Behind Bulletproof Glass

MONDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2012 – 18:41 PST – TIGARD, OR

“Thank you for your service, you’re a hero – as long as you’re behind bulletproof glass!”

SOCIETIES ALIENATING BEHAVIOR AND OUTLOOK TOWARDS COMBAT VETERANS – QUOTE FROM A MILITARY WIFE

:: Friendly Conversation ::

Every so often I have a conversation or interaction with a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend, or even a close friend, family member, or significant other that really opens my eyes to a certain idea, feelings, outlook, or some element pertaining to me and my life that I may have been completely unaware of, or had not – previous to this interaction – understood in the same new light I do now, as a result of this interaction. These moments of enlightenment – or epiphanies – are important to the understanding of oneself and world.

Often times I find that if an event, or a moment in time is truly significant to me – thereby causing me to reevaluate it, constantly think about it and analyze it –  then I have to do something with that information to implement it in order for me to absorb its principles and continue with my day, and life. If I do not do this, it forever lingers in my  mind begging me to assimilate its message and learn.

Being a Marine, you can imagine that many of my peers or people I surround myself with or talk to have some type of military affiliation or relationship. One such person, Beth, has been a very close friend of mine for a number of recent years and has seen me grow, mature, deploy to Iraq, receive my honorable discharge from the Marines, date a handful of women, change jobs multiple times, and move across the ocean. Suffice it to say a significant amount of events in my life have occurred since her friendship with me was born.

Recently I had the opportunity to chat with her and talk about the depth of our friendship and appreciation for each other surrounding this turbulent time with the U.S. Presidential election soon, and all of the debates and heated discussions on Facebook and elsewhere. Her and I do not agree on which candidate should be elected president, and I had posted substantial statements of a very strong opinion on her postings and in reply to some of the people also commenting – we do not exactly see eye-to-eye on the same things. But non-the-less our respect for each other is true and sincere. I deeply respect this woman as a woman, an artist (gorgeous model, business owner, photographer and mother (to name only a few hats she wears in her life)!

In this conversation, after exchanging many compliments back and forth and ego stroking, she said the follow on Thursday, October 25, 2012 at 7:59 PST:

I have the deepest respect for your heart … knowing that whatever side of you shows at any given moment, perhaps even especially the badass side, it comes from deep within your primal urge to protect and to live with honor in a world that rarely rewards and often shits on such principles. Stay true to you and stick around.

I want to focus specifically on the part in which she states “…primal urge to protect and live with honor in a world that rarely rewards and often shits on such principles.” That is extremely profound to me to have a grown woman – a mother of two, who has never served in the U.S. Military but has spent much of her life in a marriage to a military member, in avid support of the U.S. Military and has moved from duty station to duty station for a number of years – acknowledge such an act and encourage myself (and there for all of us) to stay true to our honor code – regardless. Ultimately displaying her profound respect and admiration for myself, and people like me. She is not a turncoat supporter or friend, she herself acts with dignity, respect, and honor in her words and actions. These words from her mouth are truly admirable and worth more than gold to me.

I want to attempt to define some of what was implied by the words “rarely rewards and often shits on such principles”. I will attempt to be as thorough and journalistic in nature as possible in my writing, but your input and comments are as important to this topic as Beth’s was and is.

:: Four-inch bulletproof glass ::

This idea – or observation – is no stranger to me; the Marines I served with and myself each swore an Oath, gave up all of our rights, and therefore entered into an “agreement” with our government and Military knowing this, and we never forget it; but the hope that others (in our civil society) who are not of my military blood-line can see and understand the travesties and personal violations committed by our government/legal/social infrastructure against us (veterans) sure grows dim sometimes. Furthermore, this becomes a very lonely and isolated world when everyone you know, see, care about, and are around are NOT part of your “band of brothers”, but are normal civilians – normal civilians that often times treat me like I am a zoo exhibit – or an experiment – that is being studied and found to be unreliable and possibly volatile, safely stored behind four-inch bullet proof glass.

Behind this glass, children can approach me and say “Look Mommy, a Marine!” and feel safe, and gain education about me and my kind (veterans), but only from the (perceived) safety of this protective partition. 

My automatic mental response to this behavior when I see it? Simple. “Yeah, fuck you too.”

I want to make something very clear – I by no means want to globalize and say that all people “on the outside” act or somehow directly or indirectly behave like this. That is not true. I have met hundreds and hundreds, if not more – of everyday people “on the outside” who have acted with dignity and respect and not shown fear or reprisal when greeting me, talking with me, and interacting with me.

Granted, some of them are cowards and faker than a twinkie – but its the idea that is important.

:: “Oorah Marines. You are different, now.” ::

From the very beginning of my career in the United States Marine Corps, I have been reminded that once I earn the tittle of Marine, I will be different and distinguished from all others who have not earned this coveted, respected, and feared tittle. Oh, and boy would I earn it. Every single one of us earned it.

Hollywood and your friends have done a pretty good job of making sure our society understands Marines are the elite, they are badass, they are warriors, they are the “real bad mother-fuckers” out there (oh yes, I have heard these exact words a number of times).

Thats my point. “Out there”. When we are the “real bad mother-fuckers” RIGHT HERE, you think a bit differently.

That is to say our society tends to appreciate the “real bad mother-fuckers” from the comfort and safety of their TV screen through CNN, NBC, FOX NEWS, and whatever else. They like to see them in their movie theater screens, on their newspapers, in the air port in uniform on there way “out there”, or in some other fashion that is distanced from their everyday lives – their perceived protection from the wolves by separation and dislocation.

This form of posturing is vital to the survival and mission effectiveness of our military, specifically of the United States Marine Corps. Before I enlisted into the Marines, I had a friend of mine on active duty who told me that “Hajies think U.S. Marines had to kill their mother to become a Marine”. Yeah, that sounded crazy to me, too. Don’t worry.

Two-and-a-half years later, I am on the ground in Haditha, Iraq, in the Marine Corps, and I meet these very people. Hell no, I won’t tell them any differently. Things like this make them fear us, and that makes them too scared to fight us. But then again, these are people who have their own daughters raped and killed for mingeling with westerners just to prove a point to the rest of the family and neighborhood. Semper Fi.

Now, only the dumbest, most ignorant moron will consciously and willingly stand up and protest against us (Marines, any other Veteran) and say “FUCK YOU PIG”. No, those days ended with Vietnam. Kind of.

But they do pat you on your back as long as they perceive they are somehow inoculated or protected from the deep and complex dangers that you represent. 

When society feels it controls us, it has no problem patting us on the back and saying we are Hero’s, and whatever else. When society gets the idea that we are not controllable – well, that is when the true character of your beloved country shines bright, and slaps handcuffs on your ass and puts you behind REAL four-inch thick glass.

 :: Deadly Weapon ::

I was stationed on Marine Corps Base Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii. I spent many nights as a young LCpl and Cpl out in Waikiki. I have had my share of sunrise calls from fellow/junior Marines who are in trouble, drunk, at a girls apartment, lost, or otherwise unable to return to the safety of base, many, many times over. I have seen my share of bar fights, street fights, and more than enough Hawaiian locals telling me how badly they will kick my ass. I can count exactly no assaults in my history with civilians. I cannot possibly count how many times someone has puffed out their chest and tried to establish that their dick is bigger than mine and they’d kick a Marines ass – mine.

The answer: they are right. Because they aren’t worth the consequences I would face for returning the favor. So be it, I am fine with my dick size, I earned my title, I proved my actions, time and time again, and so did my brothers. I don’t need to talk about it or act macho. I am self-actualized, I am self-gratified. 

The Corps, my unit, other Marines, and my own judicial system have constantly reminded me that “Any Marine – regardless of race, age, creed, sex, capacity, job, or status – will be held accountable at a higher level in the United States Criminal Justice System.” Yes, that means we are treated and looked at differently from a legal and tactical (law enforcement) stand point than any other branch of the United States Military. 

Lets think about why that is – because we are the “real bad mother-fuckers”. The risk – of which I have no intention of thoroughly putting to the test – is that if I take one of those ignorant young kids up on his beef about who’s dick is bigger and rather or not he can kick a Marines ass, and I engage in a fight with him/them, and law enforcement becomes involved – I, being a Marine, may be charged with assault with a deadly weapon REGARDLESS of IF I HAVE A WEAPON OR NOT. My punishment will be more extreme then his, because I have a higher responsibility to uphold and respect due to my training and experiences in the Marine Corps and combat.

The last time I looked up how severe “assault with a deadly weapon” was, it was a felony carrying serious jail time, and is closely related to “aggravated assault” which means I have express intent not to “kick someones ass” but to “beat them to death“. This isn’t a joke, not something to be taken lightly and/or risked.

This is a form of attempting to control us.

I will not pretend to get caught up in rather or not I agree or disagree with this as it is irrelevant and to think that my approval or disapproval is relevant is a fantasy, at best. But I do understand this. I get it. I accept it. It will not change. This is part of the price I paid to become an United States Marine. 

Fear me, damn right. And as much as you fear me, don’t cross me. The Hajie’s were smart enough not to, I don’t know why you think you can?

:: Criminal Conviction ::

I was lucky enough to recently be convicted of one count of misdemeanor stalking in an adjacent county to my own, here at home in Oregon. As it turns out, its very easy to be guilty of criminal stalking in the state of Oregon as it is defined as “any more than one unwanted contact with an individual/s after being told further contact is unwanted.” (Recited by my $3,000 hired private criminal attorney).

Yes, that means I can send you a text message twice after you told me to “go away” and be guilty – legally speaking – of this crime. But that is not the point.

A long and turbulent intimate relationship with a woman that was from my area – who had been in the Marine Corps, but medically discharged – and has known me for four years (met while I was on active duty, in Hawaii) ended, and it did not end well. After all forms of contact were removed, I went to her residence three times. I never spoke to her, I never saw her, I never touched her, I never engaged in conflict with any of her friends or affiliates, never threatened, assaulted, touched, or inferred I would do so.

None-the-less, in the county court on my sentencing deposition (court proceeding), against the request of my attorney, against the mental evaluation by the court-appointed evaluator, and even against the prosecuting district attorney, I was convicted there in court, for 3 years of probation with 6 months of enhanced probation (I have to go back to the same court-appointed evaluator now acting as my “baby-sitter” for 6 months, longer if he so recommends), banned from entering bars/taverns, consuming alcohol, drugs, or transporting, possessing or using firearms or munitions for the duration of this 3 year period – of which, if I am found in violation I can receive up to the maximum penalty of not more than 1 year in jail, and not more than $6,500 in fines.

To put this into its proper perspective, the standard sentence for an individual with no criminal record and this misdemeanor charge was 18 months of bench probation, no baby sitter, non-convicted, with the same restrictions on bars, alcohol, drugs, and weapons. And once you have completed the 18 months of probation, and your a good boy, you do not get convicted, the entire thing goes away. This is referred to as “deferred sentencing.” THEY GIVE YOU A CHANCE.

The prosecuting district attorney recommended the same sentence but the maximum amount of time on probation 3 years (36 months). He simply doubled the probation time – but still allowed me to do the time, be a good boy, and not receive a criminal conviction on my record.

The presiding judge went above and beyond what the court-appointed evaluators recommendations were, what my attorney and what the DA proposed, and gave me a stiffer sentence specifically reciting the fact that I am a significant threat to both the victim and the court, due to my training, combat experience, and PTSD (bare in mind, I have not yet been diagnosed with PTSD by the VA, nor any doctors or officials affiliated with the court- the judge just made this assumption out of his ass).

There was no alcohol, drugs, weapons, violence, or threats involved in my case – and I have every single piece of court document, police report, and evidence pertaining to this conviction.

So I am a trained, combat experienced, twice-over veteran of the United States Marine Corps. A Veteran who has actively put his own life in grave danger on foreign soil while carrying an assault riffle, munitions, incendiary rounds and other weapons on my person everyday for 14 months of my life, with extensive combat and weapons training and handling, who has engaged a target in combat on two occasions with such weaponry, who has been engaged by the enemy in combat, and your fucking telling me I can’t have, use, or own weapons? 

Yeah, fuck you too. 

Well, if I pulled a weapon on my “victim”, or anyone else, or ever threatened them, assaulted them, or otherwise abused my experience, training, and strength, then so be it. But I didn’t, and that was proven to the court and police.

If I cannot be trusted to use my 2nd amendment rights, then who the hell can? 

Well yes, they are right, I am a threat. But I never did anything to threaten anyone. I understand their fear of losing control – Marines are mavericks, wolves, and in being so they are delicate to control and manipulate. And if you cross them, and have any amount of brains or motive for self-preservation, then you should fear them, and tread very carefully. 

But the master need not fear his dog if he has treated his dog the correct way. So when someone fears me, I automatically suspect them – because they have a guilty conscience enough to fear me.

The four-inch thick bulletproof glass, Ladies and Gents.

Keep fantasizing that it is enough. I don’t need a weapon to kill anyone, and I don’t need someone to tell me I am dangerous for me to already know that. Not anymore than I need to pull out my dick to see how big it is. These are actions of an adolescent and weak society. 

:: “They can shit and piss on me all they want, but don’t shit on my son!” ::

My father is 66 years old, and was drafted to Vietnam into the Army, and spent ten months, two days, and a handful of hours and minutes and seconds (that he can somehow, to this day, recant exactly – while still forgetting my name and calling my anyone of my brothers names). He returned home on a commercial flight to Edwards, AFB, literarily kissed the tar-mat, and then boarded a bus headed to the Oakland, CA Military Processing Center. It was here where every soldier was advised to imediately change out of uniform, purchased a new set of civilian clothes, and then went on with life. They were advised they would each be under a 72 hour Military Jurisdiction – ensuring that if any one got into trouble, they would be accountable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and not be handled by local law enforcement. They were also advised that if they are to travel anywhere alone, not to do so in any uniform.

Upon leaving the Oakland, CA Military Processing Center, they were greeted by a hippie mob protesting the war, soldiers, and calling them baby killers, murders, pigs, faggots, and a bunch of other nice things – while assaulting, pissing and shitting on returning veterans. Luckily, he never got into any real trouble.

My father, who has been battling with war-related PTSD for three-quarters of his life time, was in my deposition hearing – listening and watching as this judge convicted me, and sentenced me for being a significant threat – not a hero. The man (my father) cried multiple times as I stood at the table at parade-rest, looking sternly into the eyes of this fat slob of a civilian judge that is condemning my character and actions and affecting my life for years, who can’t even remember my name, let alone my case or what actions I had already taken before appearing, while I twice-over replied to his question of “If I had anything to say to myself?” with a stern “Negative, Sir.” The thoughts in my head was that I should punch my own teeth out for belittling and dishonoring the Marine Officers I had called sir by referring to this joke as “Sir”.

Today, my father and I went back to the court and sought to obtain the court transcript of that deposition hearing – during which we spoke with an older lady of my fathers same age who had been married to a Vietnam vet, and the conversation ensued for a half hour. On our way home – me driving my fathers CRV – my father cried like a little boy when I told him I know and understand how difficult the last year of his life has been on him, and how painful it was for him to sit there in court and watch as his baby boy, a Marine combat Veteran, was shit on by the very justice system we both fought to ensure existed. In fact, it may have been more painful and even worse than his own homecoming from Vietnam.

In his tears and choking he very clearly stated “They can shit and piss on me all they want, but don’t shit on my son!”. This was too much for him to bare mentally, and the results and implications of this have taken a toll on him and his behavior, resulting in situations and actions of a very serious nature and have caused many ripples and trials for my family recently.

This man, this Army Vietnam Veteran, grandfather of four baby girls, and father of four sons, my father, ex-husband, and fellow brother-in-arms has never been able to express himself, or talk about his life, his worries, troubles, and experiences in the Military like I, his youngest boy, have been able to. He has never been able to write a blog and write books about it, he has only been able to sit in a corner and feel isolated, misunderstood, alienated, and alone, and unable to communicate the depth and complexity of his character and soul, and watch as his perception of the world and society he was forced into risking his life for evolves around him, discarding him like yesterdays newspaper.

Our actions as a society have consequences, and they bear blood-shed and carnage. This carnage can be seen through the decades and generations of Warfighters in our country. The bastardization, misrepresentation, alienation and scornful criminality of our heroes that have some how given their controllers reason to fret and suspect instability and resilience to control will not end tomorrow, or the next day, it will not end while my father still has a heart beat, and it may not end while I have a heart beat. But it must end. And to THAT END, I am writing these words today.

While we take our Heros off of planes and congratulate them on still haveing a heart beat, hug them and kiss them and praise them for their heroic and selfless actions and sacrifices – we then watch them, and try to help them.

We also watch them, and hunt them. We identify the ones who pose a risk, rather real or perceived, and then we sabotage and dethrone them, psychologically violating them at each step down the stairwell to self-destruction and implosion. 

We concoct these facade-like social behavior and physiological chambers of four-inch bulletproof glass and we contain those of us who have broken, or somehow been deemed dangerous.

That glass will not stop me, it will not stop us – if you so deserve to be hunted. We must focus on awareness, education, and treatment for our veterans, not condemnation.

Semper Fi.

Kristan M. Blanchard
Corporal, USMC.