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Dear Sir,

This is the most
difficult letter

I've ever had to write.

However, I must be
true to the dictates
of my own conscience.

When I decided to become
a Marine at 34 years of age,

I was an easy sell.

The young Marine
who greeted me

insisted on going through
the sales pitch anyway,

so I consented to oblige.

I was disappointed
when he showed me a list

of common reasons
for wanting to join
the Marine Corps,

and found that
the list did not include

many of the reasons
I had for joining.

Here are the reasons
I gave.

They're more important
to me today

than when I first walked
into that office.

Number 1,

to support and defend

the constitution
of the United States

against all enemies
foreign and domestic.

Number 2,

to defend
defenseless people.

Number 3,

to promote and preserve
peace on Earth.

Number 4,

love of country.

There are others,
but those are
the ones that,

when the going
got tough in boot camp,

or later on in Iraq,

are to remind myself of
and continue on.

That may sound idealistic

and naively patriotic
to some,

but I was raised
in a time and place,

Alabama in the '60s
and '70s,

when the pursuit of liberty
and justice for all

was everywhere present
and apparent.

Plus, I was blessed
to be raised

by parents who taught me
the importance

of standing up for
what you believe in,

and that the love of God
and country are essential.

I do love my country--

more than I can say,

more than I will say.

It breaks my heart
to know that, to be true

to the reasons I joined
the Marine Corps
in the first place,

I must now leave
the military.

I'm a homosexual.

"Don't ask, don't tell"

simply doesn't work
for me anymore.

Make that out first?
Yes.

Is, uh--

Yeah.
That's nice.

Yes?
Yes.

Okay.

Got it?
Ready?

Ready.
Let's go.

The contrition
of a hungry child

is something
I do not want...

or need.

Tomorrow night
at 8:00 is probably

the most important show
I've ever done.

You know, my parents
will be together here
and watching it,

and my brother
and his fiancée
will be here.

This will be the first time
Dad's seen it.

I'm not down here
to change their politics

or change their religion
or any of that,

but, when I leave
this town,

they'll know, um,

that you don't have
to be a Republican
to be patriotic,

and you don't have to be
a Baptist to love God.

[knock on door]

[Man]
Jeff?
Yes.

We are at half hour,
please, sir.

Thank you.
Half hour.

Hi!
[Man]
Hi.

[phone rings]

Hello.
[Woman on phone]
Are you watching TV?

No, Mom. I'm sleeping.

Maybe you should be.

We going to war?

You may be, sweetheart.

I'll call you back.

11 September, 2001.

It was my Mom

who called to to tell me
about the terrorist attacks

from the classroom where
she taught social science

to eighth graders
back home in Alabama.

You know, your mom's voice
does something to you

that no other sound
on Earth can do.

I know that woman so well,

I could tell just
by the way she ignored
my initial irritation

that there was
something big going on.

In--In the exchange
of just a few syllables,

I could feel her concern
for me, her baby.

[chuckles]

And, at the same time,
her checking

to make sure that I,
the Marine,

would protect her.

[Woman]
I've always
been proud of Jeff.

I've always
been proud of Jeff.

I was only 19
when he was born,

and so we...

did a lot
of things together.

He uses the phrase,
"We grew up together."

Jeff came along
in our life,

and was a great blessing.

And I just told--
I was overjoyed

with the little rascal,
which always pleased me,

and he was such a delight.

And he was just
an amazing young--
young boy.

I even prayed to God,

and this was
a selfish prayer,

and maybe I shouldn't,

but, you know,
I asked God to bless us
with a little preacher.

And I remember calling
the radio station
in Jasper, WWWB,

and telling them
we had a little preacher
born last night.

I grew up, um--

It wasn't really
much of a town.

It was kind of a stop
on the railroad tracks,

ca-called, if you
can believe it, uh,
America Junction.

And we never locked
our doors.

Everybody sort of
looked out after
each other's kids.

And my family was there
on the hill with us.

My grandmother
was on one side.

My uncle and his wife
and sons

were on the other side.

It was a great place
to grow up, really.

There was a little church
called Hatt Church of Christ

where we went.

I really loved going there.

It, um...

I liked the way
the church smelled
when you walked in,

and so many people

there were people
who I loved,

and were great people.

So this was
the old church...

right here.

You see how this section--

I mean, it looks
like an old church.

My parents were married
right inside there.

In each one
of those classrooms--

Right there,
that middle one's
where I taught,

when I was a teenager,
and I taught the 2-
and 3-year-olds.

Man...

So, this is the house
where I grew up.

[chuckles]

That was my bedroom
on the front.

That's the porch swing

where Mama and I would sit
for every understorm.

When I was a little kid,

one of things I'd do
when I was out playing was,

I would take
the hymnal and the Bible

in, uh, the woods
behind our house.

I'd go out and sing
from the hymnal, and preach.

I think about it
as the place where
I first, like,

had conscious
contact with God.

When I was in Iraq,
or wherever I go,

I just picture myself

walking that little hill
right there.

And that way
I'm gonna be all right.

Nothing was more important
than service to God,

but it was running
a close second

about how very
important it is

to be part of the best
nation on Earth,

and what we have here,

and what responsibility
goes with that.

I mean, we would never
put a bite of food

in our mouth before
praying over it.

And when Dad did,
that's what they--

I mean, they would say,
you know,

"For those fighting
on foreign soil."

When I was in
the Cub Scouts

and I carried the flag,

it was right down
this street.

Man, they would--

you know the people would
just line these streets.

[Judy]
I was the den mother
for the Cub Scouts.

We had the Cub Scout
flag to carry,

and then the
United States flag.

And, of course,
being the mother,

I really wanted Jeff
to carry it,

but I wasn't gonna
be unfair to any
of the others,

so I put all their names
in a coffee can,
shook them up,

and pulled it out,
and Jeff was the one
that I drew.

[Jeff]
Man, I was so proud
to carry that flag

down the streets
in Parrish.

[Man]
Scripturally,
from the Bible,

the loyalty to country
is a part of Revelation.

And so, uh,
in the South,

uh, people take,
you know,

their--their faith
and their loyalty
to their country

very seriously.

Parrish was the kind
of place to grow up--

It was, you know,
a small town.

You know, in school with
the same 40 or 50 kids
all the way through

from first grade
to twelfth grade.

And everybody
knew everybody.

Jeff caught a lot
of criticism

from people in school
that, you know,

called him names,
called him sissy,

called him different things,
because he was more creative,

and, you know, he,
you know, he didn't
exactly fit

the mold that all the--

You know, there was
no football, no sports.

You know, and us being
in the band, that was a big--

for us, it was, you know,

brought in question
of--of your--

You know, people thought--

It wasn't always thought
so highly of as being, like,

the masculine thing
to be in the band.

When church
is such a issue,

and God loving you
is such an issue

for you growing up,

when all that
your whole life
is a conflict,

you know,
it's a very big thing.

It's a great burden.

I knew that there was
something different
about me.

And, I don't know,
just from growing up
around Jeff,

and wondering if any
of that sensitivity

might be a clue
of any kind,

kind of sought him out.

And I came out to him

one time sitting out
by his pool.

And that's how
we came to know

that each of us was gay.

That's
the field house there.

And when I was still--
You know I was, like,
10 years old,

and I caught
a glimpse of this guy

who was, like, butt naked,
about to get in the shower...

and my heart nearly stopped.

And I thought
he was so beautiful.

Then I knew, you know,
that wasn't what it was
supposed to be.

I wasn't supposed to,
you know, think that was
as cool as I did.

I guess, on some level,

I was trying
to beat it down.

As an early teenager,

you know, it was
so horrifying to me

that I might be that thing

that everybody
so clearly hates,

that I prayed to God,
"Please don't let this be."

You know, if--You know,
"Take this from me,

"and make me into,"
you know,

"somebody who likes girls

in the way I'm supposed
to like them."

And, you know, I might
as well have been a,
you know,

a black person
praying to be white.

He came from school,

and he came in,

and his dad and he
and I were sitting
in the living room,

and...

he just said,
"I'm gay."

And, for what
I remember,

we both just kind of
looked at him and...

well,
he had put in words
what we thought.

I think I had
probably read some

"how to tell your parents
you're a fag" little flyer.

And I sat between them
and held their hands,
and--and said,

"You know, there's something
that you need to know
about your son."

And--And I told them.

I haven't understood that.
Still don't.

That's still major
in my mind.

He's, uh...

There's something
apparently that's there,

and I'm trying to pick up
from TV and books and all

about that situation.

And--And, uh, I have some
strong convictions about it.

It really, uh--

is the way God
intended for it to be.

If God intended
for it to be that way,
it ought to be that way.

When I learned that Jeff,
uh, became gay,

or at least Jeff openly
talked about being gay,

uh, it concerned me
to the--

to the extent that--
And I felt that
it was wrong,

that it--
that lifestyle is,

you know, contrary
to what God teaches.

And, in my view,
it puts his soul
in jeopardy.

And, uh, because
I love Jeff,

I, uh--I'm concerned
about that,

and I pray about that
for him.

[Jeff]
Night, with ebon pinion

Brooded o'er the vale

All around was silent

Save the night winds'
wail

Those songs are seared
in my mind forever.

When Christ,
the man of sorrows

With tears and sweat
as blood

Prostrate in the garden

Raised his voice to God

I got my degree in theater,

and I came to California,

came to Hollywood
to be with the other freaks.

Me and this boy
from Mississippi,
Sonny, ended up

in a little guest house
in North Hollywood.

And we actually chose it
'cause there were goats
and chickens in the yard.

You know, it kind of--
I guess it was a little homey.

When he said
he was going
to California,

that just seemed
the natural step,

you know, the next--

the next step
in his life.

That's
where he should be.

[Smooch]
It was the dream he had had

most all of his life.

I thought it was
time for him to try it,

and I was all for it.

[Jeff]
Being gay in a place
like Los Angeles

is obviously different
than it was in Alabama.

People are celebrated here

for the things
that, you know,

we're ridiculed for
back in the normal
real world.

Jeff rolled into town,

and he came
straight to brunch.

And the guy that
he was gonna be
living with...

was sitting next to me.

And, um, Jeff popped
into the restaurant,

just literally, like,
blew in and popped in.

And he sat down
right in front of me
across the table.

And that's how I met him.

And, um, he was just
so full of light and energy,

and he was so skinny.
[chuckles]

He was so thin and happy,

and, um,
he was like a boy.

There's a guy tapping me
on the shoulder.

I turned around,
and there was Jeff.

You know, so I'm,
like, looking up at him,

and he said, uh...

He says, uh,
"You don't know this,

"but you're--
you're gonna be in my life.

I want you in my life,"
or something like that.

And I was, like,
"Uh, sure."

He had beautiful blue eyes.

I loved that accent.
He was intriguing.

He reminded me
of some of the people

that I'd known
when I was growing up.

The kind of person
that would call up
and say,

"I'm coming to pick you up.
We're going to the beach,"

at 9:00 at night.

And I love that.

[Jeff]
My life was about, sort of,
reclaiming the things

that I had not pursued,

or, for whatever reasons,
had felt fear about doing.

One of the things
that I had wanted to do

was to serve
in the military.

It was something
very noble to me.

Probably being gay
had something to do with it.

You know, maybe
it's gonna make me

into this man that
I'm supposed to be.

I called them, and I said,
"What's the age cutoff?

And they said, "28,"
and I was like--

He goes, "Why?
How old are you?"

And I said, "Well, I'm 34."

He said,
"Well, come in anyway."

I had to write this letter.

I walked in there
with the intention

I was going
to Marine Corps boot camp

if I had to, you know,

make up a new
birth certificate

to--to become 26 again.

Now,
that did surprise me.

If it had happened
10 years before,
it wouldn't.

But at the point
in his life
where he was--

And then I took
a step back,

and I thought,
Well, yeah.

Because Jeff
has always done
the unexpected.

I started telling
my friends, and, um...

I mean, different ones
reacted in different ways.

You know, uh...

Orlando comes to mind.

There's so many
political thoughts

that I have about that--

about, you know, uh,

if they don't want us,
hey, screw 'em.

We don't have to go.
Great. One benefit,
you know?

And, you know, I, uh...

And I just thought,
Why?

He needed
to explain it to me.

And I finally said,
"Jeff, I'm not
so much worried

"about an enemy
from a foreign shore.

"I'm worried about
the guy in the next rack

"who's gonna figure out
that you're gay

"and catch you alone
and bash your head in.

'Cause it's--It's--
It's an issue."

And he said, "Well,
you know, I think I can
take care of myself.

I don't think that's--
it's that big a deal."

[Jeff]
The recruiters
had told me,

"You know, because you're
an old fuck,

"and because you're tall,

"they're probably gonna try
to make you the guide.

"But nobody gets to be
the guide all the way through,

"so if you get fired,
don't, you know,

don't let it
get next to you."

I was determined
I was not--

I was not gonna get fired.

I was--I wanted
to be the guide.

Um, and so...

when we got through receiving
and we were sent to our--

our, uh, our platoon
that we would go through
boot camp with,

um, they put me up front,
and I was the guide.

For the first time
in a really long time,

for all the hell it is,

there wasn't an iota of me

that was depressed
in any way.

I think he was
about 32, 33.

And when he told me,
I was, like, "Man,
what are you doing?"

You know? "Why'd you join
the military now, man?

Something you should
have done 10 years ago."

And he said something
that has always stuck
with me.

I mean, in--in, like,
other aspects of my life,

I've remembered what he said.

He said, "You know,
it's never too late

to do the right thing."

That was a very
powerful statement.

I was, like,
"Yeah, that's heavy."

He was an awesome Marine,
because...

the ideals of what
the Marine Corps
has taught us,

um, he held true.

And he would always
look out for us.

It was just like
big brother

making sure we're
all dressed up right.

And he would be like,
"Look at you, Marine.

Let me square you away
for a moment."

And he would, like,
put us up in attention,

and he'd, like, check us out,
and he'd look around,

and be like,
"Okay, you're good to go."

Platoon, atten-hut!

[Jeff]
Boot camp ends
with the crucible,

which is about a three-day
intensive of the things

that you've learned
up to that point.

You go, you know,
without sleep
and little food.

I mean, you're real tired
and hungry at the end of it.

But you go up this, uh...

this mountain
they call the Grim Reaper.

And you're at the top,
and, uh--

and they play
I'm Proud To Be an American,

do a flyover,

and the drill instructor
comes with a cigar box

of eagle, globe, and anchors,

uh, the symbol
of being a Marine.

You know, it's not
on any of our uniform
or anything before.

He shook my hand.

He said,
"Congratulations, Marine."

First time I'd ever
been called Marine.

And, um, man...

It's--It's a great moment.

You know, only a few
proud people know what
that feels like.

And, uh--

I mean, it was one of the very,
very best moments of my life,

because, instead of
taking it out of the box,

he took it off of
his campaign cover,

and he gave me his eagle,
globe, and anchor.

Somewhere, when I'm 8
years old and I missed
the baseball,

and it, on some level
registered,

"Oh, my God, I did that
because I'm a little sissy,"

and when I became
a Marine,

I got what I had wanted.

You know, I mean,
I got what I wanted.

I got to be in the biggest,
baddest boys' club in the world.

Jeff, in the Marine Corps,

ended up being
the person that I--

you know, I thought
that he would be.

Oh, I was so proud.

I went to, uh--
went by myself
to his

Marine Corps
graduation.

He carried the flag
that day.

He carried the flag.

That's--Yeah,
I remember that.

Although the flag...

that was on the staff,
the United States flag,

was at half-staff,

because that's
when U.S.S. Cole
had been attacked.

And that was something
to think about, too,

because it was
"What are our children
facing now?"

All of a sudden, it just went

like those
little Matchbox toys

when you're a little kid.

It just went poof,
and the smoke went up.

We heard, like, a crack,

and then the building
just slid off diagonally.

Coming from
the World Trade Center,
it was just, like, chaos.

You saw people just
pouring down the street.

And, obviously, a lot
of sirens and ambulances
going the other direction.

[siren wailing]

[Jeff]
Am I going to war?

[Judy]
You may be, sweetheart.

9/11...
[sigh]

was a school day.

I had gone to
the teachers' work room

to go and get caught up
on some things,

and, in passing by
the office,

I noticed
that the secretary

and--and some others
were...

kind of gathering around
the TV monitor in there.

And they were showing
the video

of the planes
hitting the towers.

I just took
a few deep breaths,

and I walked
down the hall.

But I thought,

I've got to talk
to Jeff first.

[Jeff]
I really thought about
America as a place

that most people around
the world really loved.

You know, I felt
like I was part of
this beloved nation.

And, uh--And to see
that somebody
hated us that much

was, I mean,
was shocking to me.

I must have sat there
for hours,

transfixed by the TV,

paralyzed by what emotion
I'm not really sure.

As I watched the nation
I'm sworn to defend
under attack,

I knew that the events
that were unfolding
in front of me

were going to affect me
in a big way.

and that my life,
just as the lives
of millions of others,

was changed forever.

I knew I had
to do something.

I just didn't
know at the time
what I'd be doing.

So until I got that call
that I knew to expect,

all I could do was wait.

I went to New York,

and I wore my dress blues
to the site,

'cause I wanted
to be respectful.

And I walk, you know,
walk into this sea of--

like, they're all,
you know, dirty from
working on the site.

And they look--
you know, whipped
around and looked at--

"What's this Marine
doing in here?"

But a lot of them
came over to me,

and a lot of them
who were Marines,

who went on to be
cops and firemen,

you know, and, uh,

and they pumped
my hand, you know,

and, uh...

told me what unit
they were with or whatever.

Said, "Hey,
you gonna go do--

You're gonna do something
about this, right?"

And, um...

and then they took me
onto the site.

And I knew I was gonna
be part of whatever it was

that we were gonna do
to make sure

something like that
was not gonna happen again.

Over the next several months,

I prepared myself
for the inevitable,

all the while getting
angrier and angrier

at what had happened
to my beloved country.

My thoughts were
almost continuously
on my loved ones:

my friends in L.A.
who were like family to me,

my real family
back home in Alabama.

I came to believe
that somebody was
out to hurt them.

I can't really tell you
what that did to me.

So I ate good,

worked out harder,

smoked more.

I bought all these books
on the Taliban,

Islamic fundamentalism.

"Know your enemy,"
they always say.

And then the strangest
thing happened.

One night,
while I was asleep,

somebody switched the enemy.

Before September the 11th,

many in the world believed

that Saddam Hussein
could be contained.

But chemical agents,
lethal viruses,

and shadowy
terrorist networks

are not easily contained.

Imagine those 19 hijackers
with other weapons

and other plans,

this time armed
by Saddam Hussein.

It would take one vial,
one canister, one crate,

slipped into this country,
to bring a day of horror

like none
we have ever known.

We will do everything
in our power

to make sure that
that day never comes.

[applause]

You stopped hearing
about the al-Qaeda.

And the more and more--
I mean, you would hear...

uh, September 11
and Saddam Hussein

in the same sentence
over and over.

[Man on TV]
Saddam Hussein

is very much focused
on putting in place

a key missing piece

from his nuclear
weapons program,

the ability to produce
fissile material

Colin Powell
going in front of the UN

was a turning point for me.

After that day,
I was, like, you know,

"Okay, so maybe Saddam Hussein
did not send the pilots,

"but clearly
he's part of this whole

"kind of evil group

"that hates us so much
that September 11 happened.

"So it's kind of
all the same thing,

really, when you think
about it."

[George W. Bush]
I--I want you to know

that, um...

the mission you are on
is vital

to achieving peace...

and to protecting America.

One of my most solemn duties,

a duty that you
have joined me on,

is to protect
the American people.

...like my unit, 4th LAR,

was headed to Iraq.

There was no way in hell

I was gonna let my buddies
go into some shit

without me being there
doing my best to try to...

help protect them.

So suffice it to say that,

between all
the rationalizations
I gave myself

and everything
I heard on Fox News,

by the time Oscar Night
rolled around

and Michael Moore
took the stage,

all I saw was some fat guy
screaming that I was going
to a fictitious war.

I was packed for Iraq,

praying
for fictitious bullets.

In different ways,
and on different levels,

I had felt like the abused,

uh, weak, powerless,
defenseless person.

And now was
this opportunity to go

and just kick the shit
outta somebody who was...

being mean
to innocent people.

AIDS happened
in my lifetime.

I have buried a lot
of beautiful young men

before, you know,
what I would consider
their time.

To suddenly have to face war?
On top of AIDS?

And here's
a friend of mine

who is healthy
and young and vibrant,

who's choosing
to put himself
in harm's way

for something
that he believes in,

was really hard
for me to swallow.

There's a feeling
of powerlessness

when your friends is--
are doing something

that you think is
the wrong choice for them,

and you can't stop them,
and you can't change it.

And that's what
I was really angry about.

I was proud of him,
you know, uh,

for what he was doing,

um, because there's
so many millions,

you know, over here,
you know, just going
about their--

their own business
in their daily lives.

And, uh--
And then you've got the--

the select few
that are over there,

um, actually putting
their lives on the line

When I actually
got the call

that said,
"Hey, we're gonna
get deployed,"

I had a flashback,
an instant flashback,

to a--a moment
in boot camp,

this one moment where
our drill instructor

took his cover off
his hat, and, like,

wiped his face
and gave us a look
and said,

"You know, I never
thought I'd go to war."

And I was just, like,

I--I--I knew
what he was feeling

because I never
thought I'd go to war.

One thing I want you
to keep in mind is,

right now in Iraq
and all over the Middle East

there are
young men out there,
about our same age,

that--that are preparing
for a war, too.

[Man]
Our parents all knew
where they were

when Kennedy was--
was assassinated.

I'll remember where I was
when I learned about 9--

you know,
what happened
during 9/11.

And, um, I will
always remember,

you know, the days
leading up to somebody

that, uh--
that I had come
to know and love,

you know, was going
off to war.

I remember
when we went to his--

his, um, going away party--

we had a dinner party
for him--

and I didn't want to go.
I just didn't want to go.

I, uh--It's--You know--

And then, when I walked
in the restaurant,

and there he was
in his uniform,

you know,
he looked beautiful.

He looked like
the epitome of a Marine.

But I had absolutely
no desire

to walk through the,
you know, the door
of the restaurant,

'cause I--I didn't want
to say good-bye,

'cause I didn't know
if it was, um,

you know,
gonna be good-bye.

When you hold Jeff,

every part of your body
touches him,

and every part
of your soul
touches him.

And I just
remember standing
in his living room...

and holding him...

and not wanting
to let go.

[Judy]
One of
the hardest things

that's ever happened
to me in my life

is when my son
handed me his will...

and his power of attorney.

That was hard.

So, uh, I hope I live.

I probably will.

I'm too mean to die.
[Man]
You will.

I'll live.
I'll make sure of it.

Get that on tape.
Make sure.

I'll make sure
he'll come home.

That's a guarantee
right there from Vaughn.

[Estenzo]
We landed in Kuwait,
got out.

Immediately, a rush of hot,
humid air came in.

It, uh, immediately
caught my senses,

and I was, like, "Wow,

"we're in it.

"You know,
next thing you know,

"we're gonna pass
the line,

and we're really
gonna be in it."

You come out of this big,
giant belly of a ship,

and, uh, like, the--

just everything
just kind of opens up,

And you see

a foreign country,

kind of like a animal
just let out of a cage.

And you're just,
kind of, looking around...

adjusting to
your surroundings.

[Jeff]
We got to Kuwait City,
to this huge tent town,

where there had been,
you know, 100,000 troops
at one time.

And we're there at
this basically deserted
tent town,

uh, cleaning up
their trash.

And, um...

finally we cross
the line into Iraq.

[Magaña]
You get to this line
in the sand.

That's the border,

the difference between
Iraq and Kuwait.

And as soon
as you cross it,

you're in a whole
different world.

I mean, literally, within--

within two seconds
of crossing that line,

I saw little kids
with no shoes,

no food, you know,
literally, begging,

putting their hands out
and gesturing to their mouth,

you know, "Can you guys
give us some food?"

And it just--
It broke my heart.

I was like,
"Oh, my God."

And that, if anything,

solidified my belief
that we were there

to do the right thing.

[Jeff]
Little bitty kids
would come.

They would hear us coming,

and they would tear out
to the road

as fast as they could run,

hoping we would, um,
throw them out some food.

So, you know,
then I'm thinking,

Oh, you know, definitely,

it's a good thing
we are here.

Hi!
Hi!

The first place we stopped

made Parrish, Alabama,
look like a metropolis.

We just kinda sat out

on the hillside
that afternoon
with the kids,

and they were
very nice to us.

All the kids...

are so beautiful.

You know, they're--
they're just--

The kids are so beautiful.

If you look somebody
in the eye, no matter what,

you kinda get them.

And I took all
of these pictures

of the kids' eyes.

I kneeled in front
of seven Iraqi children

obediently seated
on a 2-foot wall

made of mud and shit
and straw,

pull a bottle of lotion
from my pack,

and gently smooth it
onto each grateful face,

massage each tiny hand.

Their hands looked
so small in mine.

Each child waits
eagerly but patiently

for me to finish
with the last,

this ritual they have
come to call magic.

Where they learned
the word I cannot know.

The volumes
of communication

that occurs between
our eyes is limitless.

The very term
"language barrier"
makes me laugh.

Eventually,
they all leave...

save one,

a boy of about 10

with eyes
the color of olives

with flecks
of blood-red and gold.

His eyes were as piercing
as a tiger's.

When he checks to make sure
his buddies have all gone,

he opens his mouth
to sing to me.

The beauty of his song

I would not insult
by trying to describe it.

All of the heads of state
with armies at their command

cannot wield the power
I found in that little
boy's song.

In a filthy, impoverished,
war-torn country,

I have found the very seed
of all that is beautiful

and perfect

and right.

[Magaña]
I mean, the smallest things,

like giving candy
to a little kid

or giving a man
a bottle of water,

like, um, the--
those tangible things

that you can really feel,

like, you're giving
somebody something,

you're putting a smile
on their face.

You know, those things
made me proud.

I really like that idea

that, not only are we
here to, you know,

chase down the bad guys
and the people

that are making
their lives miserable,

but it's also great
to help out the people.

Badrah, a tiny town
on the outskirts of Al Quds,

is where I met Mehadi,

a young boy with a happy,
if desperate, face.

He adopts me immediately.

"Mister! Mister!"

Mehadi is streetwise
for his age,

and works my sympathy
for every bit of food

and money he can
get out of me.

"Mister! Mister! Okay!"

Finally, I say,
"Hey, no more Mister.

I'm Jeff."

"Jeff! Okay!"

When he forgets
and calls me Mister,

I just look around
the crowd and say,

"Mister! Mister!"--

then shrug my shoulders

as if I can't find
this "Mister."

He laughs at my joke.

It's very important to me
that he makes the separation.

On the second day,
when we arrive in town,

I just hold my hand
4 or 5 feet
from the ground

and say,
"Mehadi? Mehadi?"

They understand, and soon
my small guide appears.

We spent the whole
afternoon together,

him dragging me
from one place to the next,

always surrounded
by hungry children.

This is his home,
and he's proud of it.

[Jeff]
Mehadi?
Mehadi.

And Mehadi's
brother, uh--
Ishtar.

Ishtar.
Ishtar.

Yes.

And we're here in--
Muhar?

This town?
[Ishtar]
Badrah.

[Boy]
Jeff!

What's your name?

[Jeff]
My name is Jeff.
What's your name?

Sirwan.

Sirwan?
Salaam aleichem.

Aleichem salaam.

Mister!
[speaking Arabic]

[Jeff repeats Arabic word]

Ah.
Boo!

[laughter]

[Jeff]
Check this out.

Look at it now.

What's it--
Now you see all.

[Kids]
Wow!
That's a better idea.

Jeff!
[Jeff]
Yes.

Jeff--
[speaking Arabic]

Yes.
Okay, I have to go.

I have to--
I have to go.

[Boy]
Mister! Mister!
[Jeff] Yes? You?

It's okay.
[Jeff]
Okay.

Jeff!

Suddenly,
we received the order,
and we have to leave.

Back inside the driver's
compartment of my vehicle,

crowds gather around.

With my column helmet
and my tinted goggles on,

I just pretend I can't hear
Mehadi there in the crowd.

"Jeff! Jeff!

Jeff!"

Eventually, I can't resist,

so I search the crowd
with my eyes.

He's there,
just below my hatch.

One of the other little kids
pokes fun at Mehadi

by pointing out
his tears to me.

So I just lift
my tinted goggles
so he can see my eyes.

So we receive the order,
and I drive away.

I don't even know
if I'd left

and I was on my way home,

or...

or where this--

but this Marine
came up and said,

"Hey, is your
first name Jeff?"

'Cause, you know,
you--

People only know
my last name.

And I said, "Yeah."
And he goes,

"There's this kid
in Badrah,

"and whenever Marines
go to town,

"he's got 'Jeff Key'
written on his arm.

And he comes up
and he, you know,
he points."

He was, um,
trying to find me.

I later found out
that his name means peace,

which is, uh,
a great little nod
from the universe.

[Magaña]
It's really hard.
You want to go over there,

and you want to help
these people

because you see them,
you know--

They're either asking
for food or water.

But at the same time,
you have to be standoffish

'cause you are--
you're in a--in a war zone,

and you're protecting
yourself.

So that was one--
one issue that, um,

we butted head with--
with a lot.

He was always like,
"Oh, yeah. Let me go
talk to this guy."

And I was like,
"Key, you can't do that."

You know, I would, like,
literally yell at him.

"Hey, get back over here."

And he'd get pissed.
He'd be like,

"Man, I'm just gonna
go talk to the guy."

"No. We're in Iraq.
You don't know this guy."

And he'd be like,
"Aw, Magaña, man,

you just--
you don't know."

Part of the rest
of the company
joined us today.

It's taking forever
for the whole company
to get here,

and part--part's
already marched north.

Man, when my buddy
Estenzo showed up,

I was up on top
of the vehicle.

And, man,
I was so happy to see him.

[Estenzo]
We found ourselves together

at this place
called Dogtown.

It was nicknamed that

because there were
so many dogs

all over the place.

We immediately left

to go and get some
materials and supplies
from another position.

[Jeff]
We rolled somewhere
for a part or something,

and a big dust storm
came up.

The sand storms over there
are incredible,

like, just, you know,
they can cut you.

It's--They'll be so quick
and come up so fast.

[Estenzo]
Two other Marines
that was with us were like,

"Screw this, man.
I'm going inside.
I'll see you guys later."

So they went
inside the vehicles
while we stayed out.

And we're like,
"Man, how can you go inside

and--and not experience
this crazy-ass sand storm?"

We were just, kind of,
like, screaming at that point.

We were, like,
just yelling, "Ooh Rah!"

and, "Woo-Hoo!"

And I was like...

"You wanna say something!"

And he was like,
"You can tell!"

And I was like, "Say it!

Say it!
Say what you wanna say!"

They knew that,
on some level, it was--

it had to be rough for me

to have to keep this secret,

you know, to never
just say something--

just to freakin' say it
out loud or whatever.

So he--he got it in his mind

that he wanted me to, like,
scream "I'm a fag" or, uh,

out there where nobody
could here it,

and just, like,
get it out or whatever.

[Estenzo]
He said that he was gay,

and it was just...

you know,
it was just something

that he whispered
into the wind,

and it took--
it took, you know--

it took--
it took a glide away.

And--And, uh, it went
to the rest of the world
from there.

And that's when you kind of,
like, realize that,

you know, there's only
so much you can do

before, you know,

finally revealing
one's true self.

So much is happening
for me,

spiritually
and emotionally,

that I just can't
pour it onto the page

or onto a camera
fast enough.

Takes me time to just
try to sort it out.

Just comes too fast.

I could continuously write

and still not
get it all down.

"Lance Corporal Key's
Summer Vacation.
This summer I--"

I felt like what
was happening to me
was profound.

It was just like the volume
was turned up on life.

Everything was
so incredibly real.

[Magaña]
He would crack us up.

Whenever we had time,
we'd be like,

"Hey, Key. What's up?
Can you read us something?"

Almost like a--
like a--like a story.

And he just, uh--
I remember he was writing

about, like,
how hot the day had been.

And one of the lines--
I think it was in his play.

He said, "Oh, it feels
like the devil, you know,

"crawled out of hell
and farted in my face.

It was so hot."
And I was like, "Oh, man."

It was--It was funny
because I can see it.

If the devil...

turned around, bent over,

spread his bright-red
ass cheeks,

and farted in my face,

it would take
my breath away,

because it would feel
so frigid cold

as compared to the way
I feel right now.

Woo-hoo! It is "fot"--
fuckin' hot. 127 degrees.

Inside my dirty little tent,
I rest my head

on what I believe was once
a white foam pillow.

I found it in the dumpster.

If this thing had
a pillow case on it,

I'd take it off and burn it.

If I saw you on
the sidewalk in L.A.,

I would cross the street
for fear of catching
something.

At least I would
call the CDC--

or the ASPCA.
I think I just saw
the motherfucker move.

Here it's one of
my few comforts.

Since I broke my headphones,

I've been borrowing
Corporal Magaña's
3-inch stereo speakers.

which is great,
because I still
have my music.

But it sucks,
because passersby

can hear what
I'm listening to.

How pathetic.
After all I've been through,

having to worry about
explaining the musical Rent

to those who don't
want to get it.

[Jeff]
What are you doing there,
trying to kill--

Dude, you have a rat
underneath your--dude.

I have a rat
under my tent?

A big-ass rat, dude.

There you go.
Smash it with that bitch.

Why don't you go and--
Well, for number 1,

why don't you shoo it
off into the desert
where it belongs?

Man, why don't you come and--

Get it!
[Jeff]
A big-ass rat.

I couldn't do it!
I couldn't do it!

[Men laughing]

[Jeff]
Don't kill it.

I couldn't do it, man.
He was right there!

We were like--aw, shit.

Don't kill him.

Don't kill him.
Shoo him in--

Shoo him into
the desert.

It's bad karma.
You'll be able
to see his ass.

It's bad karma.
He's innocent.

You serious?
There it is!

Right there.
He's right there.
Where?

[rat squeals]
[Men shout]

[Men cheering]

Oh, my God!
Blood and guts!
[Men laughing]

Holy shit!

Hey, put him over there!
Hey, no, no,
no, hey.

[men chattering]

The desert feels
awesome at night.

It's pretty here.

Clean.

The next day is a cool
and pleasant day,

and I put out my cigarette
on a box marked "Explosives"

and make my way to one
of the blue port-a-shitters

here at Tent City.

On the inside
of the port-a-shitter,

the writing on
the wall says that

"Corporal Ballard is gay
and will suck your cock
for free."

Somebody drew an arrow
to that entry and wrote,

"A nigger fucked your mom."

Nice.

A 3-D drawing of two towers.

"9/11. Remember
what they did."

"Hell is near, but if you
only ask, God will help."

"Fuck all white people.
Stupid crackers."

"Jesus died for my sins."

And...

"I am definitely
a homosexual."

I resist the urge
to add anything.

This is our freakin'
humble little home.

I always had to freak out
and hide the porn

'cause the first sergeant
came by.

The first sergeant would
probably like to see that.

Now I lost my position.

And this is
the softer stuff.

You know what--you know--
Well, never mind.

Hey, E.,

will you let me know
if you come across anything

that might be
of interest to me?

Man,
you'll be surprised.

There were Marines
that sensed he was gay

and tried to make
an issue out of it,

like "Oh, he's a fag,
he's a queer."

You know,
"He's nothing but a faggot,"

and I'm like,
"So what? Who cares?

He's gay, and he's a Marine.
Leave him alone."

So that was--
that was really hard

to deal with sometimes.

I stand atop my vehicle
in Badrah

with my weapon at the ready,

balancing friendly
with guarded.

We want the people to know
we're here to help,

but looking passive
is an invitation for trouble.

A man in his early 30s

passes on the opposite
side of the street.

He is fit and good-looking

in that brooding
Middle Eastern sort of way.

I follow him with my eyes.

So I'm watching my little
Iraqi soccer player

walk down the street,

and he looks back
in that way.

He smiled at my catching him,

In a couple of minutes,
he's made his way over.

Corporal Magaña's
come back,

and agrees
to watch the vehicle,

so I jump off the front,

and I go over to the Iraqi,

showing off my best cowboy
American Marine swagger.

Speak English. Dear God,
let him speak English.

I greet him in Arabic.

Salaam aleichem.

I must have an accent.
Something makes him laugh.

"Aleichem salaam."

"You speak English."
"A little."

Yes.

"I'm Jeff."

"Abbas. Nice to meet you."

We grip hands tight
and resist letting go

just long enough
so as not to get busted.

We make small talk
as much as possible,

and I begin to wonder if--

I don't know. I want more.

There's no way
we could do anything,

but I'm desperate for at least
a verbal acknowledgment

of what we both know.

He figures out how.

"You have wife?"

"No. No wife. You?"

"No wife."

Then those beautiful
brown eyes lit up.

You know, I'm a sucker
for brown eyes.

"Why?" he flirts,
and I just smile.

We're making out big-time
with our words:

Uh, "You're beautiful,"
he says quietly,

as his eyes dart around
to make sure no one hears.

"Yeah. You're beautiful, too."

You can see the electricity
in the air between us,

and my cammie bottoms are
getting tighter by the second.

I think he's having
the same problem.

"You have"--
and he pantomimes lip balm.

I reach in my pocket

and produce my dirty
half-used tube.

I got to tell you,

I don't think
I've ever seen anybody

put on lip balm
in a sexier way.

"What do you call"--
and he kisses the air.

"What, this?"

And I make
the kissing noise.

"Yes."

Uh, "Kiss.
We call it kiss."

"Kiss," he repeats,
and hands back the ChapStick.

"No, no, you keep it,"

and I hold up my hand,
refuse it.

"Kiss," he repeats,
and pushes it into my palm.

I'll be damned.

He's giving me a kiss.

I smooth the stuff
onto my own lips

as he watches,

and in that instant,

my anger at both our
stupid cultures' ignorance

and precluding us from
at least openly acknowledging

that which is natural to us

was diminished,

and all that shame
and anger

overcome by bliss and pride
in us, in our people,

and our everlasting
overcoming,

and our ability to love,
to show love,

no matter what,
no matter where.

We are everywhere.

We are love,

and we shall overcome.

[Magaña]
When, uh, President Bush

landed on the ship and said
"Mission Accomplished,"

we were, like,
on the border of Iran/Iraq,

providing security,

and I heard, you know,
"The war's over."

And I was like,
"The war's over?

What the hell
am I doing here?"

[Jeff]
They started talking about

"Marines, don't feel bad.

"An important part of this war

"is going to be
the incredible good things

"we're going to do
for the Iraqis.

"You know, Saddam is gone,

"but we're gonna--
there's gonna be

this unparalleled
humanitarian effort."

So we went
to the Iranian border.

I started looking around

for the humanitarian EMREs,
you know, to hand out.

They didn't come.

Um, uh...

I started--You know,

we started feel-stripping
our MREs,

and I was giving the kids,
you know, our M&Ms.

Mister!
Mister!

Mister!
Mister!
Mister!

100.

[Jeff]
I started to see

this shift of people

getting more and more
irritated

of us being there
longer and longer.

On both sides,
they're ready for us

to go the hell out of here.

"Okay, Saddam gone,
Saddam bad.

Good--America good.
Thank you. Go."

To watch the people

in the towns
where we went change

frightened me.

[Mike Karas]
In the southern Iraq,

a lot of people were
very supporting of Americans.

Uh, you know, "Ameriqui,
Ameriqui number 1,"

and, uh, they would
let you know,

like, they would yell
"Saddam!"

like, show you
their, you know,
the bottom of their soles.

Later on, when we
moved out of Babylon,

we went to a base
that's farther north.

People seemed to have gotten
a little less friendly

as we were driving
through towns,

like you would see
more of those,

you know,
thousand-mile stares.

This one kid
was running through,

and he was like, you know,
yelling and shaking his hands

like, oh,
happy to see us there,

and his dad actually,
like, grabbed him

by the back of the--
his shirt

and, like, pulled him back
and smacked him one,

you know, basically
telling him,

like, you know,
"What are you doing?"

and, uh, "Simmer down."

And, uh,
it was kind of amusing,

but at the same time,
we're like, "Well, that guy
doesn't like us."

We were used to that.

For the first
couple of months,

we were used
to people liking us,

and then we went to
people not liking us.

With regard to the locals,

some of the Marines
behave in ways

that make me proud
to be American.

No matter what the politics
that brought us here,

there's no doubt
in my mind,

their individual
convictions are noble.

To see 'em with the kids
just warms my heart.

Unfortunately, that's
not always the case.

I think some of them

have heard too many
stories of Vietnam,

and all the kids
were strapped with bombs,

or maybe they're
just disappointed

that we may have gotten here
too late to kill.

Heard some of them say so.

Some of this shit
I've heard

about the way those detainees
are getting treated

scares the shit out of me--

not for me, really,
but for the mission.

The young Iraqi fathers
are forced to stand by

as weapons are pointed
at their children.

If anybody even
walked in the room

with one of my nieces
with a loaded gun,

I'd lose my mind.
You fucking kidding me?

We're supposed to be here
fighting a war on terror.

We're recruiting terrorists
is what we're doing.

I heard one of the cruels

describing his interaction
with one of the small kids.

I'm all up on the vehicle.

Yeah, this kids like,

"Mister, gimme candy,
gimme candy."

I'm all holding
a Starburst, right?

So I go, "Say please,
motherfucker, say please."

Say please?

For a crumb from a table
overflowing?

Please for a piece of candy
the Marines are sick of

or a scrap of an MRE

had probably been trampled
underfoot or burned.

No wonder so many hate us.

I hate us.

If I can offset
this phenomenon

in just a small way

by being a mite overgenerous
or kind or respectful,

then the small sacrifices

of my being without my cushy
Hollywood luxuries for a while

is more than worth it.

The meagerest
Christmas or birthday

in the life
of the poorest Marine

would seem a cornucopia
to any of these kids.

The contrition
of a hungry child

is something
I do not want or need.

I started to watch the way

I saw some
of the service members

treat the Iraqis.

I started to hear
some of the Marines,

uh, and soldiers,
uh, talk about, you know,

the Iraqis as they were--

as if they were
not valuable...

somehow less than
in some whatever way.

Get down!

Get down!

Get on the ground!
Get down!

Hey, roof is clear.

What was so upsetting to me

about, you know,
seeing that
come from people

that were representing
the United States,

seeing that cruelty
or, you know,

in--in the long time
since I came back,

hearing other stories

of how people respond
in that way,

I--I guess it just--

the reason it
short-circuits me so much

is that it doesn't fit in

to my idea
about what a Marine is.

An Iraqi fort--
it can be 200 years old,

and no one can tell me.

I do not like it here.

I pray we won't sleep here,

but it's beginning
to look like we will.

The fort's
been secured for days,

so I strolled through

with my M16 and my camera.

All of a sudden,
I'm a fucking tourist.

I feel ridiculous
snapping photos,

but I can't not.

This place
turns my stomach.

As I stroll through
the holding cells

in the bowels
of the building,

there are grates in the floor
for the draining blood,

and I listen across time

the screams
of horror and anguish

from those once held
prisoner here.

With each blink,

the dark inside of my lids

offers flash visions
of the life once lived here,

the odd shots of boots,
uniforms,

black mustaches, berets,
skinny prisoners,

piss, food, a dog,
weapons, blood.

When I try to write of it
or speak of it,

I choke on the reality

forcing its way
out my throat.

My heart is shoving
it out sideways.

My God, I can't think

in the shadow
of that fucking fort.

Why can't we
leave this place?

Fuck! My pen
is having problems,

my camera's having problems.

I'm having problems.

I need to feel the joy.
It fuels me to go on.

My God, why have You
forsaken me?

It was there
just a moment ago.

Ah, my writing will save me.

Fuck it.

I want no more of this.

I've seen enough.

I want to go home.

Destiny then whispers
to me simply "Fuck no.

"There's yet more
for you here

before you're truly ready."

I'd give anything

if I could turn back
the hands of time.

To do what I wanted to do
by becoming a Marine.

My God.

I was sucked into some
romanticized idea

about what it was.
It was so wrong.

Look at this country.
It's, like, destroyed now.

I was dead asleep--

very poor choice of words.

"Hey, Key, get up.
We're rollin', dog."

Fuck. Every time, I--

the obligatory
complaining starts

before I'm even awake.

I start to pull on my boot.

"Hey, hurry up, devil dog."

I'm coming, I'm coming.

"Hey, devil, you know
Marenco over at Motor T?"

Yeah, what about him?

"He's dead, bro.

Grab your shit. We got
to get the vehicle."

To the family and friends

of Corporal
Douglas Marenco Reyes,

I did not think

this war could not get
any more real for me,

but now it has.

As I drove to the scene,

my first thoughts
were of you,

his loved ones
back in the States,

and of my own family
whom I love so much.

Man is not afforded
the opportunity

to choose the way and time
of his passing,

but if he was,

what nobler way
to enter the next life

than in service
to those he loves,

or to help those
he never met.

When I arrived at the scene,

the first thing I noticed
when I turned off my engine

was how peaceful it was.

The Marines had already
made a small cross

and placed it
at water's edge.

It had a sign
with his name on it,

and at the foot of the cross,

they'd placed some
of their personal items:

a little Bible
opened to the 23rd Psalm

and held there against
the wind with stones,

a--a headband
soaked with sweat.

I wrote a note

and had the Marine
traveling with me to sign it.

Our note said, "No greater
love hath mortal man

than to lay down his life
for a brother."

I knelt to pay my respects

and left our note there
with the other items.

The truck that Douglas
was driving

was carrying bottles
of water for the Marines.

They were now scattered
about the desert floor.

I bent over
and picked one of 'em up.

It was hot to the touch
from the blistering sun.

I looked back
over at the little cross

and realized
that the water was for me,

so I took off the cap,
toasted him,

then drank it all down.

Under my breath,
I thanked him:

Gracias por el aqua,
mi hermano.

Semper fi.

We had left Dogtown,

which had been our only place
what ever stayed still

since we got to Iraq,

and, uh, and had moved
to Al Hillah,

which is, uh, Babylon,

and, uh, it was a trip
to be there

on that place
that, you know,

that's where I'd heard
from church all my life.

You have Saddam's palace
up in the hill

that's like a recreation
of Nebuchadnezzar's palace,

way up on the hill,

and then
an amphitheatre there.

From the hilltop,

you could see
the ruins of Babylon.

When Baghdad fell,

and the word got out
the Saddam was, you know,

was--had been defeated,

they came and stripped

anything they could rip out,

like any pieces of marble
or anything anywhere they--

If they could get it
out of there, they had,

and it was--
the place was chaos.

[Karas]
The area we were getting
ready to set up at

had all these giant
cement benches,

and we wanted
to clear them out

so we can set up
our hooches.

And, I mean, those things
were enormous.

They were just so heavy.

It took, like, eight of us
to move one of them,

and at one point,

like, we're using
these pole--tent poles

to--to move 'em over,

and, uh, I guess Jeff,

uh, he took on a little
more than he could carry,

and, uh, he--
something snapped.

As we moved it, he was
feeling pains already,

so once
we dropped the bench,

he was starting to tell me
that, you know,

he's starting to feel
some pinch in his belly.

He's like, "Hey, what's
this thing poking out?"

and, uh,
he showed everybody,

and everybody had
a little poke at it.

It would stick out
through my abs,

that little piece
of my intestines,

but you could--
shit, you know,

you kind of roll it up

and shove it back
through the hole,

and it would be all right,

although, you know, it--
it would make your eyes water.

It hurt--you know,

it hurt bad enough
to make my eyes water.

And I think it was Costa

said, "Oh, yeah, my cousin
died from that,"

or some--you know,
somebody had said,

you know...that it could be
dangerous to have that.

And I got it checked out,

and I said, "Okay,
could I conceivably die

of something like this?"

He goes, "If your chow gets
stuck out on the outside,

"and you can't put
that piece of your intestine

back through,"

um, um...

"then you'll die.

"Your body will become toxic,
and you'll die,"

um, "and you should
get it sewn up.

You could probably
have it done in Germany,

but they'll probably
want to send you on home."

Going back,
and I packed my gear,

you know,

and I started saying
good-bye to these Marines,

and, uh...and, you know,
they put my--

they kept my weapon.

I hadn't been without
that piece of metal.

It had been attached
to my body all the time.

It was the freakiest thing
not to have, you know,

Judy in my hand.

I just felt like,
at each moment, regret.

I wish I hadn't done this,
I wish I hadn't done this.

You know, I felt like I
could have just said

"Oh, I was just kidding,"
you know.

I was thinking, How can I
get out of this?

You know, when the helicopter
lifts it up, and we left,

it was--it was like
this weird, long dream.

[Estenzo]
He didn't want to not
finish the mission.

I mean, he really gone--

he'd grown close
to these Iraqi people,

and he really liked them.

He liked their culture,
he liked their way of life,

and he thought
it was very precious.

There wasn't anyone
that I could trust

in terms of emotions
and talking about things,

and, uh, I was somewhat
depressed about it.

Stuff, you know,

maybe somebody else
wouldn't listen to,

you know,
you could always

kind of bitch to Jeff
about it,

and he would, uh,
you know,

he would have
something, uh...

some kind
of pick-me-up.

You can't turn around
and say, "Hey,

I'm just not feeling
good today, man."

"You know, I really
miss my girl,"

or
"I really miss my wife,"

or "I really miss my mom."

You couldn't do that

with any other Marine
other than Key,

and, uh, when he left,

it was just like
there was a big void,

like,
"Ah, Key's gone, man."

They loaded us
up on these planes,

on these little cargo net
benches down the side,

and then they started
bringing in these gurneys,

and they were--

They brought in
the first one,

and...and I thought, Wow,

something big
happened to this guy.

That's kind of--It was weird.

And another and another,

and they...

then they started, like,
hooking them together,

and they were four deep
on both sides

with people with very
serious war injuries.

And in that moment,
as they pull--

you know, continued
to fill this airplane

with people who were
being injured

to a growing resistance
to American occupation,

it was my first wake-up call

that the war
was not nearly as over

as I thought it was,

and the--you know, the--

the feeling of panic
that ran through me

because, you know,
then I really knew,

What if all my guys
get into this shit

and I'm freakin' on my way
to sunny America right now?

And, uh, I mean,
if I could have walked

back to Babylon
at that point,

I would have.

[Judy]
I thought in my naiveté

that everything
would be okay

once he got home.

But it wasn't.

It wasn't at all.

There was a sadness
in Jeff,

just a deep, deep
sadness.

His overall health
wasn't as good

as, uh, as it was
when he left,

and, uh,
that's physically,

and then just, uh,
I think mentally, um...

uh...war is just a...

you know, it's a--
it's a horrible thing.

[Jeff]
I drank coffee

and smoked cigarettes
almost continuously.

Um, and I would go--

I was not comfortable
in one place for very long.

I would go from...you know,

like, leave one coffee house
to go to another,

and, uh, and everybody
wanted to see me, you know,

that had--all my friends,

and then it was like, uh...

I didn't really...

I didn't really want
to talk about the war

and, you know, so that's
what people want to talk about

when you come back
freshly from one.

And, uh...I would go,
you know, to the internet

and try to find
news of Marines

from different points
in my Marine Corps career,

and just regret
that I had left.

When Jeff came back
and we met for coffee,

I remember walking
into the coffee shop,

and the first thing
I noticed is,

he's--he was thinner.

Uh...

and the sparkle was
different in his eye.

It was less,
and it was...sharper.

When people asked me
about the war,

I said, "well, the thing
that I did in Iraq was,

"I read my journals
to my fellow Marines,

"and if you want to know

"what it was like
for me there,

"I'll read
my journals to you.

I'll read you a couple of
entries from my journals."

It was very moving.

I mean, I remember,
like, all of us

sort of
sitting there

and, like,
trying to, like,

keep the tears back.

They're streaming
down his face.

But also
just so beautiful,

like what he saw,

and some
of the stories

that he was telling,

but also
there was a lot of,
like, heartbreak

in that story,

like his heart broke
in Iraq.

I was amazed
when I got back,

and they--and people
were going, "Oh, yeah.

There were no weapons."

You know,
we didn't know that.

I mean, to--my guys
were still over there
looking for 'em.

Saddam Hussein's regime
had to be a threat

to our national security.

That's the only reason
you should ever, uh, uh,

expend the lives of those

who have, uh, offered
to give them freely
for their nation.

For me to find out,
when I came back,

that this was common
knowledge, you know,

that there were no weapons,

and then we hadn't said,
"Well," you know,

"if not"--I mean, to hold
those people responsible

who had lied to us
in that moment

and get our troops
out of there

and help the Iraqis,

but, see,
it already had crumbled.

We had already not,
you know,

we were already
fueling the insurgency

by all the things--

by the way the war
was being orchestrated.

The more stories I heard

about service members

who were coming home
in such bad shape,

my commitment to them

for all
that they have given me,

separate, even, from the--
from what every Marine gets

by the privilege, the honor
of being called a Marine,

but what a smaller group
of men had given me

in the way
of their trust of me

and their willingness
to fight alongside me

and to be invested
in my well-being

and to be all the things
they were for me,

the idea that somebody
would squander their life

was so unacceptable to me,

I knew I had to do something.

I prayed for an answer,

and the answer came,
as it always does,
almost immediately,

and it was to tell the truth,

you know,
just to start talking

and...and tell my story.

Dear Sir,

This is the most
difficult letter

I've ever had to write.

However, I must be true

to the dictates
of my own conscience.

It breaks my heart
to know that, to be true

to the reasons I joined
the Marine Corps
in the first place,

I must now leave
the military.

He knew that they
were gonna ask him

to, you know, step out.

You know, he basically
told, you know,

the "Don't ask, don't tell,"
he told,

and--and I--
I loved him for that.

Jeff is more of a hero
to me right now

than he was
when he left.

To go back into the closet

and start the deception
all over again

almost 20 years later

seemed counter to all
that I believe is right.

However, an intense desire

to protect this nation
and our people

caused me to go along
with the policy

that seems archaic
to any thinking person,

just to be allowed to serve.

The fact that he is--

is, uh, willing
to take a bullet for you

is more important
than the fact

that he chooses to have
a relationship

with somebody
of the same sex.

Uh, out there, all that stuff
goes out the window:

I mean, color of skin,

you know,
size of your bank account,

sexual orientation.
It doesn't matter.

The fact that everybody
is looking out for one another

is the bottom line.

On the 6th of June
in the year 2000,

on the 56th anniversary
of D Day,

I stood in a room

full of recruits
young enough to be my sons,

and we raised our right hand

and took an oath
to defend this nation

with our very lives
if necessary.

I didn't take that oath
lightly.

[Estenzo]
He fits the persona

of what a Marine
should be,

and he made sure
that he did things

110% at all times,

and because of that,

a lot of people looked up
to him and admired him.

Here are the reasons
I gave.

They're more important
to me today

than when I first walked
into that office.

Number 1,

to support and defend

the constitution
of the United States

against all enemies
foreign and domestic.

There are others,
but those are
the ones that,

when the going
got tough in boot camp,

or later on in Iraq,

are to remind myself of
and continue on.

That may sound idealistic

and naively patriotic
to some...

...what I have to say.

If that's the way
it must be, so be it.

If I'm the last man standing,

I will fight for what is right
with all my strength

and until my last breath.

I'm a United States Marine.

I will die a Marine.

There are those who will
not call me brother,

now that they know
who I really am.

I'd still stand
between them and a bullet.

I love the Marine Corps.

I understand
that my unwillingness

to keep my sexuality a secret

will now necessitate
my separation from the Corps.

I'm greatly saddened
by this fact,

but at the same time
proud to be standing

true to those core values
so deeply ingrained:

honor, courage, commitment.

God bless 4th LAR.

God bless my Marine Corps,

and God bless America.

[playing Marine Hymn]

Hey, devil dog,
you're supposed to be
standing at attention.

Closed-Captioned By
J.R. Media Services, Inc.
Burbank, CA