Written by Brett Scaggs
My eyelids open ever so slightly to the beaming glare of the sun coming through the crack of the curtains. I glance over to my elegant, alluring wife, Magnolia. Rolling over next to her, I gently kiss her on the forehead, then proceed to sit up and pull myself out of bed. Slipping on my slippers and forcing myself to my feet, I quietly walk over to the golden-framed mirror leaned against the rigid wood wall. The mirror reflects a tall man with bronze skin and curly brown hair. Above his dark eye bags appear to be shimmery chocolate eyes. Taking in a breath of the crisp morning air, I let out a sigh and make my way towards the door of my bedroom. Before I step out of the room, I notice my ironed marine uniform hanging on the hanger. Shining bright on the right pocket of my jacket is the name “THEODORE L.” in capital letters. My stomach rolls as, I do the final check of my uniform. “I can’t believe today’s finally here,” I murmur as I walk out of the room.
Down at the end of the hall shines the bright florid light of the Christmas tree. Walking towards the open-door frame, I notice the smell of sweet cinnamon and the burning sensation of peppermint. The warmth of the room falls upon my body as I walk through the tall white frame, sending warm goosebump chills up my arms. Rubbing my itchy, tired eyes, I notice a small pillow/blanket fort in the center of the family room. My cheeks blush as I smile and walk softly over to the fort, pulling open the red and green Christmas blanket, which signifies the “door” of the fort. Lying there are two gorgeous young girls. Crouching down and leaning over to kiss them on the heads, Delilah happened to wake up. “Daddy, please don’t go today.” She jumps into my arms and holds me tight. My heart starts fluttering, and my eyes start welling up. “Baby, I wish I could stay, but I must do my job,” feeling the punch to my gut. Coralee sits up and looks at Delilah. “It’s okay, Sissy, Dad won’t be gone long,” she says with hope. I grab Coralee, holding them both so tight I close my eyes and treasure this moment, not knowing if this is my last time holding my daughters…
Magnolia is cooking breakfast in the kitchen with the girls while I pack my C bag. Shoving my plain green cotton shirt in the bag, Magnolia peeks out from the kitchen. “Theo, breakfast is ready,” she says with a soft smile. I smile back. “Okay, I’ll be there in just a second.” On top of my clothes, I set down a colorful picture, then zip up my bag and make my way towards the kitchen. Laid out on the kitchen table are four plates with eggs and bacon. Next to the plates are tall glasses of orange juice. Pulling out the wood chair and sitting down on the soft plaid seat pillow, Delilah giggles. “What’s so funny, sweetie?” I say with a slightly confused tone. “Daddy, that’s Betty’s spot.” My eyebrows raise. “Who’s Betty?” “My invisible friend! You’re sitting on her!” I gasp as I stand up fast. “Ah! I’m sorry, Betty!” I quickly jumped up and moved to the next chair. Sitting back down, I grab a piece of bacon and place it on invisible Betty’s plate. “I’m sorry, Betty,” I smirk and try to hold back my laugh. “Here’s my peace offering.” Delilah smiles and continues to eat her home-cooked meal. Shoving the last piece of bacon in my mouth, I wipe my lips with the paper napkin and excuse myself from the table to go to my room to get ready.
Putting on my freshly ironed uniform, Magnolia walks into the room and sits on the bed observing. I look over and see tears forming in her beautiful blue eyes. I walk over and sit down next to her. “Just stop your crying; it will be alright,” I spoke as I pulled her into a hug, taking in the smell of her vanilla scent. She digs her face into my chest. The dry lump in my throat thickens. “I know, but if I lose you…” She pauses for a brief moment. “If I lose you, the sky will turn grey and my heart will turn blue; life would be dull without the father to my children and the love of my life.” She says in one breath. My heart shatters. Every word I’ve ever known leaves my mouth, my nose starts to burn, and water droplets form in the crevices of my eyes. Suddenly Delilah and Coralee burst into the room. “Daddy, a green truck is outside,” Delilah blathers. “Okay, honey,” I sighed and stood up from the bed. I hold out my hand for Magnolia to grab. She places her soft cold hand into mine, and I pull her to her feet. I kiss her on her warm, rosy cheek and follow the girls to the family room.
Picking up my C bag and swinging it over my shoulder, I walk over to the curtains and peer them open to see a green Marine truck waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, I turn around to my family and open my arms. Delilah and Coralee wrap themselves around me. Magnolia walks towards us and kneels to the girls. “Girls, can you give me and Daddy a brief moment?” Magnolia said. The girls wander off into the next room. Magnolia throws her arms around me and holds me tightly. Placing my head on hers, once again taking in that sweet vanilla scent, I pull her in even closer. Her heart is beating hard against my chest; my eyes swell. “Please… please be careful.” She spoke, her voice shaky and panicked. “I promise,” I said strongly. “Leave the porch light on, in hope of my return.” I pull her gently out of the hug and lift her chin up so we are face-to-face. “Don’t turn the light off.” I nudge her. Smiling so slightly, I stare into her ocean eyes. My heart now racing against hers, knowing the next words out of my mouth could be a lie. “When I return, I’ll have to be able to see the door.” A stream of guilt fills my veins. “I promise,” Magnolia said with a gasp, trying to hold back from bawling.
The truck horn blares, I say my final goodbyes, and I make my way out of the house. My heart moans and tells me to walk back inside. Holding back all weakness, I walk towards the truck. The crunching of the snow underneath my feet and the wind blowing against my body sending chills down my spine. My nose burns from the chilly wind, like putting medication on a freshly opened cut. The trees are so cold and naked; they look lonely and empty, almost like they are mocking me. Reaching the truck, I pull open the heavy metal door and step inside. Sitting down on the warm seat, I notice two men in the front seats, one behind the wheel and the other, who seems like he’s backseat driving, in the passenger seat. The man behind the wheel looks at me through the mirror. “Hey brother, it gets better.” He spoke with a crunchy, rough voice: “It’s always hard having to be the one to say goodbye.” I let out a slight chuckle. “Yeah, but you have to do what you have to do.” Leaning my head against the window, feeling the bumps of the road underneath me. The world flies by, almost like a blur. My mind starts running rapidly, like a river that can’t be controlled. Suddenly my eyes fell shut.
My eyes shoot open as we come to a rapid stop. I look out the window to see many men and women in Marine uniforms carrying C bags and weapons. I clenched my stomach, feeling like I was going to hurl. A man opens my door, and as I stumble out and stand as straight as a pencil, the man glares at me. “Well, aren’t you just a nervous thing?” he chuckles. “GO GET IN LINE, DIRTBAG!” He shouts at me, and I run to the line of men just 30 yards ahead of me. The dry, dirty air was cold. I heard the sounds of men shouting and rustling through the camp. The atmosphere of this shook me to my core. I tried to keep a tough look on my face; I was worried about what was ahead of me. A gust of wind picks up, and snow showers over me. My skin was red and icy, and my fingers felt brittle and numb. A man tossed me an M16A4; holding this weapon gave me power, an evil power. The metal of the rifle was cold, like touching the inside of a chest freezer. I run my fingers over the chamber, my arms swarmed with goosebumps. My eyes widened; I knew how to shoot, but I had never shot at a human being. As I was checking this weapon, I was then put into another line, which led to a transport ship. In big white letters on the side of the ship read “USS Charleston LKA 113.” I walked up the gangplank, stopped and saluted the duty officer, and followed the chief petty officer to find where my duty station would be.
The chief petty officer led me to my command post, where the rest of my troop was. Handing my paperwork to the sergeant in charge, he then showed me to my rack and footlocker. Placing down my possessions, Looking around at the men in the room, I noticed they had a worried look on their faces, like they didn’t know what was ahead. The smell of cologne mixed with tobacco lingers around the room. Feeling nauseous and exhausted, I sat down on the cot and took a sip of water. Once the water hit my tongue, an ounce of relief consumed me. Smacking my dry lips, I take a large gulp of my water. Being so stressed and exhausted, I did not realize how thirsty I was. As I’m drinking my water, a man walks up to me. “Howdy, you look like you need a beer,” he spoke with a thick Southern accent. He rubs his hand over the stubble on his head, which is considered a marine haircut. He was short, stocky, and heavily muscled. “Yeah, man, that would be great,” I sighed. “What’s the name?” he said, sticking out his right hand. “Theodore,” I let out a slight chuckle and gave him a firm handshake. “Theo for short.” “Ah, nice to meet you, Theo.” He smirked. “My name is Alan, Al for short.” “Hey, that’s a darn good name, Al,” I said as I stood up and patted him on the back. “Thank you, brother.” He said. “If you need anything at all, come talk to me.” “Hey, thanks, man. I appreciate that,” I said with a friendly smile.
The ship got underway, and what I thought would be a casual cruise turned into a nightmare. I never knew what seasickness was, but I had it bad, along with most of the troop. I felt green in the gills, couldn’t hold any food down, and my body was racked with pain. The only time I felt better was when I got on the main deck in the fresh cold air and leaned against the side. Right then is when it got worse; a couple of sailors walked up and cracked open cans of sardines. Some sailors held out the cans close to us and offered some as if we wanted it. I thought my stomach was empty, but with the smell of those sardines hitting my nostrils, my stomach found that it was not quite empty just yet. Leaning over the cold metal rail, my stomach let go of that extra part, and I then left it in the sea. I thought to myself, “What is wrong with those sailors? They were not sick at all, walking around eating sardines while letting out laughs of enjoyment toward us. Now I understand why marines and sailors fight.
Suddenly a loud whistle goes off. “OFFICER ON DECK, FALL IN,” the sergeant in charge yells. In line we all stand at attention and hold a blank face. My heart is racing once again. The command officer for our troop walks down the line looking at each face with a grimace; he stops occasionally and picks out small discrepancies on multiple uniforms. Standing there nervous with the rest of the troop, wondering what kind of officer we are going to be dealing with, floats in my mind. The man walks towards me and stops, and with a small growl, says, “You better put a spit shine on your boots, boy.” He said with a deep, thickened voice and proceeded down the line. I noticed that the sergeant that was following him was writing down all the discrepancies that the officer was pointing out. He gets to the end of the line and turns around to face us. “Alright, you devil dogs, it’s time to learn how to be a marine.” A cold shiver runs up my spine knowing now that the officer was a serious man. “The very first rule of being a marine,” he said with his gravely voice, “is marines, God, and family, in that order, and once a marine, always a marine,” he said. “Do you understand me?” The whole line at the same time yells “OORAH.”
The officer leaves, and the sergeant yells, “Get your C bags and weapons ready; prepare to load up,” picking up my bag and rifle. I then look around to see all the men doing the same, feeling tense and nervous. I still didn’t quite understand what I was about to walk into. The sailors who were on the ship had already offloaded “6” and “8” boats. Our large equipment, like Humvees and larger artillery, was being offloaded into the “8” boats. Nets were then being thrown over the sides, lining up with the “6” boats. We lined up with all our gear and three at a time stepped over the rail onto the nets and climbed into the “6” boats. When it was my turn to climb down, I grabbed onto the net and slowly made my way down to the boat. Each step I took made my anxiety grow, and I waited for my next nightmare to arrive. I stepped down into the “6” boat. My rapid deep breathing brought in the musty ocean air, and it made me wrinkle my nose. A spray of salt water was coming over the sides of the boat from the rage of the waves. My face was wet, and what felt like shards of ice was hitting my face from the strong winds. Once all the troops were loaded up, the “6” boats and “8” boats got underway. As bad as I thought the ship was tearing me up with seasickness, it was nothing compared to riding in these boats.
The salt water was crashing against these boats, and I knew we were getting close to shore because of the gunfire slowly growing into a loud roar. The ship was shooting over the top of us to clear an area to prepare for our arrival. Hearing the shell whistle as they went over us with a large boom once they hit their targets. Just before we reached shore, I wondered how we were going to get out of these boats. As I had thought this, the bow of the boat dropped down to give us a ramp; as soon as that ramp hit the water, Magnolia once again flashed through my head. Knowing she and my two miracles were at home, not knowing what I was about to do. My heart sank at the thought of never seeing them again; I knew I had to try and make an effort to come out of this alive. There’s a saying about these boats that you don’t want to be the first ones off. I never understood this until just now when we started debarking off the boat. Following one after another, I found 6 of my fellow marines had given their lives to machine gun fire. Stepping over their cold, limp bodies, I expected to get off the boat onto dry land; I found this to be untrue. I stepped off into the cold ocean water, waist deep, and had to push myself to the shore.
A few of my fellow marines were gunned down beside me; however, I and the others were still pushing towards the safety of the tree line, firing one after another back at the enemy. My legs had gone numb due to the icy water; it wasn’t my will that kept me moving, it was purely training and instinct. Although my mind had gone silent, adrenaline rushed through my body. One step after another, reaching the shore. I step up on the sand; my foot sinks in. I drag my feet through the sand, watching men fall. The world had fallen quiet, my arms numb. Finally ducking down behind the mountain of sand, the ringing in my ears grew. My heart was pounding in my chest, my nose was runny, and my face was cold. Putting more ammo into my rifle, I watched as men were taking their last breaths. One gasp, then the life leaves their bodies. I grew sick, knowing that could be me, but it wasn’t. Standing back up, I pushed forward towards the tree line. Running felt like trying to run in a dream, or in this case, a nightmare.
Firing my weapon, one shell after another, I felt like I was in a never-ending nightmare. The sounds of yells and men dying in agony left a scar in the back of my brain. Being so exhausted, dirty, and hungry, I almost couldn’t keep going. Until the thought of Magnolia, Delilah, and Coralee flashes through my head. This is why I’m here, to keep them safe, to keep every family safe. Confidence and courage fill my mind. I know that no matter what happens, I sacrificed my life so they wouldn’t have to. This weight that is on my shoulders tells me to keep going, keep fighting until I have nothing left to give. Suddenly the air left my body; I let out a gasp and fell to the ground. Confused and in shock, I feel around my body, confused about why I can’t move. Grazing my hand over what feels like a pool of liquid, looking down, I see blood flowing out from under my left lung. Dragging myself to shelter, I lean up against a fallen tree. A warm sensation floods my body, knowing that this is it. I pull a piece of paper and a wood pencil from my bag.
Shakily, I start to write on the paper, “Dear, Magnolia. Remember that time, in the fall, we were running through the dry leaves, the crisp fall air falling upon our bodies, our golden retriever chasing a squirrel. We were happily together, carefree, and about to have two miracle young girls come into our lives. I revert to that time as a comfort, as a safety, and as a calming of my mind when I’m fearful. I pray you lean on times like that as well. The war has been difficult, but it’s now starting to calm. Leave the porch light on at the house and in your heart. I’m going home, Maggie. Love, yours truly, Theodore.” Looking down, I notice the colorful picture I had placed in my bag before. Tears flow in my eyes; in the picture is a woman holding two babies in a hospital bed. I close my eyes and lie back. “I’m coming home, girls,” I murmur under my ragged breath.
Brett wrote this for a school project in 2024. I am so proud of her. I hope that this has touched your heart as it has mine, her teacher’s, and her classmates. I am hopeful that she will continue to write.
