Sgt Grit is a place where Marines can come and meet other Marines, share tattoos and stories, keep up with Marine Corps news, or shop for USMC gear.
Jerrod (Corp. USMC) spent seven months in Fallujah during 2004, the photo was taken on the day he returned home. The little girl in the photo wrote the poem on Veterans day as a tribute to him and the brave men and women of our armed services.
Am I just anyone?
In this foreign, land
Battered and homesick
My breathing uneven
With a gun in my hand
Anticipation is mounting,
and the soldiers are all counting,
on those smiling faces of families to be there.
AT LAST!
Hard to wait,
as they become late,
but they all see land,
and they cheer.
AT LAST!
The waves move aside and splash against the boat,
and their families, they see, are cheering as they smile and not think to gloat,
about the war,
they are dancing with happiness.
AT LAST!
On land they look and see,
the many uniforms and faces with glee,
the war is ending,
that's all they care.
AT LAST!
Reunited at last,
some men sporting a cast,
but nothing can stop,
the happiness and joy.
AT LAST!
Even those who never had a family member there are cheering,
cheering, not jeering,
this beautiful day seems filled with peace.
AT LAST!
At Last.
At last.
When you pass by a person in a military uniform, what do you do? Are you filled with pride? Are you filled with anger? Do you even notice them or have a second thought? This is my story about how one young man from Jamestown changed me. A few short weeks ago, I was with my husband and son enjoying a Shakespeare’s pizza after church when we received a phone call informing us of the death of Leon Deraps. Nineteen year old Leon, a Lance Corporal in the Marines, had been deployed to Iraq only three short months ago. My connection to him was somewhat distant, yet it felt close at the same time. His older brother had dated my sister for a lengthy amount of time. Although I only met Leon once or twice, I had heard so many stories from my sister or his brother that I felt as if I knew him. My sister often spoke of what a great kid he was and how she loved to tease him because it drove him crazy. As I sat at the restaurant table finishing my lunch and attending to my young son, my heart began to sink. As I looked at my son, I could not imagine having him in my life for 19 years and then losing him so suddenly without even getting to say “good-bye.” As I drove back home after lunch, the sadness of the situation hit me and I began to cry. This was the first serviceman killed in our fight against terrorism that I had a personal tie to. Until then, each name I heard on the news was faceless and had passed over my ears with little reaction. This is not to say I was not saddened by the lost lives, I just had no connection that would cause me to dwell on them. Leon’s death was different. He was closer. I couldn’t stop thinking of his parents, his brothers, his sisters and everyone else that now had to deal with this harsh reality. I felt as though I wanted to do something to ease their pain although I knew there was little I could do. I sent a sympathy card with a heartfelt note but I wished I could do more. We waited for a few days until they received word of when Leon would be “coming home.” I followed the news reports in the papers and on TV. Some of my family members visited Leon’s family to bring food and show support. I was amazed and proud to see the outpouring of support in Jamestown and all of the surrounding communities. I waited for the day I could go and pay my respects.
Feels like an act of betrayal
of letting go of one
who is still very much alive
My son in Iraq
and brief phone calls home
I’m fine. I’m O.K.
Terror is not a war
it is the present spectre
always over my shoulder
of two men in uniform
with the impossible news
He’s gone. He’s gone.
I am a proud father of a U.S. Marine stationed in Iraq at this time. The year and a half that he has been in the Marines has done wonders for not only him, but for me as a father. When he graduated from High School, he had no goals, wasn’t sure what he wanted to do or be, since then he has come to realize that not all hard working U.S. citizens are in the public work force. He has made my wife and I very proud when he stands tall, looks you straight in the eyes when speaking with you. I am by no means a professional poet but I do dabble a bit, one night while thinking of him and others overseas I come up with this little poem. I hope you enjoy.
I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is "Old Glory".
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.
Once a Marine is always a Marine. I wrote a poem about an “American Soldier” I am spreading this poem all across America because the soldier is what is protecting our freedom. D. Henry
I am an American soldier, I’m strong and I’m Brave.
I must keep up a good fight, for the people that I save.
No matter what circumstances may come to my path
The enemy will shed as they see God’s wrath.
This sweat, this desert, the thirst of us all.
We are proud to serve our country for the enemy will fall.
This battle, this war, will come to an end.
My purpose for freedom for the time that I spend.
Hurray! For America, over land of the free,
For I am an American soldier, From Sea to shining sea.
In Memory of
Sgt. Leeds, O.E.
Jan 16, 1929 to March 19, 2001
Just a young man of twenty three,
you devoted your life to the U.S.M.C.
The Few, the proud… Semper Fidelis.
By heart you know “The Hymn’s” every chorus.
You taught us as children to sing every word,
and Proudly you welcome the song that you heard.
A Marine Has Died Today! He was born of the womb, and raised by his parents. It could have been that his dad and his grand dad were Marines, but A Marine Has Died Today! He played cowboys and Indians and Army with his friends in his youth, he played sports and chased the girls In High School, But A Marine Has Died Today! He was too young to drive and too young to drink, but old enough to kill and to die. He may have volunteered, he may have been drafted, but he fought not just for his country but for himself and for his friends, A Marine Has Died Today! He went to a place called Boot Camp-a place where he learned how to march, learned the history of weapons, and learned about himself. He worked hard and was yelled at a lot; he was broken down and rebuilt like a motor being worked on and fixed stronger than it was before. He went to school to learn his trade-the art of killing, the art of caring, and the art of being cared for. A Marine Has Died Today! He may have died in combat, he may have died at home, but as long as we never forget him he will never truly die!! A Marine Has Died Today!
They stand in line, their faces taunt, their eyes stare straight ahead. A deadly gaze they pierce right through, their backs cannot be breeched, fingers tight in a vice like grip the steel in their hands, not a hair is out of place.
The uniform is proudly worn; the chest could burst its buttons.
Dark and blue with blood red piping, golden buttons polished true. To finish off the leather neck his mane is high and tight, his cap is white, and his buckle bright, the brass is shining through. Everything upon his chest he’s earned through blood and sweat.