FROM MY DESK: I received another article from Eddie Arechiga 3rd Sqd 11/51 - 9/52: "Shifty, you recently sent me a copy of a letter where a Marine spoke of the emotion he felt on his return from Iraq. It touched a chord in me and I reflected on my return from Korea in late 1952. I had already written about it in a manuscript I have been working on for my kids. I thought you might like to read it. I think you probably will identify with the event and the emotion. Eddie" Excerpt: "We were advised that tomorrow we would dock at Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay. We could go topside and watch as we sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge. I felt excitement well up inside me, but it subsided just as quickly. I found that I was unable to sustain any emotion, except depression, for very long. I don't remember the date of our arrival. I do remember getting my gear ready the night before and laying out my clean utilities. On the final day I made my way topside early in the morning. I was terribly disappointed, because even though I found a nice vantage point, all views were obscured because the fog was thick as pea soup. Visibility was zero; I couldn't even see the bow of the ship. Everyone was disappointed but no one left his or her selected spots. We stayed there and pissed and moaned, something we were all very good at. The ship kept sounding its horn and we kept anticipating an answer, none came. Finally we heard other horns and an occasional buoy bell. I saw |
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birds fly by, buzzing the ship. We had to be near. The fog began to thin out. I could see the whole ship now and then as if by magic we broke through the fog, as if breaking through a wall. We were in the bright sunshine, and no more than a half-mile in front of us was the Golden Gate Bridge! It loomed over us, it took our breath away, and tears welled in my eyes and streamed down my face. The emotion caught me completely off guard.
I was crying and making sounds of joy. I realized I was screaming at the top of my voice! Everyone was. Everyone had tears in their eyes. We were completely caught up in a raging storm of emotion. We began hugging each other and jumping up and down like little girls. "WE'RE HOME! Thank you God in heaven … we're home." Home, what a blessed word. The Golden Gate Bridge was one of the single most beautiful sights I had even seen in my life. I had seen it before, I had driven across it, but I had never seen it nor appreciated it as on this glorious August morning. It was so bright and strong, a symbol of everything we felt our country was. The vivid orange color was radiant. I saw little cars moving up there and spotted a few people waving. We waved back ecstatically. We sailed under the bridge very slowly and into San Francisco Bay. Angel Island was to port (left) and the much smaller Alcatraz to starboard (right). Farther into the bay and to starboard was Treasure Island; it was nestled almost under the Oakland Bay Bridge. That was our destination. |
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Memories flooded back. Treasure Island (TI) was where I delivered prisoners when stationed at Port Chicago. In fact Port Chicago was only 35 miles up San Francisco Bay around Davis Point and into Suisun Bay. We had a perfect view of the Presidio, Fisherman's Wharf, the Embarcadero and the streets rising up toward Knob Hill. San Francisco literally gleamed in the bright sunlight. We sailed around TI and docked. We were unprepared for what our eyes beheld. Color! Bright colors! For almost a year we had lived in a world totally devoid of color. Everything was Marine green, olive, gray, or dark brown. In Korea we had never been in a city or around civilians. Since our arrival in Korea everything had been the color of war. All drab. Our minds had become acclimated to the lack of color. Drab had become the norm.
We had not been conscious of the lack of color until the vivid rainbow of colors on the dock assaulted our eyes. The red, white and blue of the American flags and streamers were awesome but we were focused on the American women. The dock was packed with civilians come to greet their returning loved ones. The women wore red, blue, orange, and pink, green, purple; yellow … we were utterly fascinated by the beauty of so much color. The sight of the Western female form draped in such vivid color was a feast for our eyes. I was moved by the unbridled emotion exhibited by people dockside as they spotted their specific returning hero. They jumped up and down, screaming the names and crying unabashedly. On deck, the hero returned the wave and broke into girlish |
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Semper Fi |