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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