Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 15: Star Light

It’s amazing the things we did to keep our minds off the day-to-day happenings and bring hope to our lives. We would tell jokes, play games, write letters, and watch movies—anything to forget about what was going on around us. If you didn't pick up some kind of hobby, routine, or ritual, the madness would begin to consume you.

I know that a few of us started rituals or routines before going on patrols or right after coming back. Some would pray for protection of themselves and their friends, others kept something lucky with them, like a picture, and a few had other superstitious routines they had to go through before and after the patrol. I had my own, which helped me stay semi-sane and gave me a little bit of hope.

One day, while relaxing after a patrol in our platoon’s section of the hooch, I decided to watch Glory, a Civil War movie with Morgan Freeman. The part that stuck with me the most was what the group of African American soldiers did one night. They all gathered around a campfire and broke into some kind of gospel song and chant. The group of men would hum the music while an individual would chant about something or other. After he was done preaching, the group would then break into song, singing “Oh my lord, lord, lord, lord,” and then go back to humming again. I have no idea why this particular part of the movie was stuck in my mind, but I incorporated it into some of my daily rituals.

The next patrol we went on was like the rest: same old stuff, different day. However, when we got back onto base and were driving toward the parking lot, I broke into a smile, started a little drumbeat by thumping my hand on the scout hatch, and began to sing the chant that I had seen in the movie. Lance Corporal Shearer, who had also seen the movie, instantly recognized the song and got into it with me. He started grazing his hand on the scout door in resemblance of a tambourine or cymbal. We would pick up the beat and then slow it down; one of us would belt out some kind of song while the other provided backup. Lieutenant Snipes’s vehicle was behind us, and he was shaking his head wondering what the hell had gotten into us. So there we were, two Marines covered in dust and sweat, singing and dancing and preaching to no one in particular but having a good time. I believe it was some kind of stress reliever for us. For as long as I remained on that vehicle, Shearer and I would sing the same song each day as we came back from patrol. Good times, as we liked to say.

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I was never a religious man; I wasn’t raised in a religious house nor ever went to church. I don’t really believe in anything; however, I was a little superstitious and had some weird traditions that I took from religion.

One in particular was Buddhism. When I was a child living in Staten Island, my father had a cement statue of Buddha sitting on our back porch. It was marked with holes from erosion and was more of a decoration than anything else. My father would sometimes rub its belly and tell us that when we did that, it would bring us good luck. So every once in a while when I passed Buddha, I would rub his belly hoping for good luck. I took that bizarre tradition with me to Iraq.

At one of the Army bases we visited in Iraq, I found a small wooden statue of Buddha for sale. Seeing that I hadn't brought one with me on this deployment, I decided to buy it. I brought it back to the hooch and put it on my makeshift dresser, where it stayed the whole time. Before we went on a mission, I would make sure to rub Buddha’s belly for good luck, and then I would force my buddy Tex to do the same thing. He probably thought I was nuts, but I assured him it would bring us good luck. I have no idea if it ever did, but it helped put my mind at ease.

I brought another custom with me from my childhood. Each night, whether we were going on patrol, coming back, or doing nothing, I would stand outside my hooch and look up at the stars. I’ve always been able to look up into the sky and see stars, but you’ve never seen the night sky until you’ve been in the middle of a desert with no light pollution. It’s absolutely amazing how many stars you see. It’s as if every piece of the sky was lit up with millions of stars. It sounds childish now, but I would recite the children’s rhyme “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight” and then make a wish. But instead of making a wish, I would pick one star in particular and “send” my thoughts to it. I liked to believe that someone I knew back home was looking at that same star and would receive my message and know that I was doing well. I would ask the stars for protection of my platoon and me, ask them to ensure my family and friends stayed safe, and thank them for the previous day's help. I made sure I did this every night because I feared that if I didn’t, something bad would happen. I don’t believe it ever really helped, but it was my way of relieving stress and hoping for the best for all of us.

There is a saying that in war, everyone finds God. I never found him, but I did find a way to get stuff off my chest. Crazy or not, it helped.