One of the more pathetic episodes was when a commentator on CNN announced that Charlie wasn't actually the Marine who had been wounded, and that the Pentagon was faking the whole thing to make me look good and get a bigger budget. He had this on the basis of secret and classified reports that couldn't be actually shared, and eyewitness testimony from sailors, who couldn't give their names out of fear of reprisals. ABC and the Washington Post then commissioned a study using facial recognition software that analyzed video captures from the combat footage and compared it to pictures of Charlie, and proved it was him after all. CNN stopped pushing the theory, but refused to disavow their pundit.
It was the following Friday when the Tarawa was scheduled to dock in Norfolk. Marilyn had stayed with the fleet the entire way home, and I promised her that the girls and I would travel down to greet them. They were scheduled to dock at about 0900, and disembark not too long after that. Ari let the networks know and that was my schedule for the day.
Tom Ridge flew down with us. I was eagerly looking out the windows of Marine One as we flew over the gigantic naval base. It was the girls who saw the ship first, out their side of the helo, and I twisted to look at what they were pointing at. The Tarawa looked huge, but I knew that compared to the Lincoln and the other attack carriers she was a lot smaller. As we closed in and slowly dropped in for a landing, I realized that they had some sort of platform and podium set up down at one end of the deck, and that the deck was crowded with what looked like hundreds of sailors and Marines. I was dressed in relatively casual clothes, of slacks, sport shirt, and a sport coat, without a tie. The twins wanted to wear skirts, but I told them that they would be on a deck fifty feet up in the air, in a stiff breeze, and in front of a thousand guys. Maybe they wanted to reconsider? Molly said 'Yes!' and Holly said 'No!' and I ruled in favor of jeans and conservative tops.
We landed on the Tarawa in a small circle near the stern, and after the Sikorsky's engines started winding down, somebody with big earmuffs on and some kind of jumpsuit ran out and the door to Marine One opened. I unbuckled and stepped out and down, to be saluted by a petty officer of some sort. I returned the salute, and he yelled over the noise, "Welcome to the Tarawa, sir!"
"Thank you very much!", I yelled back. I waited a few seconds for the girls to un-ass the bird, and then we followed the petty officer away from the helo and towards the bow. There was a pathway cleared through the crowd, and I waved to the crowd, which was cheering wildly.
I had requested that most of the formal honors I could expect were to be dispensed with. If we were to be picky, I needed a band playing 'Hail to the Chief', a bunch of 'Ruffles and Flourishes', sideboys, a boatswain's mate piping me aboard, and God only knows what else. It was pretty ridiculous most of the time, especially for an informal visit to see some wounded Marines. During most of my troop and ship visits, I requested this stuff to be cut back. We worked our way forward, and as we got to where the platform was, I saw that there was a rope line set up to keep everybody back a few feet. On the platform were several Navy and Marine officers, and probably the shortest and bustiest Marine in the Corps. Marilyn was there in that silly outfit. Off to one side were several wheelchairs, and seats, and Charlie was there, but he was standing, a bit awkwardly, along with the others, several of whom were supporting each other.
For some reason that made me angry, that these wounded men were required to come to attention. I went over to them, and hugged Charlie and shook hands, but I said, "You should be sitting down!"
I must have said it sharper than I should, because Charlie answered, "Dad, if it was you, would you sit before the President?"
That took the wind out of me. My eyes popped open, and I responded, "No, of course not. Gentlemen, I meant no disrespect. Please, for my sake, have a seat. I'll talk to you all again in a few minutes." I nodded to my son, and then climbed to the platform, where the twins were already hugging their mother.
Marilyn I hugged tightly, lifting her off the platform, much to the cheers and laughter of the crowd. "I missed you!"
"Me too!"
I set her back down. I shook hands with everybody up there, and was quickly introduced, but thankfully I had been given a list of important names before we took off, and they all had name tags on. Then I was directed to the podium.
"Sailors and Marines of the Tarawa Expeditionary Strike Group, I wish to welcome you home, and to say to each and every one of you, Bravo Zulu!" Bravo Zulu was a two letter code group used by naval forces to mean 'Well Done!' "Your nation thanks you, and I thank you!"
The place erupted in wild cheering. I smiled and waited it out a bit, and when it quieted down some, I held out my hands for some calm. "All right, then, I have no intention to keep you long. I know a lot of you have family waiting for you, and I don't want to keep you away from them." With that, I praised them some more, commenting on the thousands of miles they had sailed, all that had been accomplished on their deployment, and thanked them for the lives they had saved in Liberia. I finished with, "You have made your nation proud, and you have made me proud! Thank you!"
There was more cheering. I was figuring to turn it over at that, but none of the officers were moving, and there were a lot of very suspicious grins. In fact, several of the Marines and sailors spoke up and seemed to be egging my wife on! "Go on, Mrs. B, you can do it!", was heard, and several of them were pointing to the podium. I stood there curious, especially when one very young looking Marine hopped up to the podium, knelt and did something with some wires, and then stood and handed something to my wife. He pointed towards the podium, and nodded, saying, "Go on, say it, just like we practiced!" He handed her something that looked like...
... a remote detonator! She took it from him gingerly, and then stepped up to me at the podium. She had to stand on tip-toes, but she sang out, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!", and then looked at the kid. He nodded and pointed, and she hit the button.
Suddenly, behind me, I heard a series of loud bangs! I whipped my head around and saw puffs of smoke on the side of the bridge, where a big steel panel was. I thought it was part of the ship, but it slowly tipped forward and it was hinged on the bottom. It fell open, banging into the ship loudly, and a string of fireworks went off inside. There, painted in bright white on the side of the bridge, was:
HEY DAD! THE MARINES ARE TOUGHER THAN PARATROOPERS!I just stood there in disbelief, my jaw dropped to the deck, completely flabbergasted! Around me the entire ship was rocking in laughter, and Marilyn was leading them. Behind me I heard my son crowing, "YES!"
Vaguely floating through my mind was that this was still a whole lot better than George Bush and his Mission Accomplished banner, but really! I just shook my head in defeat. This was going to be all over the news, and Marilyn came up and hugged me, even as she laughed at me. "Charlie's told me he's been wanting to do that for four years!", she said.