We met briefly at a book signing in Quantico a few weeks ago. My name is Captain Jason D. Grose and we talked about my son and daughter and the plight I might one day face if they decide to enter the military.

I read your second book (Faith Of Our Sons), ironically, during a recent 10 day trip to Parris Island. I am launching a new web-based computer system that tracks all training a Marine receives starting with recruit training. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book and found myself moved to tears as I imagined the feelings you described in your book. As a Marine, I saw what my own parents must have felt when I was deployed to the first go around in Iraq. As a father, I could imagine going through the same horror and discovered it would be much worse from that perspective.

You might or might not remember but I relayed a conversation I had with my wife when we discussed the possibility of our son and/or daughter joining one day. I told her she’d be a wreck for the boot camp three months and she never skipped a beat and said no, I’d be the wreck. Thinking about it, I realized she was right. I will be a blithering idiot.

Recently, I had occasion to talk to my mentor; the Sergeant who took me to the first Gulf War and kept his promise to bring me back. He is simply the best Marine I’ve ever known and even now, as a Captain of Marines with almost 17 years of enlisted and commissioned service, I cannot hold a candle to him and only hope to be a fraction of the Marine he was. I often call him for his professional and personal advice.

In 1990, we had arrived in Saudi Arabia and were living in tents. It had been a couple of months and had not called home until we got a chance to pile in a half-ton truck and travel for an hour to a liberty area where they had set up some phone banks. I called my wife and it was the most joyous time I experienced up to that point.

By the way, I’m envious of your descriptions of the phone calls you describe and respect that you obviously knew and appreciated the unique opportunity it was to talk to your son. I made 2 calls in 7 ½ months. The second one was Christmas when I waited 8 hours in line to make a 10 minute call. My wife was not available so I hung up, walked to the back of the line, laid out my sleeping bag, and proceeded to wait another 8 hours for another shot.

Back to the first phone call, we had finished up and everyone climbed back into the truck for the ride back to camp. I noticed Sgt. Maxey (my mentor) had a more severe than normal expression on his face so I asked him what was wrong. He told me that when it came time to talk to his 8-year-old son, his wife handed the boy the phone. The only thing that came through the line was inconsolable crying. Shane tried to talk to him but all he heard was the boy weeping. Finally, his wife took he phone and time was up.

It was at that point I knew I was blessed not to have any children. I missed my wife terribly and even my cats. But to be in a foreign land fighting a war and hearing your son crying is a pain I don’t know if I could have handled. Shane is hard as woodpecker lips and was a harder “hard Corps” Drill Instructor even by their standards, but even such a man has his limits. My heart broke when I saw the look in his eyes.

I tell you this story because there is an interesting twist. That little boy is graduating high school this year and has joined the National Guard. Unlike the Marines, when you join the National Guard, you know what unit you will be joining and Chris’s unit is slated to go to Iraq as soon as his boot camp is completed. That small boy who could only cry when talking to his Marine father at war is now himself on a path that takes him to fight.

Shane retired a year ago (he got out of the Marine Corps at 13 years, joined the National Guard and then active duty Army to finish out his career) and I recently had to talk him out of trying to get back in when he learned his son was going over. That’s just Shane being Shane.

The other story that illustrates who he is, if I may further bend your ear, was when we found out we were deploying. He invited the dozen men slated to go and their wives over to his house for dinner. We got to know each other and Shane took aside the wives to talk to them. He promised each one of them he’d bring their husbands back which was a bold promise considering all the unknowns at the time. But that he took personal responsibility for our return speaks volumes.

I took him aside and told him I had a problem. I had not contacted my mom and since everything was classified, I didn’t know what to tell her. We were leaving any day and I didn’t want to leave without letting her know. Shane never hesitated and told me what to tell her. He made me call from his phone (note that’s a long distance phone call on a Sergeant’s pay) and this is what I said:

“Mom, I have to go away on business and you know my business.”

As you can imagine, my Mom lost it and all I heard were cries of “My baby! My baby!!!” Never before nor since have had pain like what I felt at that moment. I had to practically hang up on her and then I called my brother (again, at Shane’s insistence). He had spent time in the Army so when I made the same statement to him, he said he understood, to be careful, and get my butt home in one piece. I then told him to call Mom and calm her down and say the things I was not allowed to say. He knew the deal and made the call.

I was able to call her later that night (yet once again running up Shane’s phone bill) and she was calm enough to talk to. I was eternally grateful that I was able to leave on that note.

So what’s the most special thing about this story? At the end of the night, we all held up a glass of champagne and toasted for our success and safety. It was at this moment that we learned something that Shane had withheld up to this point. That night just happened to be Shane’s wedding anniversary.

Iraq invaded on August 2nd. We found out we were leaving on August 8th. We were gone on August 12th. Shane had every right to have a quiet anniversary dinner with his bride and young family, especially considering he was leaving to war any day. But instead, he chose to invite a dozen Marines he hardly knew (he had just checked into the unit from being a Drill Instructor weeks before) to make promises to the wives and share the evening in brotherhood.

From reading your book, I see you understand this bond. Within the Corps, this is not an uncommon or deviant occurrence. Any Marine, including your son, will have similar stories and I appreciate you taking the time to read mine.

My time in the Corps is coming to an end in 2007 but just as one chapter closes, another begins. My son is 12 and it will not be long before he will have to make a decision. I feel strongly about letting him make his own decision and supporting him in any path he chooses. Part of your book hit home with me when you discussed the attitudes people have toward the military. They want to be protected but don’t want to “sacrifice” by putting any skin in the game.

I hope my son will choose to serve for a variety of reasons. I think it is his American duty and he will benefit from it personally. But as a father, I shutter at the thought of enduring what you did. I don’t think I would be as graceful as you and your wife were. I would know too much of the dangers and possibilities. I love my son as much as our political leadership loves theirs and I wholeheartedly agree that policies would be radically different if their children were one of the pawns they moved around on maps.

OK, I’ve rambled enough but I will point out that at the book signing, you asked me to email you <grin>. I run a webpage that I started a decade ago by putting up boot camp stories. It has since evolved and I became a sort of “Dear Abby” for Marines, poolees, parents, friends, and many others who write to ask advice about the Corps. I spend hours answering email every day and have tried to keep the information fresh on my webpage. I recently made a couple of trips to Parris Island and posted some pictures and stories that have received a lot of attention. It seems there are very few behind-the-scenes pictures of boot camp so mine became very popular. Please take a look when you have time (www.grose.us)

I’m also a budding writer and have been published in newspapers, magazines, websites, and even have a couple of my Gulf War stories published in a book. I keep a blog online and I’m motivated to keep it going since I get inundated with emails whenever I fall behind (like I am now due to my 10 day trip). It seems people are interested in reading the everyday thoughts, rants, and ramblings of a Marine Corps Officer because it gives them a peek about the day-to-day existence of a Marine. I do it to stay sane. Free therapy.

For years I’ve been given advice to write a book of my own and recently, I received an offer from an author who wants to help me by hooking me in with his publisher, editor, and distributor. I always felt I was writing the basis of a book by writing my stories and posting them on my webpage but never knew how to take it a step further. Unfortunately for my publishing desires, I have a full time job and find that the remains of the day are taken up by email, web page maintenance, and most importantly, family time (your book resulted in a higher occurrence of hugs for my kids at random times).

When I finish making excuses, I’ll move forward on the book(s). I still haven’t decided what I will do when I retire. With a background in avionics, administration, 10 years enlisted service, 10 years commissioned service, a BA in Technical Communication, a Master’s in IT, and experience in working with an IT system for the Marine Corps, I’m not sure what path I want to take but of all the titles I’ve earned, “author” has always been a dream of mine.

Again, thank you for your superb writing. Your book made me smile, weep, cheer, and swell with pride and that’s all an author can ever hope to accomplish. I’ve trained all my adult life to be a good Marine but your book showed me how to be a better father.