally in my mouth had migrated to my eyes
while undergoing metamorphosis changing saliva to tears. My mouth was dry but
my eyes more than made up for the lack of moisture. After a few moments of
silence, she explained her husband was a "Navy Corpsman attached to Marines out
of Pendleton". Marines love their HMs. Each one has the same name: Doc. Her "Doc" was
killed in the early 70s fighting in Vietnam. After his death, she decided to
remain in the house they purchased to raise their two young children.
We made small
talk. She was extremely gracious; and offered to fix us something to drink—"I
have lemonade". There was a part of me that wanted to accept if nothing
more than to lubricate my mouth dried from the adrenaline racing through my body.
We managed awkward responses declining her invitation.
At the last
moment, as others turned to walk back to the car, I summoned my courage and
told her how thankful I was for her husband's service and offered my condolences
for her loss. She walked the few yards between us, hugged me then told me thank you.
She dropped one arm, turned me towards the guys while still embracing me with
her other arm, and told us something like, "I know you are Marines but you
are not invincible. Take care of and look after each other. You do not want
your mommas or wives ever getting one of those" while pointing with a nod of her head towards the Gold Star banner.
Marines do not cry—I guess we were the inspiration and where baseball got their saying,
"There's no cryin' in BASEBALL!"—but I could not stop the emotion
filling my entire being. At that moment I did not want to think about any of this and
kind of regretted opening my mouth. All I had to do was just turn and walk to
the car with the guys. As I listened to her words, I became more aware of her hair.
It was sort of brunette with natural auburn highlights, but what caught my
attention was the fragrance. Her hair smelled like a prairie of wildflowers. Peaceful.
Tranquil. Serene.
Suddenly, I felt
better. I was not going to embarrass myself in front of other Marines and especially this sweet woman. I told her that I was glad I met her and would forever
look at Gold Stars differently.
She was still
standing in the drive as we pulled away, waving goodbye. We ended up not going where we had originally planned. Somehow the girls in a strip club just
could not compare with the beautiful woman we had just met.
That night as I
lay in my cheap hotel double rack, I thought back over the moments I spent with
her. I thought of her husband dying in the jungles of Southeast Asia. Did she
stop him in his tracks the first time he saw her? How many times had he heard
"I have lemonade"? Did he have a similar memory of seeing her standing
in the drive waving goodbye? Perhaps a toddler at her side and holding a baby? Did
the fragrance of her hair bring a smile to his face as he lay in his rack at
night thinking of her? I envisioned the moments before his death; writhing in
pain, the coppery, iron-rich, acrid aroma of blood mixed with gunpowder filling his
nostrils while screaming out in pain. Then perhaps God in His infinite mercy blew the
scent of a prairie of wildflowers onto the breeze. Lavender, honeysuckle, jasmine, lilac—every
sweet fragrant chasing away the acrid, stale scent of death. Wafting to and
fro, dancing to the slowing beat of his beating heart. Peaceful. Tranquil. Serene.
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| Arlington National Cemetery, Memorial Day. |
I often wished I
had taken a photo of the meeting or simply asked her name. I quickly dismissed
that because my feelings of both immense gratitude and remorse could not be more genuine had
I known all her intimate details. In a strange way, this is how we should feel
towards all Gold Star families. We do not need to know them in order to
appreciate their sacrifices and losses.
For God, Country, and Corps I shall remain,
SEMPER FIDELIS
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13
