A Brother's War
Story and Photos by David Madrid

Early this morning I watched my big brother Chucky, a Staff Sergeant in the Marines, kiss his wife and two young sons goodbye as he boarded a bus leaving Camp Pendelton, beginning his journey to the Middle East.

            To the average civilian without a loved one serving in the military, the war in Iraq might be played out by now, the current focus is on American Idol or some other pop culture trend. But for me and many other Americans across the U.S., it is a war that has become all too real as family members and loved ones still continue to be shipped out to the battlefields for the first time.

             The war in Iraq has lost its momentum, its been going on for three years now and it's just tragedy and scandal that makes the headline news. Even the politicians that once supported the war, now question our involvement in Iraq.   My brother is stepping into a war that is now thought to be without glory or heroism.

             I personally don't believe that the U.S. has any legitimate reason for its presence in the Middle East, but at the same time I'm proud of my brother for serving our country. That's because regardless of my political views, my brother is off to Iraq to do a seven month tour and I support my brother (and all the troops) even if I do not support the war.

            My brother has been in the core for about fifteen years now. He originally enlisted as a 17-year-old troublesome boy and is now a 32-year-old family man.   His story is not the “The Few, The Proud, The Marines” commercial of optimistic patriotism, but rather a way to escape the violence of the streets and gain some kind of economic stability, (not to mention tradition).

            As a youngster growing up on the eastside of San Jose in the early 90's, my brother found himself getting into trouble, being locked up for months in juvenile hall and falling deeper into the gang lifestyle (which almost held him back from joining). My brother had friends getting killed and catching cases for murder and other major crimes. So it was just a matter of time before my big bro fell victim to the streets as well.   But he was growing and changing as a person, and something inside him clicked.   He wanted more out of life then what was before him.   So he made the decision and walked in to the recruiting office over on McKee and Jackson. The Marines was his ticket to a new life and a way to see the world.

             For a lot of youth growing up in violent communities, the military is a justifiable option out, even during times of war.   I recently had a conversation with a young man who is currently incarcerated and is interested in joining the Marines. When I asked him why given the reports of violence, he said, “What the hell, it's just like trading in one war for another.” For a lot of young people, school and higher education are rarely considered, especially when you can't afford it and you have more friends in the state penitentiary than you do in state college.

              Standing out there in a dirt field on the base early in the morning watching my big bro and all the young Marines say goodbye to there loved ones, made me think about who is really out there fighting in Iraq. When I'm at home watching the 10 o'clock news, I always hear about “The Troops” and see clips of faceless trained killing machines. I don't really think or see them as individuals.

             But here on the base, I can see that the troops are no different than any other young person I see at Eastridge Mall – young guys looking for chicks and joking around with there buddies. Some troops even came rolling up bumping Tupac from their cars, ready for deployment.   Now, I don't mean to take away from the training and discipline that these young men and women have, but at the end of the day a lot of them are no different then twenty-something's here at home, except they have a greater responsibility and a tougher job.

             Talking to my brother and others in the Marine Core, that's exactly what a lot of them see it as, a job. Don't get me wrong, folks are proud and gung-ho, and feel that they are doing their duty of protecting democracy, but at the same time, it is seen as a job with little or no political motivations. My brother told me, “When we're out there in the field, we're not worried about Bush. We're out there to complete a mission, and to make sure we all come home.”

             The vibe out there was a sea of mixed emotions as family members said goodbye to their loved ones with lumps in their throats, proud and yet scared that this could be the last time they will see them again. And all the young troops seemed to have been more anxious than nervous as they started boarding busses beginning their journey to Iraq. It was time for my brother to go, so I walked over to him. I could see in his eyes that it was hard for him to say goodbye to his family. I know he doesn't want to leave his wife and kids, but it's something he has to do.   “Be safe” I told him as I hugged him and said goodbye. Take it easy big brother, we'll keep a light on for you.

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