Experience of a U.S. Marine
It was April 6th, 2016. Work had finished slightly early. My company finally had the chance to relax after preparing all day for a WTI (Weapons and Tactics Instruction) exercise. The Lance coolie hangout was crowded with both junior and senior enlisted Marines alike and yet, was almost silent. The eerie sound of the ocean breeze was all that could be heard. Were the Marines too tired to speak? Unlikely. Were they nervous of the upcoming intense training exercise which lasts 2 months in the desert of Arizona? Other than the brand-new guys who had never been to a WTI, I doubt it. No, we were all bored. That’s right. Bored to tears. After hearing Corporal Oviedo’s stomach proclaim loudly that he had to skip lunch that day, I could feel a low rumble coming from my own. I break the silence to invite a few guys out to COCO Ichibanya’s in Irvine CA, everyone’s favorite Japanese restaurant. Each one declined as they busily played games on their phones. “Fine,” I said, “But don’t complain when I’m eating leftover pork cutlet and curry for lunch tomorrow.”
It’s now 16:25. What seem to be the slowest minutes of all time roll by before I can hear a faint rumbling sound.
‘They are just jets.’ I tell myself as I calm my nerves with deep breaths trying to forget what happened in Kabul, Afghanistan two years ago.
I go inside and wait in the head for the remaining time we had to stay at work that day. I sneak to the benches over by the showers since there was another Marine in the stall, and I don’t want to get caught by any higher ups. My head was buried in my hands while I despaired.
‘Maybe all the fear, headaches and anxiety will go away if I just…’ SMACK! I hit myself in the face.
‘I know all too well what that thought rabbit hole leads to. Think happy thoughts. Remember, you have to be a good example for the junior Marines so put a smile on and brighten their day.’ I stand up and start walking outside. Opening the door, I run into Gunny Rice.
“What are you still doing here man?” said Gunny. “I released the rest of your company 10 minutes ago.”
I answer, “I was just getting ready to get outta here, Gunny.” We say our good byes and I gear up to head back to the barracks.
I start up my 2007 Kawasaki ZX10R aptly named ‘Big Red’ and feel the adrenaline begin to surge just like 2 years ago. Just hearing the hum of my K&R racing exhaust brings me chills as I hop on the track-ready rocket. On the backroads leading away from the unit, I crack the throttle like I always do. I fly by at 152mph before I slow down to go down the winding hill to the main road.
‘Okay. Now that I’ve got that out of my system, time to be the exemplary Marine.’
I arrive back at the barracks and get changed into civis. Hungry though I was, I dare not sate my appetite. I get my riding gear back on and leave for Irvine. If I had taken a car it would have taken me two hours to get to my sacred destination. No, I couldn’t possibly expose my stomach to more starvation than had already been endured after not eating either breakfast or lunch. Traffic was halted and moving slower than I could walk. On ‘Big Red’, I could peel my way through traffic easily quadrupling the speed of traffic, while still going under the speed limit. 45 minutes later, I reach the hallowed ground of COCO’s.
I order my usual and the delight of the level 4 spice with extra cheese mixed perfectly with my pork cutlet, rice and curry. I order a second plate to go, placing it carefully in my waterproof container and backpack. My helmet snaps as I fasten it and begin my descent back to base with the golden treasure in my backpack. The traffic had died down by now and I decided to ride around before heading back. This was one of the only times that I could be at peace, knowing that the power at my disposal could protect me from anyone trying to attack me. I was driving at 95 to 100mph, 10mph faster than the flow of traffic just like I was taught at BRC (Basic Riding Course) to avoid cars hitting me from behind. At 10pm, I decide it’s time to go back to the barracks and get some sleep before PT (Physical Training) at 04:30.
Suddenly, my heart sinks into my stomach. WAAAAAAAOOOOOO is screaming behind me. Instantly I am brought back to Afghanistan, the sound of the wavering sirens signaling that we are under attack. Immediately I look backwards to see where the all too familiar sound is coming from. The red flashes from multiple bombs being dropped right behind me kept barreling down on my position. I face forward and turn to Big Red to help me escape death’s cold grasp. Cranking my throttle to the max and pulling up to 172mph, I had made it. The accuracy with mortars of the Afghani insurgents had proved no match for Big Red. I slow down and let out tears of relief as I calm down to assess the situation. The speed limit sign read 65. I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds as the reality of what just happened brought me back to CA.
‘A policeman just caused a flashback. That sound wasn’t the terrorist attack warning sirens, it was a police car. Those explosions weren’t from mortars, they were from the red flashing of the police lights.’
Knowing that I was about to be discharged three months later, I did not want any legal issues holding me back from my honorable discharge and starting college. I took the next exit in order to stop and call the police to tell them what had just happened, clarifying that I did not willfully flee the police officer most of all.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up in the hospital. I didn’t remember how I got there, what had happened the past year; I didn’t remember anything. I feel as though I am on a bed of warm clouds and look across the room in bewilderment.
Seeing my parents, I pathetically mumble, “Am I in Minnesota?” with my face still swollen from the recent facial reconstructive surgery done to repair my snapped mandible.
My dad looked up from his book and smiled at me. After telling me what had happened, the doctors proclaimed that I had no conceivable chance of living after my accident. He said it was like the hand of God set me down in such a way that I would make it through. Dr. Prof. Rev. Larry D. Siekawitch, my dad, said that it was almost like I was asleep, waiting for him to tell me to wake up because the day that my dad got to the hospital, I woke up from the coma which the doctors estimated would be permanent.
After I awoke, my father said something that I now say to myself every morning: “You’ve been given a second chance at life. Don’t waste it.”
From that day forward, I decided that my life would be one that brings glory to God, cherishing every day that I have been given. I would live my life in pursuit of truth and love, vowing never to complain for any day that I am given. My accident, as devastating as it was, had been the greatest blessing that I have ever received.
One day, still in CA, my father took my wife at the time and me to a park. In the midst of a difficult divorce, he wanted to provide us marriage counseling. You see, we were forced to endure the separation of my combat deployment to Afghanistan. During that deployment she had gone to Texas several times unbeknownst to me. When I returned from overseas, she seemed to have become a different person. I began to distance myself from her as is common amongst those suffering from combat related PTSD. Because of this, my ex wife and I had grown dour towards the survival of our marriage. Needless to say, mistakes were made by both of us resulting in the destruction of our marriage. In his last attempt to reconcile the two of us, my father began with a remembrance of our wedding day and how beautiful it had been.
He asked us, “Isn’t that love something worth fighting for?”
We shook our heads in agreement with freshly conceived tears running down our faces.
“But if I am going to come back, I need to be the center of your life. Cut everyone else out.” She said as she laid down the condition of her love.
“Will you cancel the divorce papers that you put in then?” I said in retort.
Her response was, “I don’t think so.”
With my heart content to let her leave after enduring such an ordeal, she got up and left without any further words. She took all we had except the computer that I built, my Plastation 4 and $100. I was at peace with it and did not try to stop her.
The next few weeks, my father helped me prepare for my discharge from the United States Marine Corps. It was all too rushed, since it typically takes three months to process out, and I was forced to do it in one month with severe brain damage. I was unable to drive due to my diffuse axonal brain injury. Having my license taken meant that I must rely on everyone around me for basic activities such as driving to work and around the base to my different appointments. One day, the honorable Larry Siekawitch presided over my legal meeting with a military attorney, since the Marine Corps wanted to process me as a General Under Honorable Conditions discharge rather than the standard Honorable discharge.
We sat down in the attorney’s office and he said, “Given what you just went through, I can’t imagine you want to be in any longer than absolutely necessary?”
My dad answered before I could respond, “We both want him to be in MN where his family can take care of him.”
“Is that what you want Lance Corporal?”
I replied by simply nodding my head.
“Then I’d suggest accepting the NJP or you could be held in the Marines legally for an unknown amount of time. The VA will very easily be able to reverse the NJP and you’ll get the disability compensation you deserve.”
I understood what he was saying but neither he nor my father and I understood the truth of the situation. Incapable of even remembering the entire year before my accident, I accepted the military punishment and discharge reduction while saying specifically that I didn’t remember anything. My father stood by my side encouraging me to endure and giving me the emotional support that I needed to do just that. He helped me endure the humiliation of having been NJP’d (Non-Judicial Punishment) days before the end of my enlistment. He took me hiking in efforts to beguile my attention and it worked. Nature is a beautiful thing to behold. As we went up the mountains we would read from God’s word, rejuvenating my soul. The great climbing was like a soft, warm blanket over my mind on a cold winter night. Having the wind rush through my hair on Potato Chip Rock while looking down at the tiny town bellow, had been exactly the refreshment I needed.
Even now, nearly three years later, my life is filled with joy and happiness that are just unexplainable. I have every opportunity to complain or think I deserve better and yet, I would have it no other way. My accident was a wakeup call that showed me how life should be lived and Larry Daniel Siekawitch was the perfect instructor to teach me how. As I continue to look for the silver lining in every day, it is my desire to help those who despair to see the brighter side of life. Even with permanent brain damage, a severed nerve from the plate installed to fix my shattered mandible, my ex wife leaving me after my accident, dealing with PTSD, not being capable of working even a couple hours a day for two years, still fighting to this day to get disability compensation from the VA, or how my ex wife now has a child with the guy she went to in Texas during my deployment, I have been able to smile every day and seek out new ways in my life to stay positive and bring glory to God.
Written by ~Daniel Siekawitch~