Marine casualty officer retrospective 2

MY FIRST NOTIFICATION

My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed:




Name, rank, and serial number.

Name, address, and phone number of next of kin.

Date of and limited details about the Marine�s death.

Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.

strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed.


The boy�s family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store / service station / Post Office.
I went in to ask directions.

Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up and addressed them by name, �Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper.�

I was stunned. My casualty�s next-of-kin�s name was John Cooper!

I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, �I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address)?

The father looked at me�I was in uniform�and then, shaking, bent at the waist, and vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor.

The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.

I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said, �Mister, I wouldn�t have your job for a million dollars.� I shook his hand and said; �Neither would I.�

I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there
all night, alone.

My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification.

THE FUNERALS

Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag.

When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, �All Marines share in your grief.� I had been instructed to say, �On behalf of a grateful nation.� I didn�t think the nation was grateful, so I didn�t say that.

Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn�t speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, �I�m so sorry you have this terrible job.� My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her.

ANOTHER NOTIFICATION

Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother�s house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming

I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen later, the father
came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.

The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly.

ANOTHER NOTIFICATION

One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, �You�ve got another one, Colonel.� I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call I have no idea why and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person�s address and place of employment.

The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman�s Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father�s schedule.

The Business Manager asked, �Is it his son?� I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, �Tom is at home today.� I said, �Don�t call him. I�ll take care of that.� The Business Manager said, �Aye, Aye Sir,� and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII.�

I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, �Is Mr. Smith home?� She smiled pleasantly and responded, �Yes, but he�s eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?� I said, �I�m sorry. It�s important, I need to see him now.�

She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, �Tom, it�s for you.�

A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, �Jesus Christ man, he�s only been there three weeks!�