Dracanon
29-12-2007, 07:14 PM
Hi, this is the first time I have ever done this. I just have recently gone to counseling at the vets center here in Santa Cruz, CA, and I am working on a medical/honorable discharge upgrade. I joined the Marines and went to bootcamp in June of 2000. I wanted to change my life, and I had been stoned and drunk for a whole year from seventeen to eighteen. I went back to school to get credits I needed to join, and I sobered up. I was sooo motivated. My grandpa had been in the Navy in world war two, and had joined when he was only fifteen, and was shooting at japanese zero's at sixteen as a tail gunner on a dauntless dive bomber. I grew up in Santa Cruz, CA. My parents were both born in Cali, and my mom's dad was from South Africa, Cape town. I believe in past lives, partly so because I grew up with buddhist teaching in my family. I believe I was in the military in past lives, because I always have felt a strong connection to anything military growing up. I orignally wanted to be a sailor, but by the time I was eighteen I changed my mind, and instead went with the "few, the proud". I loved the Corps. I had a rough time sometimes, given my mellow upbringing, but I enjoyed the fact that I was apart of something greater than myself. I just wanted to be a hero to myself and others, and have people look up to me. I grew up with lots of friends, and I always made friends with people easily. I grew up watching full metal jacket, platoon, and other movies like that. I wanted to be a real man.
I signed up as a 0311 infantryman, and while I was in bootcamp, a first sergeant from some place called "8th & I Marine Barracks, came looking for volunteers to go to Washington D.C.. I had gone there as a teenager, and I thought that it was a cool place. I thought it sounded like a real career oppurtunity. I became a Honorguardsman. I went from a metal/goth pot head, with inspirations, a infantry/honorguardsman, Semper Fi! I did full honor funerals at Arlington National Cemetery, Honor ceremonies at the Pentagon for foreign dignitaries, such as King Abdullah of Jordan, and many others I can't recall at the moment. I was in President Bush's first inauguration ceremony, Donald Rumfield's inauguration ceremony, saw Bob Doll twice too. Fifty percent of what I did though was funerals. I did so many, it had to be in the hundreds. One time I stood in front of a casket, and guarded the remains of a Marine who's remains had been recovered from the south Pacific Islands, in world war 2. The discipline was extreme, and fanatical. The silent drill platoon for the Marine Corps was stationed there too. I made it through my first year no problem. I mean, it was hard, I drank way too much, and I cried alot, but I made it through that first year, and my first parade season at the barracks and the Iwo Jima Memorial near Arlington Cemetery. I was soo happy, I felt better than I ever had. I had had a friend die that year, and my grandmother died in August of 2001. I was very close to her. It felt like she was watching me in D.C. after she died. Then 9/11 happened. All the first years like myself had to move into the city, and I roomed up with two other marines, and found a place in Crofton, Maryland. I was in the process of moving out with one of the other marines, named Paul Bushnell, we were on the road, I 95, when we heard about the first plane hitting one of the twin towers. My first thought was, "oh, it had to be a Cessna, or some sort of small plane." Then a second plane hit, and then the Pentagon was hit. I knew we were at war. We drove to our apt., and called home and let our parents know we were okay, since we both did stuff at the Pentagon sometimes. We drove back going ninety, and got back and people were chaotic. When we left everything was threat level Alpha, and like an hour later it was threat level Delta. This was the first time D.C. had been attacked since 1812, when the british invaded.
As soon as we got back, we found our sergeant, who was only glad to see us okay. We went downstairs to the Armory, and drew out M-16's with Bayonets, this was the first time ever that I ever saw my Bayonet. Our platoon's floor was on the fourth floor on A Co side. There was a B Company side, and a A Company side. Our side faced the Pentagon. I never had been able to make out the Pentagon before then, and the only way I could see it that day was because of the dark smoke pouring out of it, it was hellish. I will never forget that. I was only twenty years of age when this happened. I had been scheduled to go on leave on Sept. 14th, for my grandmothers funeral, and they actually went ahead and let me go home. The funny thing was, because of the attacks, I couldn't make it out of the airport until the 16th, so I missed my grandmothers funeral. I felt such a releaf to be alive, and it felt like Pearl Harbor had just happened all over again. I applied for my driver's license, since I lived about thirty minutes away from my station. I failed the first time. I was soo worried. I only had to more days left, and I needed my own car. One of my roommates was nuts, and had a loaded pistol in our apt. He's mental state had worsened after 9/11, and I was afraid of him. He was bigger than me, and had been my roommate before in the Barracks, his last name was Marin. I met Marin in School of Infantry, and I thought he was an okay guy. Being at the Barracks though, made him nuts. He would threaten to kill me if I didn't do everything he said most of the time. He was one rank higher than me, and Marines at 8th & I took rank seriously. He also kept a loaded pistol in our room, I didn't know that until we were moving out, and he showed it to me. I am surprised he never used it on me, because there were times I thought he would try to take me out. I no longer hate this guy anymore, I realise that the station we were at, and being stationed in South East D.C. could make one a little crazy. Marine Barracks 8th & I was built back in 1801, and is the oldest post in the marine corps. The Barracks is also one of the oldest buildings in D.C., because the british didn't burn it down with everything else back in 1812, when the invaded. South East D.C. is a ghetto now, and if it wasn't for the Barracks, it would be alot worse. I think D.C. has a murder rate of three a week. The barracks has some really bad hauntings too. I experienced several, and one of them another marine experienced it with me. It got to the point I slept with headphones on, because I couldn't sleep without having some background noise to calm me.
After 9/11, I got put on guard duty, and thats when I think my PTSD started full force. I guarded the A Company double glass doors, on the first floor. They had to move the regular security forces to in front of the Commandants house, so they took marchers and made them guards. I was qualified to use a M-16, saw, etc. but I was unarmed for the entire time guarding. The Marine I replaced had had a metal pole, and he passed it along to me. That was my only protection. I had my flak jacket, and kevlar(helmet) and web gear, but no weapon. The regular guards always had pistols and shotguns or visa versa. Anybody on the street could walk through my post, and it seemed like every night I was there a very Osama Bin Laden looking Arabic male would come through with a pizza to deliver. I thought one of those times one of them would just whip out an UZI and waste me right there and then. Nothing would have stopped them. This was all a mile and a half from the Nation Capitol Building. It was unbelievable.
When I purchased my car, I ended up moving out from Crofton, and that crazy guy Marin to my best friend to this day, Gregory Abdullahs home with his wife and child. Me and greg met in Bootcamp, he was my guidon. We also served in the same platoon in school of infantry, and at 8th and I in A company, First platoon, Ace's Wild. The Silent Drill platoon for the Marine Corps was the third platoon in that company. They lived in Oxen Hill, Maryland, which was only fifteen minutes away from the barracks. It had to be the first time I felt relaxed in the Marines, Greg and his wife and child were awsome. We went on a couple of trips all together, and had alot of fun.
So, when I got my car, I purchased it in Fairfax, Virginia. I bought it from a used Mazda dealership, and I made friends with all of the guys that worked there. I became good friends with the Manager, and I got invited to hang out at his place with his cool model wife. This guy was really cool. We would hangout in his barroom he made and just talk. I started smoking pot with him too. I was like turning on a light bulb in my head. I felt like I was relaxed and calm for the first time in a long time. I stopped drinking after that, and for a good reason too because I was becoming a drunk, and I have always been a bad drunk. I ended up popping on a piss test, and got sent to the brig for three weeks in Quantico, Virginia. There was so many drug offences happening at that time, that I didn't actually go to the brig until months after I got busted. I actually continued to do funerals, and other stuff just like before. Some guys even joked that I wouldn't get into any trouble at all. After I got out of the brig, I was back at the barracks for another week, then I got sent back home. One day in Washington D.C. after being there for a year and a half, next day back in Santa Cruz. It took me a few years before I felt normal again. I was so happy at first to be home, and to see my friends and family, that I was totally unprepared for the reception I would get. My "friends" from grade school tried to jump me, and pulled knives on me, eventual I had to fight one of them to make them leave me alone. I still don't talk to them to this day. I cried alot too, I felt so hollow after all of that. I felt so ashamed, and still feel ashamed too.
I am proud of being a former marine. I want more than anything to upgrade my discharge from a bad conduct to a medical/honorable discharge. I free falled after 9/11, and I don't blame the Marine Corps, I blame the post 8th & I Marine Barracks, and the terrible system where a young man crying for help, can't get the help they need, and become discarded like a broken tool. I still love the Corps, and would do it all over again if I had to. I believe the Military is many peoples only chance for a better life, and I was one of those people. I wanted to go to college, and learn how to take care of myself.
I am married now, to my high school/ family friend sweetheart, and have a beautiful daughter. If anybody in the central California area, near Santa Cruz, knows of any hot shot lawyers, or anybody who can help me upgrade this, I think my PTSD would become manageable. I have a medical Marijuana card right now, and if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't be able to have the normal life I have right now. I got it prescribed from a Doctor in Oakland, California, and I got it for PTSD and back pains. It seriously saved my life. The funny thing too is that in Israel their defense forces are allowed to be prescribed medical marijuana for PTSD, its totally reconized for its threupeutic benefits. I don't use it that much right now, and I am trying to make it only once a week to nothing right now. I wish I could tell the government that Marijuana was helping me back in D.C., and that I was probably just medicating myself without even knowing it. I don't drink alcohol at all, except for VERY special events, like new years, and only a beer or two at the most. I love my family more than anything, and after reading some of the letter posted by marine wives, I told my wife how much I love her. She's very supportive, and she understands that the pot is helping me right now. I am hoping that one day, with an upgrade, I can let alot of this go, and get on with my life, and be proud of being a marine, without having to always fear that someone will find out at work, etc. that I got a Bad conduct. I always tell people I have a medical for PTSD, because thats what it feels like it will become someday, maybe even an honorable, maybe when President Bush is gone. I was a good Marine, nobody can ever tell me I wasn't. I still talk to my old squad leader, Corporal Gregory Abdullah, and him and me both told each other that we love the other one, and our families. He keeps offering me a job with his brothers company, but I love home in California too much to move right now, and I told him maybe in the future someday, he lives in Arizona.
Well, I welcome and letter, or comments, I am hoping to make a few friends, hopefully too some fellow Devil Dogs. Please, if anybody knows a good lawyer or someone who has gone through this please let me know, much love to everyone, Happy Holidays, PEACE on earth, and Semper Fi, which means always faithful....Goodbye.
-Zachary-:smile:
I signed up as a 0311 infantryman, and while I was in bootcamp, a first sergeant from some place called "8th & I Marine Barracks, came looking for volunteers to go to Washington D.C.. I had gone there as a teenager, and I thought that it was a cool place. I thought it sounded like a real career oppurtunity. I became a Honorguardsman. I went from a metal/goth pot head, with inspirations, a infantry/honorguardsman, Semper Fi! I did full honor funerals at Arlington National Cemetery, Honor ceremonies at the Pentagon for foreign dignitaries, such as King Abdullah of Jordan, and many others I can't recall at the moment. I was in President Bush's first inauguration ceremony, Donald Rumfield's inauguration ceremony, saw Bob Doll twice too. Fifty percent of what I did though was funerals. I did so many, it had to be in the hundreds. One time I stood in front of a casket, and guarded the remains of a Marine who's remains had been recovered from the south Pacific Islands, in world war 2. The discipline was extreme, and fanatical. The silent drill platoon for the Marine Corps was stationed there too. I made it through my first year no problem. I mean, it was hard, I drank way too much, and I cried alot, but I made it through that first year, and my first parade season at the barracks and the Iwo Jima Memorial near Arlington Cemetery. I was soo happy, I felt better than I ever had. I had had a friend die that year, and my grandmother died in August of 2001. I was very close to her. It felt like she was watching me in D.C. after she died. Then 9/11 happened. All the first years like myself had to move into the city, and I roomed up with two other marines, and found a place in Crofton, Maryland. I was in the process of moving out with one of the other marines, named Paul Bushnell, we were on the road, I 95, when we heard about the first plane hitting one of the twin towers. My first thought was, "oh, it had to be a Cessna, or some sort of small plane." Then a second plane hit, and then the Pentagon was hit. I knew we were at war. We drove to our apt., and called home and let our parents know we were okay, since we both did stuff at the Pentagon sometimes. We drove back going ninety, and got back and people were chaotic. When we left everything was threat level Alpha, and like an hour later it was threat level Delta. This was the first time D.C. had been attacked since 1812, when the british invaded.
As soon as we got back, we found our sergeant, who was only glad to see us okay. We went downstairs to the Armory, and drew out M-16's with Bayonets, this was the first time ever that I ever saw my Bayonet. Our platoon's floor was on the fourth floor on A Co side. There was a B Company side, and a A Company side. Our side faced the Pentagon. I never had been able to make out the Pentagon before then, and the only way I could see it that day was because of the dark smoke pouring out of it, it was hellish. I will never forget that. I was only twenty years of age when this happened. I had been scheduled to go on leave on Sept. 14th, for my grandmothers funeral, and they actually went ahead and let me go home. The funny thing was, because of the attacks, I couldn't make it out of the airport until the 16th, so I missed my grandmothers funeral. I felt such a releaf to be alive, and it felt like Pearl Harbor had just happened all over again. I applied for my driver's license, since I lived about thirty minutes away from my station. I failed the first time. I was soo worried. I only had to more days left, and I needed my own car. One of my roommates was nuts, and had a loaded pistol in our apt. He's mental state had worsened after 9/11, and I was afraid of him. He was bigger than me, and had been my roommate before in the Barracks, his last name was Marin. I met Marin in School of Infantry, and I thought he was an okay guy. Being at the Barracks though, made him nuts. He would threaten to kill me if I didn't do everything he said most of the time. He was one rank higher than me, and Marines at 8th & I took rank seriously. He also kept a loaded pistol in our room, I didn't know that until we were moving out, and he showed it to me. I am surprised he never used it on me, because there were times I thought he would try to take me out. I no longer hate this guy anymore, I realise that the station we were at, and being stationed in South East D.C. could make one a little crazy. Marine Barracks 8th & I was built back in 1801, and is the oldest post in the marine corps. The Barracks is also one of the oldest buildings in D.C., because the british didn't burn it down with everything else back in 1812, when the invaded. South East D.C. is a ghetto now, and if it wasn't for the Barracks, it would be alot worse. I think D.C. has a murder rate of three a week. The barracks has some really bad hauntings too. I experienced several, and one of them another marine experienced it with me. It got to the point I slept with headphones on, because I couldn't sleep without having some background noise to calm me.
After 9/11, I got put on guard duty, and thats when I think my PTSD started full force. I guarded the A Company double glass doors, on the first floor. They had to move the regular security forces to in front of the Commandants house, so they took marchers and made them guards. I was qualified to use a M-16, saw, etc. but I was unarmed for the entire time guarding. The Marine I replaced had had a metal pole, and he passed it along to me. That was my only protection. I had my flak jacket, and kevlar(helmet) and web gear, but no weapon. The regular guards always had pistols and shotguns or visa versa. Anybody on the street could walk through my post, and it seemed like every night I was there a very Osama Bin Laden looking Arabic male would come through with a pizza to deliver. I thought one of those times one of them would just whip out an UZI and waste me right there and then. Nothing would have stopped them. This was all a mile and a half from the Nation Capitol Building. It was unbelievable.
When I purchased my car, I ended up moving out from Crofton, and that crazy guy Marin to my best friend to this day, Gregory Abdullahs home with his wife and child. Me and greg met in Bootcamp, he was my guidon. We also served in the same platoon in school of infantry, and at 8th and I in A company, First platoon, Ace's Wild. The Silent Drill platoon for the Marine Corps was the third platoon in that company. They lived in Oxen Hill, Maryland, which was only fifteen minutes away from the barracks. It had to be the first time I felt relaxed in the Marines, Greg and his wife and child were awsome. We went on a couple of trips all together, and had alot of fun.
So, when I got my car, I purchased it in Fairfax, Virginia. I bought it from a used Mazda dealership, and I made friends with all of the guys that worked there. I became good friends with the Manager, and I got invited to hang out at his place with his cool model wife. This guy was really cool. We would hangout in his barroom he made and just talk. I started smoking pot with him too. I was like turning on a light bulb in my head. I felt like I was relaxed and calm for the first time in a long time. I stopped drinking after that, and for a good reason too because I was becoming a drunk, and I have always been a bad drunk. I ended up popping on a piss test, and got sent to the brig for three weeks in Quantico, Virginia. There was so many drug offences happening at that time, that I didn't actually go to the brig until months after I got busted. I actually continued to do funerals, and other stuff just like before. Some guys even joked that I wouldn't get into any trouble at all. After I got out of the brig, I was back at the barracks for another week, then I got sent back home. One day in Washington D.C. after being there for a year and a half, next day back in Santa Cruz. It took me a few years before I felt normal again. I was so happy at first to be home, and to see my friends and family, that I was totally unprepared for the reception I would get. My "friends" from grade school tried to jump me, and pulled knives on me, eventual I had to fight one of them to make them leave me alone. I still don't talk to them to this day. I cried alot too, I felt so hollow after all of that. I felt so ashamed, and still feel ashamed too.
I am proud of being a former marine. I want more than anything to upgrade my discharge from a bad conduct to a medical/honorable discharge. I free falled after 9/11, and I don't blame the Marine Corps, I blame the post 8th & I Marine Barracks, and the terrible system where a young man crying for help, can't get the help they need, and become discarded like a broken tool. I still love the Corps, and would do it all over again if I had to. I believe the Military is many peoples only chance for a better life, and I was one of those people. I wanted to go to college, and learn how to take care of myself.
I am married now, to my high school/ family friend sweetheart, and have a beautiful daughter. If anybody in the central California area, near Santa Cruz, knows of any hot shot lawyers, or anybody who can help me upgrade this, I think my PTSD would become manageable. I have a medical Marijuana card right now, and if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't be able to have the normal life I have right now. I got it prescribed from a Doctor in Oakland, California, and I got it for PTSD and back pains. It seriously saved my life. The funny thing too is that in Israel their defense forces are allowed to be prescribed medical marijuana for PTSD, its totally reconized for its threupeutic benefits. I don't use it that much right now, and I am trying to make it only once a week to nothing right now. I wish I could tell the government that Marijuana was helping me back in D.C., and that I was probably just medicating myself without even knowing it. I don't drink alcohol at all, except for VERY special events, like new years, and only a beer or two at the most. I love my family more than anything, and after reading some of the letter posted by marine wives, I told my wife how much I love her. She's very supportive, and she understands that the pot is helping me right now. I am hoping that one day, with an upgrade, I can let alot of this go, and get on with my life, and be proud of being a marine, without having to always fear that someone will find out at work, etc. that I got a Bad conduct. I always tell people I have a medical for PTSD, because thats what it feels like it will become someday, maybe even an honorable, maybe when President Bush is gone. I was a good Marine, nobody can ever tell me I wasn't. I still talk to my old squad leader, Corporal Gregory Abdullah, and him and me both told each other that we love the other one, and our families. He keeps offering me a job with his brothers company, but I love home in California too much to move right now, and I told him maybe in the future someday, he lives in Arizona.
Well, I welcome and letter, or comments, I am hoping to make a few friends, hopefully too some fellow Devil Dogs. Please, if anybody knows a good lawyer or someone who has gone through this please let me know, much love to everyone, Happy Holidays, PEACE on earth, and Semper Fi, which means always faithful....Goodbye.
-Zachary-:smile: