For as long as I can remember, my little brother wanted to go into the military. For a while it was the Navy Seals. He would read every book he could get his hands on about what it took to become a Seal. He also watched numerous training videos, learning about the insane preparation it took to conquer training and even be considered for the Seals. As his family, we supported him in his dream but, of course, we were always a little scared about what would happen when he achieved that goal. Would he be the same brother we knew and loved? If he became a Navy Seal, would we ever see him again?
It seemed so far away at the time, but when in high school he started seriously thinking about joining the Marines, things started to become real. Last year around the beginning of October, he told us that he was officially making the decision to go into the Marine Corps after he graduated high school. It never fully hit me until last year’s Veterans Day forum. I sat there during the program and cried. I can’t really tell you why. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what to expect or maybe because I was overwhelmed with pride that a member of my family was going to serve our country. Either way, as his big sister, I was going to support him in his decision and cheer him on every step of the way.
Nearly three months earlier than expected, on June 24, 2019, my family took him to the first step of his military career: departure day. I met my family in Lansing, MI at the Military Entrance Processing Station where we waited long hours for my brother to go through entrance paper work, examinations and debriefing before being officially sworn into the United States Marine Corps. The moment was bittersweet as we, along with other families, gathered in the blue carpet clad room surrounding the six boys that were about to become men. As a final send off, all of those supporting their future Marines lined the hallway of the building, clapping and cheering for the recruits who walked through and out the door.
I couldn’t hold back my tears as they played “Proud To Be An American” while the recruits filed out of the building to the awaiting vans. There, we said our last goodbyes, cried an awful lot, and hugged him until he was ordered to get into the van. Thirteen weeks. That’s how long it would be until I saw my brother again. An agonizing thirteen weeks of no calls, texts, or photos: the only communication we had was the old-fashioned way of writing letters.
Finally, during the third week of September my family made the long drive down to South Carolina with my boyfriend and I leaving a day behind them. After almost 20 hours of driving through state after state and waking up at 5:00 a.m. September 19, we made our way to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in Parris Island, South Carolina where we would be reunited as a family.
I can’t express the amount of emotions that ran through me and my family as we waited half the day to see and hug my brother again. We first saw him during the fun run, where all of the now Marines ran down the main drive of the base with their platoons. As you can imagine, we stood on the side of the road screaming until our throats hurt in hopes that he would notice us.
After the run was over, we filed into a large building where each platoon marched in perfect cadence in front of eager parents, siblings, girlfriends, boyfriends, and extended families. This was the moment that we had been waiting for, the moments that you see in videos on Facebook. You know the ones where soldiers reunite with their families and all you can do is sit there bawling your eyes out? That’s ex- actly what this looked like.
Families rushed down the stairs of the bleachers pushing chairs out of the way in a vast attempt to run into their Marine’s arms, my family included. We pushed our way through the crowded building until each of us were crying and hugging my brother for the first time in what felt like forever. It was one of the most emotional experiences my family has gone through.
The rest of the day he was on liberty and allowed to spend time with us until dinner. It was amazing to see how bootcamp had changed him. He walked differently, presented himself differently, and even treated us differently. It was not at all a bad different; it was a “What in the world have you done to my brother” good different.
He took us around the base and showed us the different places where he trained and even showed us where he slept. It looks just about how you would expect. Rows of bunk beds neatly made as if no one had ever slept in them. Trunks sat at the end of each set of bunk beds serving as the recruits’ “dressers” which held all of their personal belongings.
Friday morning was the actual graduation day where we again woke up at 5:00 a.m to get onto the base in time to get good seats. The graduation was different than I had expected but it was also the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Hundreds of graduating Marines marched onto the parade deck dressed in their blues, perfectly synchronized.
Once everyone was in place, the first half of the group did a left face at the exact same time earning gasps and “wows” from the audience. The fact that they were so in sync proves the discipline that bootcamp had taught them. The whole program lasted exactly an hour and then we were able to take our new Marine home for ten days.
The ride home, though I was in a different car, was so uplifting because we were now together as a whole family again. This whole journey of my brother joining the Marines has been full of the unknown. Each step of his training is another couple weeks of not hearing from him or not knowing if he is doing well or not. He has gone through MCT (Military Combat Training) and is in the process of starting MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) training. After he has completed his MOS training in motor transportation, he could be stationed anywhere. It could be the east coast, west coast, or even Japan; we won’t know for another month.
It is scary not knowing when you will see a part of your family again. Something is incomplete. All you can do is pray for their safety and hope that they return home soon. With Veterans’ Day being this week, I can’t help but have a newfound respect and place in my heart for its significance. To those who have served, are serving, or will serve: thank you for protecting our country.
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of Andrews University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, Andrews University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.