Never Leave a Marine Behind

Adventure | Erina Coutinho | Pencil

Never Leave a Marine Behind by Ethan Snyder

I remember the day when Ted came home from basic training. He was wearing his spiffy new Marine dress blues. He carried himself like a knight who had just won a battle. He was taller now, a tower above my head. When he rang the doorbell, Ma flew out of the kitchen to get the door. When she saw him, she wrapped him in a tight hug, though she couldn’t even get her arms all the way around him now. She kept remarking about how handsome he was, how he looked like a movie star, how he would surely have a wife before Christmas. Ted grinned good-naturedly through it all. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to be what Ted was. I knew I would be a Marine when I grew up.

That was three and a half years ago. Ted got sent to the Pacific right after Pearl Harbor, and he hasn’t gotten to visit us since. He sends us letters often and we usually get them in clumps of five or so. Ted taught me how to play baseball as a little kid, so he always adds in some good tips in his letters. He’s always got a joke ready for me. It makes me miss him more than anything, but I know he’ll be home in a couple years. 

It’s March right now. Baseball season starts soon, so I train every opportunity I get. Me and my buddies play a little neighborhood game every Saturday morning. This morning, me, Tom, Ricky and Paul were the only ones on our team. Andy was visiting his grandma, so we had no outfielder. It was tight, but we made it work. We beat our rivals, some kids that go to a private school. It was 6 to 1, can you believe that? I scored four of our runs, doing just what Ted taught me. We celebrated with some sodas from Angie’s grocery. 

I walked home feeling good. I was thinking about when Ted’s next letter would arrive. I wanted to write him this afternoon to tell him about my baseball performance and to remind him to bring me home a souvenir. He always promised he would, but I wanted to be sure.

I checked the mailbox as soon as I got home. There were some bills and letters from relatives. And an envelope addressed to us from Sergeant Theodore P. Woodley, United States Marine Corps. My heart started beating faster when I saw it. I held it in my hands like it was gold. I ran inside and shouted to Ma that we had a letter. She ran downstairs and we ripped it open together.

Dear Jack and Ma,

I’m sorry for not writing sooner. They had us training real hard and I hardly had a moment to spare. I loved your letters, and I showed them to all my buddies. Jack, I’m glad you’re keeping up with baseball. You’ve got the potential to be something great.

This might be my last letter for a while. They’re shipping us off somewhere, but they haven’t told us where yet. Don’t you worry about me, though. I’ll be careful. Just keep sending letters and gifts. I shared those cookies with the boys and they are begging for more. Ma, you sure are something special in the kitchen! 

All my love,

Ted

I smiled. In my head, I could hear Ted’s voice reading the letter. I looked over at Ma. She was smiling, but it was a weak smile, like she was trying to hold herself together.

“Another battle? Goodness, he’s been fighting since ‘42. The Corps said they’d send him home by now,” she said.

I put my arm around her. “Ma, I’m sure this’ll be his last one. They probably like having him around cause he’s got so much experience. Maybe he’ll be rear-echelon this time, who knows?”

She looked at me and smiled. “Jack, you are just like your father. Always so optimistic. I’d hate to see you lose that in war.” She looked at the date on the letter. Ted had written it nearly a month ago. “His battle must have begun by now. You know, with the timing, I wonder if he’s on Iwo Jima.” 

Ma and I sat talking for a while. Then she said she had to start cooking for tonight. Every Saturday night, she tries out some fancy meal to see if it’ll work for a Sunday dinner sometime. Well, as fancy as you can get with rationing and all. While Ma was working in the kitchen, I sat in Dad’s old armchair and read a book. It was a collection of Walt Whitman’s poems. The radio was on and playing some jazz. The house was warm in comparison to the cold March day. It was what you might call a perfect Saturday afternoon. 

The doorbell rang, shattering the cozy monotony. Ma walked over to get it, not in any sort of a hurry. I looked up from my book as she opened the door. There were three men. One wore Marine dress blues, just like Ted’s. One wore Navy officer dress blues. The third wore all black except for his starched white clerical collar. All three removed their hats when the door opened. And I sat there, in my chair, in utter shock, as I watched Ma’s face fall into utter and complete despair as she realized why they were here. 

I stood up and walked over to Ma. I wrapped my arms around her and tried to keep down my own tears. I had to be strong for her. 

“Come in,” I said to the men. The Marine and the naval officer filed into the living room, but they did not sit down. The priest helped me guide Ma over to the couch, where she collapsed. I sat to her left and the priest sat to her right. The Marine knelt down in front of my mother and offered her a neatly folded American flag. She took the flag in her shaking hands and looked at it with distant eyes. The Marine looked at me and I nodded. The priest was talking to my mother, trying to comfort her. I squeezed Ma and stood up and walked over to the naval officer, who had been standing in the corner of the room with his head bowed.

“How did he go?” I asked. 

The officer looked at me with tortured eyes. “Jesus Christ, you don’t wanna know,” he said. “Keep your youth, son. Your brother was a hero among heroes. I’m a grown man who’s trained to kill, but I just couldn’t take seeing your brother the way he was.” The officer bowed his head again.

“Did you serve with him?” I asked.

“Yes. I loved him. He was one of the best Marines I ever knew. He fought for so long for a victory he would never see.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I heard this. I realized I was not Ted’s only brother. He had his Marines, too, and Navy men who served with him. I was Ted’s brother because I shared his blood. This officer was Ted’s brother because he had seen his blood.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in tortured silence. The priest led prayers. I talked with the officer and the Marine. The priest spoke to me about how strong and great my brother was and how I seemed to carry that in me as well. Ma got up from the couch only to get some air. The sun was shining and the sky was cloudless and blue. Why would God make such a horrible thing happen on such a beautiful day? It was like God was mocking us. I wanted to punch God in the face as hard as I could for taking my brother. He wasn’t ready! He was supposed to come home to us with his chest covered with medals. I was mad at God, and mad at the Japanese, and I was mad at my brother. My selfish brother, who had died after he promised us he would come home. I wanted to tackle him and teach him a lesson. But he would never come home for me to do that. 

My head hurt so much from holding in my tears all day. I felt like I was about to explode. And then I walked in the front door after taking a little walk and I saw Ted’s personal effects spread out on the coffee table. I saw his lucky baseball, spattered with blood. I collapsed into tears. Ma hugged me, crying into my shoulder. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fly out to that island and find Ted's body and shake it until it came awake. I wanted to slap my brother for doing this to my mother. I wanted to punch him in the stomach as hard as I could so he could feel the pain that I felt right now. But he had already been punished. There was no use wishing that he would go to hell, because he had already seen it. Death was his ticket out.

The next week, we flew our flag in front of our house. I took it inside each night and put it up at sunrise each morning. I didn’t let it touch the ground, because that’s how Ted taught me to handle the American flag. I saluted it each time I passed it.

The next week at school was a nightmare. On Monday, my friends had heard about my brother and were all patting me on the back and trying to console me. My teachers and a lot of other classmates did the same. I still felt empty inside. On Tuesday, it was only my friends still comforting me. My teachers would give me looks of pity, and watch me carefully when we said the pledge of allegiance, but few said anything else about Ted. By Friday, even my friends were quiet.

When Ted’s remains had been shipped back home, we had his funeral. It was not an open casket, per the instructions of the men who had handled his body. Neither Ma nor I had the stomach to look at how badly the Japanese had torn Ted up.

His shiny black casket was covered with an American flag. After the service at Arlington Cemetery, a horse-drawn carriage carried him to his final resting place. Marines, undeterred by the cold rain, accompanied him on either side. Ma and I trailed his entourage, both wearing all black. I held an umbrella over the two of us, although both our faces were already wet with tears.

I watched as the Marines fired their twenty-one gun salute. I saluted as my only brother, my best friend, was lowered into the ground. Into the dirt, so he could rot away into nothingness. And when the ceremony was over, I couldn’t walk away. Ted had taught me, you never leave a Marine behind.