The First Wave

The first wave began in July of 2006—2 months after my graduation from high school. Although, to me , at the time, it seemed like a little kiddie pool wave, it was actually kind of a giant tidal wave—and the beginning of many more tidal waves. Perhaps it could be considered the beginning of a tsunami. In July, I’m not sure what day (although if I dug far enough, I could find the paperwork), Steve signed the contract to join the United States Marine Corps. I wasn’t there—I was probably at work, but he signed, and life went on. When he signed, I knew that they wouldn’t be able to send him anywhere until he graduated from high school, and being that he was homeschooled, I knew that his mother controlled when he graduated, thus he wasn’t going anywhere until they both thought he was ready, and I was ready. In January of 2007, his mom graduated him.

There’s two things that you learn REALLY fast when you become associated with the military lifestyle. The first being, that the military can change their minds whenever they darn well feel like it. The second being, that they like changing their minds, A LOT. So, despite being told that he wouldn’t be sent to boot camp until at LEAST July of 2007, at the end of January, we were told that he would be going in February. And as if the 2 week notice wasn’t bad enough, he was to report for active duty on February 14^th—Valentine’s Day. This forever tainted my view of Valentine’s Day, and the military, which didn’t put us off to a good start.

Since I was going to school 2 hours away, I believe that left me with 4 days with him—the 2 weekends that remained between the time that we found out, and the time that he had to leave. I finally realized that the tidal wave had hit. It was a struggle for me the next couple days to continue on the week attending classes, when what I really wanted was to spend as much time as possible with him before he left for boot camp. But, I made it, and since February 14^th fell on a Wednesday, we said our good-byes a few days early and on Wednesday, while I was at school, he was boarding a flight to California.

Marine Corps boot camp, from my understanding is a tad different then the boot camp of other branches of the military. Upon arriving in California, he was supposed to get a single phone call to notify his parents that he had made it. However, on his way out there, he missed the memo about a gate change, therefore missing his plane, and was then flown all over the country in order to get him to his correct destination. This resulted in him arriving later than the other “recruits” and thus, he didn’t get his one phone call. From the point they set foot at the Recruit Depot in San Diego, they become part of a 13-week program. During that time, they are allowed no phone calls, no Internet or emails, virtually no free time, and about 2 hours on Sunday to read their mail from the week and respond to it.

This was a big change after talking to him on the phone every night before I went to bed. So, instead, every night I would write him a letter. I think I sent one every single day that he was in boot camp, except the last couple weeks when I knew he wouldn’t get them before he graduated and moved somewhere new. I also anxiously checked my mailbox every day in hopes that he had enough time to write back to me. I think I only received about 4 letters from him during his time at boot camp, because, I found out, he had to spend all of his time reading the letters that I had been sending him all week, and rarely had time to write. But, I didn’t care—I kept writing because I wanted to make sure he knew that I was still at home waiting for him and that he was on my mind every day, and that I missed him very much.

I had found a “training matrix” on the Internet that told what they would be doing each day. I hung in on my wall next to my desk in my dorm room and looked at it every morning so that each day when I started my day, in the back of my mind I was thinking about him and what he was doing. Whether or not the Marine Corps strictly followed that training matrix, I have no idea, but it helped me to at least picture him doing something—even if it wasn’t what he was actually doing. It also was a reminder to me about what I had accomplished when it came to a new record for not having talked to him. Each day that I went without talking to him, fueled me and encouraged me, giving me hope that I could make it the full 13 weeks.

Those 13 weeks, I now feel like were ages ago. I do remember that I thought they went relatively fast considering I hadn’t talked to him, seen him (not even in pictures), or even heard anything ABOUT him (except the few letters he wrote) in over 3 months. There were so many questions I had for him that I wanted immediate answers to—if he did good on the shooting, and if he was passing all of the tests and mind games I knew they were throwing his way. But, those 13 weeks went by fast enough for me, and I think I coped with them quite well—although I haven’t read the letters I wrote to him since I wrote them—someday I will have to dig them out and read them again.

Despite the fact that I didn’t have TOO difficult of a time with that though, at the time I thought that it was “all downhill from here”. I don’t think that deployment or even the possibility of deployment and all that it entails had even entered into my mind at all. I’m not sure why, since it is pretty typical for a Marine to be deployed at least twice during 4 years of service—especially during wartime. Either way, I hadn’t realized or accepted what all lay ahead following boot camp, but I soon came to realize that it was only the beginning.