I can never say I was a lifer nor that I had tons of experience in the Marine Corps, but I was pretty good at picking up patterns. On my first deployment overseas, the first two months sucked. Marines were taken from their stateside lives and thrown into a squad bay with thirty other Marines whom they woke up to every morning. There was no disconnecting from your work life and relaxing when you got home. Home life was work life, and that was where the problem lay. So for the first two months, everyone had to adjust to this new way of life, and tempers had to settle down before it became a more relaxed atmosphere. The last month of the deployment was slightly difficult as well because everyone was itching to get home, and sometimes tempers flared back up and the atmosphere could become a bit tense. On that deployment, I thought this cycle had more to do with everyone being stuck on a ship than anything else. But lo and behold, the same held true for this deployment, although the adjustment times were slightly less.

There’s no particular date that I can pinpoint when the tense period ended, nor is there a particular event that occurred that made everyone transition from adjustment mode to brotherhood. Instead, several factors came into play that I believe made us become the brotherhood that I, and other Outlaws, called family.

*****

The event that began the bond, and one that we all wish we could take back, was the passing of Vincent and Wilfong. Up until that day in April, our company had never sustained any significant casualties, and when Vincent and Wilfong passed, it really hit home that we were in a war zone and that our fellow Marines were getting killed. Their passing felt as if a piece of our soul had been ripped out, never to return. But because of it, we began to grow stronger as a company. I noticed a difference in attitudes. It was as if everyone was getting along a bit better because you never knew if it was going to be the last time you saw that guy. You never want something as tragic as death to bring you closer, but it has a funny way of doing that.

*****

The day of the services for Vincent and Wilfong was another step in the direction of bonding. That day many people passed away, and their lives were honored during the ceremony. It was a very emotional day.

Shortly after the services, I headed back to the hooch. My platoon was scheduled for a patrol later that night and I needed some shut-eye, but a few Outlaws headed over to the chow hall on the other side of Camp Baharia. We shared the chow hall with the 2/1 Marines on Camp Baharia, so the makeshift chow hall was mainly packed with 2/1 Marines, and occasionally you could see a small group of Outlaws at their own table. Due to the recent deaths, tensions were high, and you could feel it in the air.

The Outlaws who went over to the chow hall for a bite to eat had just sat down to enjoy a meal. Corporal Tony Russell, an Outlaw TOW Gunner from Weapons Platoon, was just about to sit down when he overheard a few Marines from 2/1 talking about the recent deaths.

“It’s about time they finally had some of their own get killed,” one of the 2/1 Marines said.

 Big mistake. The last person you wanted to overhear those words being uttered was Russell. Russell was a big, muscular guy with a chip on his shoulder. He was a damn good Marine, but it seemed he was always ready for a fight, regardless of rank.  If you disrespected him or anyone he was close to, be prepared to fight, and when you did, you had to fight as if you may not see tomorrow because with Russell, you may not.

“What the fuck did you say?” Russell asked angrily as he turned around to face the Marine.  “Did I hear you just say you’re glad that one of my brothers passed away because that’s what I think I just fuckin’ heard.”

“Mind your own business,” the Marine responded.

“No, I’m not gonna mind my own damn business.  You just disrespected one of my brothers,” Russell said as he moved forward and got in the Marine’s face.

It seemed as if the situation was about to get heated so the guy’s buddies stood up to protect their comrade. Instantly, the Outlaws who were sitting at the table with Russell stood up. It was about to be an all-out brawl.

“Everyone calm the fuck down,” a staff sergeant from 2/1 said.  “Marine,” he said in Russell’s direction, “you got a problem?”

“Yeah Staff Sergeant,” Russell said, trying to calm down and collect himself.  “Your Marine there just said he was glad to hear a couple of our Marines were killed.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he said, you don’t come into my chow hall and try starting a fight with one of my guys.  You understand Marine?” the staff sergeant said.

“Aye, aye Staff Sergeant,” Russell sarcastically said.

Furious, Russell and the guys grabbed their chow and headed back to our side of the camp. The minute they got back to the hooches, you could hear Russell’s baritone voice calling out to all the other Outlaws to gather up and head over to the chow hall as one giant force. He was itching for one hell of a fight. He came into our portion of the hooch and explained what had just gone down, and we all got up, threw on our cammies, and were ready to follow him back.

Somehow, Gunny Rossignol and First Sergeant Sprague overheard the commotion and came over to investigate. Someone informed them of what had happened at the chow hall, and you could visibly see the anger on their face. However, as the company first sergeant and gunny, their responsibility was to ensure order and discipline. The last thing they needed was a conflict between fellow Marines when we all shared a common enemy right outside our walls. So Sprague, Rossignol, Russell, and a few other Marines headed over to 2/1's side of base to discuss the matter with their sergeant major.

Shortly thereafter, the situation was defused; however, there was a lasting impact among the Outlaws. When Russell and the other Outlaws who were over at the chow hall came back to gather us up, no one questioned him. It was as if we all understood the gravity of the situation, and it was our mission to protect the honor and integrity of our brothers, both fallen and alive. We became one mind, one unit instantaneously. It was truly a moment to remember and one that helped us to grow together not only as a company but as a family.

*****

In my opinion, the one factor that weighed the most in the Outlaws becoming so close was that we had a fantastic senior staff.

First Lieutenant Earlie Walker, a short guy with a thick Southern drawl, was the company executive officer. Typically, whenever Shepard would give him an order to relay to the company, Walker would interpret it and disseminate the important information to the company and leave out the bullshit. You wouldn’t know it from the looks of him, with a stern face and serious demeanor, but he had one hell of a good sense of humor. He treated us like men and was always there to back us when the situation warranted.

First Sergeant Michael Sprague, a brawny guy from West Virginia who came over from the Air Wing to lead our company, was inspiring. He was always the first to lead the way, and he did so with a level head. He, along with Walker, would sift through the bullshit that Shepard handed them and disseminate the useful information to the Marines. He also had a way with words. He wouldn’t be the first to admit it, but he really knew how to talk to the Marines. There were times when he would come out after Shepard had given a speech that he had copied from Lord of the Rings or Independence Day, and Sprague would follow up with a speech that would bring even the strongest men to tears. Sprague was like one of us. He interacted with nearly all of us on a daily basis. He would treat us all like his sons, always looking out for us and caring for our needs. He would get in on spades games and hang out in the hooch and watch movies with us. He was definitely the best company first sergeant a Marine could ask for.

And then there was Gunnery Sergeant Rossignol. Gunny was a medium-build guy who reminded me of the salty gunnies you see in the movies, a guy who looked as if he had gone to hell and back and brought back the devil’s pecker as proof. At one point in his career, he was a drill instructor, and you could hear it in his raspy voice, one that probably made quite a few recruits pee their pants back in the day. Yet behind that hard exterior was a truly good man. He treated everyone as equals, regardless of rank. He knew everyone’s name, knew a lot of their background, and would go out of his way to ensure they were taken care of. He always had your back, whether you did right or wrong, and would stick with you until the end. And he wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with anyone, even upper brass. Most importantly, he was like a father figure to a lot of us and a friend to everyone. There wasn’t a minute in the day that you didn’t see him out there helping with sandbags, playing video games, or getting his hands dirty with the other Marines. Gunny was someone you looked up to as a role model.

And last but not least, we had some excellent platoon leaders. There’s no way our company would have become so close knit if it weren’t for the likes of First Lieutenants David Snipes and Kevin Knox Nunnally and Second Lieutenants Ron Rowell and Bob May. Each was unique in his own way. Each had his own style of leadership. But they shared one common aspect, which was that they were truly good, inspiring leaders. They, like the rest of the senior staff, treated us like men, not as subordinates, and they spoke to us as such. They truly did care for our welfare and had our safety as their number-one priority. You really couldn’t have asked for better leadership.

I don’t know how it all happened to come together so well. It’s hard to find a First Sergeant like Sprague or a Gunny like Rossignol or a platoon leader like First Lieutenant Snipes, but to find a group of Marines in leadership such as these guys and to be able to have them all in the same company leading Marines into combat is a stroke of luck. I’m not trying to take away from the fine staff NCOs or remaining Marines in the company, but there is no way I tell this story with a different set of leaders in place. There is no way the bond we formed would have become so strong. There is no way I would so fondly remember my family, the Outlaws.