![]() They attend school and have the option to buy a home at the end of their four years. The organization puts veterans into a two- to four-year program, provides them a vehicle, career training, ongoing mentoring and other assistance re-entering their communities. That's a nonprofit that takes a holistic approach to helping severely wounded or injured post-9/11 veterans become self-sufficient and productive members of their communities as they return to civilian life. His campaign has raised $6,790 of an $18,000 goal (1-8 for the battalion's nickname), which will go to the San Ramon-based Sentinels of Freedom. In Saturday's Ironman Santa Rosa, he will compete with the 29 names of his buddies from the 1st Battalion, 8th Marines on his triathlon shirt. Many of his friends did not.Įrgo, a veterans counselor in Concord who spent time in Santa Rosa as a youth, has channeled that fear into an emotional fundraising effort to remember his fallen comrades and help other veterans reintegrate into society. He came home intact, physically at least. And I felt afraid for what was to come.The 34-year-old Marine spent two tours in Iraq, including fighting in Operation Phantom Fury during the Second Battle of Fallujah in 2004, a six-week battle considered the bloodiest of the Iraq War. After all those years wrapped in America’s security blanket, I felt war had not just touched me. That I would hold him and sooth him while he shook. I looked at my boyfriend, snoozing contently by my side, knowing that tonight his dreams would be haunted by gun fire and screams. What I should think.Īnd then I remembered my mother reading the newspaper during the gulf War, hushing me, saying I would never see real war - it would never touch me. Now, looking at them, I only felt a glimmer of anger. Before, I had felt angry at these men who had tried to kill my friend, had hoped nothing but horrors for them. But, those snarled lips and burning eyes dashed any tricks of the eye. If their mouths weren’t so twisted and their eyes not so fierce, they might have just finished racing or painting a house and were laying on the ground for a rest. If I hadn’t known what happened, I’d have thought a man was standing on the other side of the camera with a can of red paint, flicking a brush back and forth so that the drops speckled their faces and clothing. Their faces were splatted with dark blood. Three men lay on their backs, their arms flailed out to their sides like they had fallen from the sky and broke their wings upon landing. Ain’t nothing more to him.”Īt a glance it looked like a collage of colors, like an artist had painted rose petals scattered across the desert sand. On the window behind him, grey mush mingled with bits of skull and black hair oozed down what was left of the glass. It dripped down the cheeks and into a crimson pool on the seat. ![]() The right temple was still bleeding heavily. Blackened skin peeled away from the wound and bonded with the white cotton, revealing raw tissue and fragments of bone. The white cloth pants and button-up shirt were soaked in blood. James nodded over in the direction of the corpse. James quickly leaned his gun against the door and stuck one arm out in front of Ajax’ chest and grabbed the back of his pack with the other hand. What a son of a bitch, fuckin’ like watching people get shot to hell eh? Enjoys doing it. What a fucking creep!” He stomped around the car and pointed his gun straight at the dead man’s face. “That fucking bastard is smiling!” cried Ajax.” What the fuck, he’s god damned happy about this shit. ![]() ![]() His head was bolstered by his shoulder and a large grin contorted his face, eyes wide and dead and laughing at some private joke. ![]() The man in the back seat sat half leaning over, like an old drunk passed out, bellied up at the bar. ![]()
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