Paid to take a bullet

[airtwardo 6]

> >by Bryan Burwell
> >St. Louis Post Dispatch
> >1/22/2003
> >
> >SAN DIEGO - It was just around midnight Tuesday night, and the outdoor
> >courtyard at Dick's Last Resort was throbbing with the rowdy energy of a
> >spring break bacchanal. There was loud rock music blaring out of the
> >stereo speakers, and the air was filled with the distinct and somewhat
> >revolting aroma of deep-fried bar food, cigarette smoke and spilled beer.
> >
> >Dick's is the sort of bar-restaurant ideally suited for Super Bowl week
> >mischief, because it has a down-and-dirty roadhouse feel to it. The
> >waiters, waitresses and bartenders are charmingly rude, and the wood
> >floors are covered with sand and all sorts of indistinguishable debris.
> >The clientele on this evening is a fascinating mix of twenty-something
> >college kids, thirty-something conventioneers and 40-something Super Bowl
> >high-rollers.
> >
> >Yet there was one table in Dick's courtyard Tuesday night that was
> >noticeably different from the others. There were six young men at the
> >table and one young woman, and while they were drinking like everyone
else
> >in the room, there was something all too serious going on at this table
> >that let you know that their thoughts were a long way from the mindless
> >frivolity of Super Bowl week.
> >
> >Maybe it was the close-cropped "barracks haircuts" that gave them away.
> >All the men's heads were cut in that familiar look of a professional
> >soldier, skin-close on the sides, and on top a tight shock of hair that
> >resembled new shoe-brush bristles.
> >
> >"We're Marines," one man told me. "And tomorrow we're boarding a ship for
> >. . . well . . . I really can't tell you where, but you know."
> >
> >Of course we knew. In less than an hour, they would report back to a ship
> >docked along the Southern California coast, then on Wednesday head across
> >the Pacific Ocean, bound for a potential war in Iraq. So this was no
Super
> >Bowl party for them. This was their last night out on the town. One
Marine
> >was saying good-bye to his wife. The others were not so lucky. They all
> >just sat around the table, throwing back beers and wrestling with the
> >sobering uncertainty of the rest of their lives.
> >
> >"We're going to war and none of us knows if we're ever coming back," said
> >another Marine, a 28-year-old from Southern Illinois. They all requested
> >that I not use their names. "Just tell 'em we're the men of (Marine
> >Aviation Land Support Squad 39)," they said.
> >
> >On Super Bowl Sunday, the men of MALSS 39 will be watching the game from
> >the mess hall of their ship. "That is, if we're lucky and the weather is
> >good and it doesn't interfere with the satellite signal," said the Marine
> >with the bald head and burnt-orange shirt. "But I gotta tell you, I'm not
> >that big a sports fan anymore. It's going to be the first pro football
> >game I've watched in . . . I can't even remember."
> >
> >Why is that?
> >
> >"Well, here's my problem with pro sports today," he said. "I don't care
> >whether it's football, basketball or baseball. Guys are complaining about
> >making $6 million instead of $7 million, and what is their job? Playing a
> >damned game. You know what I made last year? I made $14,000. They pay me
> >$14,000, and you know what my job description is? I'm paid to take a
bullet."
> >
> >When he said those words, it positively staggered me.
> >
> >Fourteen thousand dollars to take a bullet.
> >
> >Not a day goes by that I am not reminded of what a wonderful life I lead.
> >I am paid to write about sports and tell stories on radio and television
> >about the games people play. But sometimes, even in the midst of a grand
> >sporting event, something happens to put the frivolity of sports into its
> >proper perspective, and this was it.
> >
> >Fourteen thousand dollars to take a bullet.
> >
> >As I sit here writing from my hotel room, I can look out my balcony
window
> >and I see a Navy battleship cutting through the San Diego Bay, heading
out
> >to sea. I can see the sailors standing on the deck as the ship sails past
> >Coronado Island, the San Diego Marina and the downtown Seaport Village,
> >and I wonder if any of the men from MALSS 39 are aboard.
> >
> >It was only 12 hours ago that I was sitting at the table with my guys,
> >buying them beers, and listening to their soldier stories. The Marine
from
> >Southern Illinois who sat to my right pointed to the bald Marine in the
> >orange shirt who was seated to my left. "You know, I don't even know this
> >guy, can you believe that? We just met a few hours ago when we came into
> >Dick's. Oh, I've seen him on the base, but I've never met him before
> >tonight. But here's what's so special about that man, and why I love that
> >man. He's my brother. Semper Fi. I know a guy back home, and he is my
best
> >friend. I'm 28 years old and we've known each other all our lives. But
> >today, that friend is more of a stranger to me than that Marine sitting
> >over there, who I've never met before tonight. That's why they call it a
> >Band of Brothers."
> >
> >The little Marine in the orange shirt lifted his glass toward the Marine
> >from Southern Illinois and nodded his head. "That's right," he said.
> >"That's my brother over there, and I'm gonna take a bullet for him if I
> >have to."
> >
> >He said it with a calm and jolting certainty. There was a moving, but
> >chilling, pride in his words.
> >
> >All around them, people were drinking, shouting and laughing. The college
> >kids and the conventioneers and NFL high-rollers were living the good,
> >carefree life. Across the street, a storefront that was vacant two weeks
> >ago was now filled with $30 caps, $400 leather jackets, $40 mugs and $27
> >T-shirts with the fancy blue and yellow Super Bowl XXXVII logo
embroidered
> >on it.
> >
> > From every end of the streets of downtown San Diego's fabled Gaslamp
> > Quarter, Super Bowl revelers toasted the Raiders and the Bucanneers with
> > grog-sized mugs filled with beers and rums. But just around midnight in
> > the middle of the courtyard of Dick's Last Resort, a far more deserving
> > toast was going up to the men of MALSS 39. We clicked our glasses
> > together, and a few minutes later, they quietly slipped out the
courtyard
> > gates.
> >
> >Suddenly, the Super Bowl didn't seem so important anymore.
> >
> >
> >God bless them all. They don't do it for the money. They do it for us. No
> >matter what your feelings about the future events that are unfolding,
> >thank those that serve & protect us.
> >
> >Please pray for our brothers and sisters serving our country and keep
> >praying to bring them home safely.

~ If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn? ~

[newshooter12 0]

Wow... That makes me think of my cousins (1-USAF & 1-USN) and all the guys/gals that I knew from ROTC in college.
It's definitely a sobering perspective.
matt

[AggieDave 6]

Damn nice!

This reminds me of my Aggie brother and sisters that I was in the Corps with, that are already commisioned and in the fleet. Quite a few of them have already shipped over. Another friend of mine from the Corps of Cadets, an Ensign with the Navy SEALS, well, he's been "out of country" for over 3 months. Atleast I know he's still alive, since I haven't been told he was killed, which I would have found out about by now.

Gig'em Boys!

--"When I die, may I be surrounded by scattered chrome and burning gasoline."

[skycop 0]

Amen, EVERYONE (including me) on here needs to take a step back and put things into perspective!!
Sometimes we all get our priorities fucked up!
The next few weeks and months will test us all.

"Just 'cause I'm simple, don't mean I'm stewpid!"

[homer 0]

So true and if you were to ask him about his pay he would say he'd do it for FREE. We don't fight for our country for the pay we do it for personal reasons from the heart.

CSA #699 Muff #3804

[flyingferret 0]

http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/sports/columnists.nsf/Bryan+Burwell/ABBDA98A669FB26286256CB700200905?OpenDocument&highlight=2%2Cpaid%2Cbullet&headline=Super+Bowl+battle+is+dwarfed+by+what+band+of+brothers+faces

Incase you want to reference it.

I still think one of the more memorable quotes for a war movie is from Blackhawk Down.

Toward, one of the men is grabbing food and ammo and going back out. "There are still men out there" In a short conversation, he says, "You know when I am back home, people ask me 'Why do you do it man, are you some kind of war junkie?' You know I dont say a damned thing, because the wouldn't understand. It is about the man next to you, and in the end that is all that it is about."

That was paraphrased, but that really sticks with me.

--
All the flaming and trolls of wreck dot with a pretty GUI.

[LouDiamond 1]

And the funny thing about that statement is only people who actually do that for a living understand that last sentence entirely. I'll wager that line is an actual quote from one of the guys they interviewed because there is no way a screenwriter in Hollywood could come up with something like that.

"It's just skydiving..additional drama is not required"
Some people dream about flying, I live my dream
SKYMONKEY PUBLISHING

[airtwardo 6]

My better half is a 777 pilot for a major airline,
she just hours ago returned from a M.A.T. charter to Frankfort...A load of S.F. guys.
We sat and talked at length with our three grade school kids after dinner tonight. She explained to them just how much we really owe to these very special men and women that aren't having dinner with their families tonight. Instead they are half a world away, seeing to it that WE can.
I truly admire your commitment to duty.
And moreover, I respect beyond words your HONOR.

Tonight, your 'tag' line means more to me than it did yesterday. Freedom isn't Free...
For the sake of my children's future, I want to thank you and those like you.

~ If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn? ~

[Viking 0]

big bump thats a very good read!!!

I swear you must have footprints on the back of your helmet - chicagoskydiver
My God has a bigger dick than your god -George Carlin