You Better Watch Out, You Better Not Cry

So you’re a working mom and your husband is off at war. What weighs on your mind this Christmas?

For one thing, you’re waiting for your chance to have a crack at Afghanistan, or wherever the war on terrorism leads next.

Let’s hear it for the Marines.

Many years ago, I spent part of a winter crawling around in the dirt of this huge Marine training base, earning my first precious stripe. So for this Christmas, I’m back to offer the tip of my hat to those men and women who not only joined the Corps but married into it.

They’re Marines taking care of home duties while their husbands and wives are deployed in the war zone. But don’t get out your handkerchief; this turns out not to be a holiday tear-jerker.

Al Qaeda, meet your nightmare: Lara, a trained killer, a mother of two, and she’s itching for her chance to come looking for you.

Lara enlisted in the Marines because the Marines made leaders. And it made one out of her. A corporal, she was selected for officer training and now, at 30, is a first lieutenant. In August, Lara and the girls, ages 41/2 and 11/2, waved so long to Randy, who set sail on a routine deployment. It was their first separation.

A month later, Lara was at the rifle range when word of a plane crash at the World Trade Center echoed over the public address system. No one was sure what to make of the announcement.

When news of the second plane was piped across the rifle range, the Marines knew. As Lara recalls, the voice from the rifle-range speakers “reminded us that we were in the best possible place at a moment like this--working on a Marine’s basic skills.”

The Marines drill attitude into your soul. They have a few dozen fighting mottos that all say the same thing: To preserve America, some people have to be different.

On Sept. 11, we all held our breath. Lara, too. She stepped forward on the range and steadied her aim on the target.

Marines: the madness on the periphery that protects the sanity in the center; an old editor once told me that. Hey diddle-diddle, straight up the middle. Gung-ho.

This Christmas, Lara will be at home in Whittier with her family and the two girls. If our conversation is any guide, she will be gushing with tales of Randy, who works in S-2, intelligence, and has given terrorists no rest at all.

“I am very, very proud that my husband is over there,” she says. “I’m not going to try and make up for the fact that he’s gone. But we’ll make it special that Mommy is here. We have that to be thankful for. Because we could both be gone.” For just an instant, Lara’s eyes lose focus and I can almost follow her thoughts to the other side of the world. There are some things you don’t say to strangers, but in this case I think I know what they are.

She blinks and is back now, and she’s explaining that she has filled out her living will. She has a list of gear to draw. She’s told her superiors that she wants to be part of the rotation to war after Randy returns safely. And, no, she hasn’t talked to Randy about it yet.

“He’ll probably say, ‘Aw, so soon?’ But we’re Marines. He’ll understand.”

And I’ll bet he does. Anyway, that’s exactly what Ky tells me at my next stop. He’s a corporal from Burleson, Texas, stationed down the highway at Miramar with a Marine Corps aviation wing. He understands what it’s like to be here while his wife serves there.

On Sept. 11, Ky heard news of the terrorist attacks and then his phone rang. Tina was also on a routine deployment abroad. She had only a moment to talk. Her unit was moving out.

“She told me not to worry.”

Ky asked to be sent too. But husbands and wives cannot serve under the same command. So on Christmas, he will do his job for the Corps and then cook a turkey. It’s lonely in the apartment with only the pet rabbit, Babs, so three of his Marine buddies are coming over.

I look at his wedding band, so shiny new that it still catches the sun. Ky and Tina were married seven months ago. They have been apart for four.

“We’re both Marines. I’m really proud of her,” he beams. “She can take care of herself.”

To be honest about it, I had come back to Camp Pendleton wondering if I might tug a heartstring or two on behalf of men and women in uniform, separated by war on Christmas. I should have known better. These are Marines. They’re proud to do it.