SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA AND THE PERSIAN GULF CRISIS : Marines’ Letters Tell of Boredom, Uncertainty

Hello, Darling: Sorry my letter and last couple phone calls have sounded so negative. Just my frame of mind. You know how moody I get . . . . Jean, you are my life, and the Corps is my life. It sounds contradictory, I know, but it isn’t. I’m a Marine and your husband. When you married me, you married the Corps. I know you realized that . . . .

Love, Walt.

The words Jeannie Baldwin’s husband wrote almost three months ago while steaming toward the Persian Gulf aboard the Okinawa have never meant more than during this holiday season.

“I cried all the way home,” Baldwin said, recalling the dark drive last week from her Anaheim office when she finally realized her new husband, Sgt. Walt Baldwin, wouldn’t be home for Christmas or New Year’s.

“For the last couple of years, I’ve always had him and his friends at my house,” she said. “Last year, I had five or six Marines decorating my Christmas tree. Monday, it finally hit me that Walt wasn’t going to be here this year, and his friends weren’t going to be here, either.”

This year, Jeannie didn’t bother to set up the tree, and it angers her when she sees the colorful lights decorating downtown San Clemente and hears Christmas music in the stores.

“For us, there aren’t a lot of lights,” she said. “There’s a whole lot of us who don’t feel that way about Christmas.”

Dearest Jean,

Hello again. The date? Well, that’s probably because I don’t really know which day it is . . . . It’s Saturday. I’ll check later. Not that it really matters. The only important day is the day I come home . . . .

I love you, Jean. Your letters are the only things that keep me sane. Keep them coming, love. Sometimes at night, when I can’t sleep, I wonder what you’re doing. Are you at work? At home? How you look while you’re sleeping. The way you felt in my arms. . . .

I miss you terribly, my love. I keep hoping for mail call so that I can hear from you. “

Walt and Jeannie, both 28, grew up together in Lafayette, Calif. “We were like brother and sister during those years,” she said. When Walt moved to Southern California four years ago to continue his Marine Corps career, Jeannie followed.

Only married since March, their separation began in June when Walt left his duty station at Camp Pendleton for what was to be a six-month overseas tour and a pre-Christmas return.

That was the plan until Saddam Hussein’s troops ran through Kuwait in early August and Walt’s unit was tapped while on duty in Hong Kong.

Since then, letters have been pouring into Jeannie’s San Clemente home and her office from her husband, his shipmates and other servicemen who long for any communication from home.

Jeannie and Walt won’t be exchanging Christmas gifts this year. Instead, they will be continuing to flood the mails with letters. Their separation has been chronicled in dozens of dispatches Jeannie keeps neatly bound in two heavy notebooks.

Jeannie,

I haven’t really been getting much mail of late, so after I finished work tonight, me and a friend stopped at the post office tent and grabbed a couple of service-member letters.

My name is Kyle Webster. I am . . . in the Air Force. Unlike some of my contemporaries, I am at a base that billets us in tents . . . . We have been here at our classified location since Aug. 10. Nobody knows when we’re going home. I tell people six months, meaning early February, but we all hope for X-mas.

Even though we aren’t on the front lines, we still don’t have too many facilities. Like I said, we live in tents, shower in tents, eat in tents . . . .

As for my job, I am a weapons load crew chief, and I am originally from Napa, Ca.

Again, thanks for the letter. It’s great to know that people we don’t know are supporting us.

Sincerely, Kyle Webster.

Other letters come from Walt’s friends who have shared the Gatorade, fruit cups, beef jerky, cookies and potato chips Jeannie has sent.

One of the men, Marine Sgt. M. D. (Phil) Phillips, has become a steady pen pal and their friendship grows with each letter she receives.

“Most of the men are single guys,” Jeannie said. “The married guys get a whole lot of attention. He (Walt) tells me when their birthdays are or when there is a promotion. Some of the guys I write I’ve known for years. Some I don’t know at all.

Hi, Jeannie,

How goes it? It goes well with me. It’s 6:30 a.m., and I’m standing in line for breakfast. Got your card 2 days ago, great. This is my second letter since then. I’m sorry, sometimes I lose track . . . .

Wally told me about how you sometimes go to Mass. If you ever get a prayer out for ‘ol Phil it’s appreciate f d. I’m not the most religious guy you’ll meet, but I do know that the man upstairs is controlling things. Well, I have to quit. It’s my turn to eat. I’ll continue later.

Your friend, Phil.

Hi Jeannie,

How goes it? It goes well with me . . . .

Been at sea more than 40 days. Once we get back from the field, we get TWO WHOLE BEERS for all our suffering. I don’t really care. I can take ‘em or leave ‘em. But there (are) guys on board hurting so bad, they would pay $10 to $20 for these beers. But I’m going to take my two and make at least one toast to a very special friend, Jeannie Baldwin . . . .

Walt still seems in good cheer, but I can tell he misses you bunches. So keep your hand on the pen and the pen on the paper, and let him know how ya’ doing . . . .

Your friend, Phil.

With her husband away, Jeannie, an office manager for an Anaheim construction company, fills her free hours visiting or talking on the telephone with other separated military spouses. She is a member of two support groups, one at Camp Pendleton and an Anaheim-based group that meets the first Sunday of every month.

“There are days when that is the only way I get through,” she said of her support group associations. “At least you know you’re not the only one.”

There are also days when routine chores open a floodgate of emotion.

“When I go to the gas station, I feel like if anybody says anything to me about the price of gas, I’ll go off on them. I’ll tell them about the price of my husband.”

Good Morning, Love,

How’s the light of my life, today? Things are the same here, day-in and day-out . . . . We were at condition 3 steaming for awhile -- guns manned. Now, we’re at 3A, which is guns up but not manned. So don’t worry your pretty little head . . . .

I don’t even know when I’m going to see you or for how long. The worst part is the waiting . . . . In some ways, I feel we are giving the Iraqis the military edge. Right now, they are fortifying their positions and that will make my job harder each day . . . .

If this draws on out, I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up with bases in Saudi Arabia, as we have in Korea. In the long run, it will be cheaper. How’s that for a duty station of choice. Spend time on the wonderful scenic sands of Saudi Arabia! I can see the travel brochures now.

Love, Walt.

Last week, Jeannie felt she had to vent the loneliness and anger she has been feeling this holiday season. She called a Los Angeles radio talk show and debated the use of a traditional greeting card wish: Peace on Earth.

“I have never called a radio talk show, but peace on earth is hard for us to understand. It’s hard to see all the celebration this time of year.”

Walt was supposed to be home last Thursday. They were expecting to celebrate their first Christmas as husband and wife. Instead, she received another letter.

Jean,

Are you tired of this? I am. We are looking at another three to six months. But this is my job, it’s what I do . . . .

I happen to believe we’re right to do what we’re doing. It’s not about oil. It’s about one man . . . thinking he can impose his will forceably on another country. That’s not right . . . .

The news says our president is losing support for this in both the Congress and with the American public. I hope not. I would hate to think that all these guys here doing our jobs are just going to be chastised like our people were after Vietnam . . . .

I don’t care what anyone (liberal or otherwise) says. A person who uses force, only understands force and thinks talk is a weakness or a delay.

I guess what I’m saying, Jean, this is my life. If it doesn’t agree with you and you don’t want to wait around wondering whether I’ll come back or when I’ll come back, I’ll understand . . . .

Oh, Jean. I love you so much and would like nothing better than to be in your arms. Just keep a candle burning to light my way home so I can find you after this long night is over . . . .

Love you, Walt.