There is no shame in crying. By Russell Vansteel

There was stillness in the air that made me think that the all-powerful wind was no match for the silence that blanketed the valley. It was a little past 1400 when the Battalion First Sergeant called attention to orders. Over two hundred well-trained Marines snapped to the position of attention in one smooth movement. Instead of the sound of many feet moving, you heard one mammoth foot pound the earth. The command, detail, forward march and we stepped off from our staging area in one swift movement. We were locked and cocked for the honor of paying tribute to our fallen brethren. We marched across the parade deck in the blazing heat of a Southern California summer. Detail, halt, echoed over the pavement and we stopped in front of a wooden box that used to house C-4 before it was put to the task of blowing things to smithereens. The command of left face was given and again, in unison, we all executed. The detail assembled was full of men who were savagely fighting their emotions. Four Marines were assigned to a box that represented their friend who unselfishly laid down his life for the country that we all love. Chris wrote the eulogy, Elisha was in the lead with the helmet, Adam had the rifle, and I had the boots and his tags. When the First Sergeant handed over the formation to the Battalion Commander, the ceremony began. Fourteen boxes waited to be transformed into a memorial that many will never forget. Fourteen Families that will never be whole again were waiting to hear their father, brother, son, cousin, nephew, uncle, husband or boyfriend's name. Fourteen sets of Marines waiting to do their part in honoring the brave. In alphabetical order, the final roll call was taken. After five Marines were mentioned, it was time for my crew to do our part. Corporal Tyler Fey's name rang out in my mind like a striking hammer in the forge of Hades. The burning pain was buried deep inside me as Adam inverted his rifle with the fixed bayonet and buried the blade in our box. The tears almost broke free, but I was more disciplined to let them as Eli placed the helmet on top of the butt stock. It was too late for me to lose it now. It was my turn to do my part. I stepped forward and placed the boots with the heels touching and toes at a forty-five degree angle in front of the rifle. Before I stepped back, I drew the dog tags from my pocket and hung them from the pistol grip of the rifle, completing the memorial. They continued on with the roll call of all the Marines who died during our deployment to Iraq. Once completed with roll, the eulogies began. In the same order as before, each took their turn reading what took hours, even days to write. Each speech sent the corresponding group of Marines to tears. Chris began his eloquent sayings with a choked sob and we all lost it. When you have to stand absolutely still, everything starts to bug you. An itch will appear on the side of your face, a sneeze will try to creep out, and a tear will stop in the worst spot. We were bawling our eyes out, like a newborn babe that just shit himself. Chris stopped talking a while ago and I realized that I had not heard a single word of it. My mind was off to memories of Tyler, the guys and me at the bar or beach or just still alive. Finally after a few other speeches were made about other Marines, I regained my composure. I was ready for a bottle of the strongest whiskey I could find when the last speech was concluded. The Battalion Commander ordered the rest of the battalion to execute a column of files. For those who don't know what that is, it's a fancy way to walk single file in front of something. In this case, that something was in front of the memorials. I got to see the tear streaked faces of everyone in my battalion as they looked down at Tyler's memorial. The men who passed by were boys when they ensured your freedom. They became men when they put their friend in the ground. We are now three and a half hours into the ceremony and I feel that I am out of tears. The good Lord has a neat way of telling you that you know nothing. After the whole battalion passed before me, I met Tyler's family. This was the single most emotional experience in my life. I could not tear my eyes from them. I would have done anything for these strangers if they had asked and all they wanted was a hug from one of Tyler's Marines. Can you believe that Mr. and Mrs. Fey thanked me for honoring their son? I wished that there were more that I could have done. The Battalion Commander turned the Formation back over to the First Sergeant and he dismissed us. From there we went to a little meet and greet with the families by the barracks. I had to leave early because I was losing my mind. The months that followed were dark and full of despair. I was on the edge of becoming an alcoholic, and did not care about much. I would go out and get blackout drunk every night. The one thing that saved me from going over the edge was the thought of Tyler looking down on me, while I wasted my life. Most times, when I drink, I cry when I think of him. He was my friend and continues to help me stumble through life after his own death. I will never wipe the tears that fall for one of the fallen. God bless you Tyler.