Hey everyone the other day while (creepily?) facebooking lurking I came across this story posted by a vet on a USMC fan page. I've replaced the names of the people in the story as well as named locations in order to protect the privacy of the person whose story this is. I have never been a marine, and have no intention of becoming one, yet this story brings tears to your eyes.
My dad, Jack was in the hospital in City, State. A former Marine
and veteran of the Korean War, he was having his third knee replacement
surgery. A long and very painful operation was going to be made even
worse because dad was going through it alone. There was no one to hold
his hand, no familiar soft voices to reassure him. His wife was ill and
unable to accompany him or even visit during his weeklong stay. My
sisters and brother lived in California, and I lived even farther away,
in Indiana. There wasn't even anyone to drive him to the hospital, so he
had arrived that morning by cab.
The thought of my dad lying there alone was more than I could stand. But
what could I do from here?
I picked up the phone and called information for the (place has been removed because of privacy),
Marine Corps recruiting station, where I joined the Marines ten years
before. I thought that, if I could talk to a Marine and explain the
situation, maybe one of them would visit my dad.
I called the number. A man answered the phone and in a very confident
voice said, "United States Marines, Sergeant Doe. May I help you?"
Feeling just as certain, I replied, "Sergeant Doe, you may find this
request a little strange, but this is why I am calling." I proceeded to
tell him who I was and that my father was also a former Marine and 100
percent disabled from the Korean War. I explained that he was in the
hospital, alone, without anyone to visit and asked if Sergeant Doe
would please go and see him.
Without hesitation, he answered, "Absolutely."
Then I asked, "If I send flowers to the recruiting station, would you
deliver them to my dad when you go to the hospital?"
"Ma'am, I will be happy to take the flowers to your dad. I'll give you my
address. You send them, and I will make sure that he receives them," he
replied.
The next morning, I sent the flowers to Sergeant Doe's office just as we
had planned. I went to work and, that evening, I returned home and phoned
my dad to inquire about his surprise visitor.
If you have ever talked with a small child after that child has just seen
Santa Claus, you will understand the glee I heard in my dad's voice. "I
was just waking up when I thought I saw two Marines in their dress blue
uniforms standing at the foot of my bed," he told me excitedly. "I
thought I had died and gone to Heaven. But they were really there!"
I began to laugh, partly at his excitement, but also because he didn't
even mention his operation. He felt so honored; two Marines he had never
met took time out to visit an old Marine like him. He told me again and
again how sharp they looked and how all the nurses thought he was so
important.
"But how did you ever get them to do that"? he asked me.
"It was easy. We're all Marines, Dad, past and present. It's the bond."
After hanging up with my dad, I called Sergeant Doe to thank him for
visiting my dad. And to thank him for the extra things he did to make it
special: wearing his dress blue uniform, bringing another Marine along.
He even took a digital camera with him. He had pictures taken of the two
Marines with my dad right beside his bed. That evening, he emailed them
to me so I could see for myself that my dad was not alone and that he was
going to be okay.
As for the flowers, they hardly mattered, but I was glad for the
opportunity to express my feelings. The card read: "Daddy, I didn't want
just anyone bringing you flowers, so I sent the World's Finest.
My dad, Jack was in the hospital in City, State. A former Marine
and veteran of the Korean War, he was having his third knee replacement
surgery. A long and very painful operation was going to be made even
worse because dad was going through it alone. There was no one to hold
his hand, no familiar soft voices to reassure him. His wife was ill and
unable to accompany him or even visit during his weeklong stay. My
sisters and brother lived in California, and I lived even farther away,
in Indiana. There wasn't even anyone to drive him to the hospital, so he
had arrived that morning by cab.
The thought of my dad lying there alone was more than I could stand. But
what could I do from here?
I picked up the phone and called information for the (place has been removed because of privacy),
Marine Corps recruiting station, where I joined the Marines ten years
before. I thought that, if I could talk to a Marine and explain the
situation, maybe one of them would visit my dad.
I called the number. A man answered the phone and in a very confident
voice said, "United States Marines, Sergeant Doe. May I help you?"
Feeling just as certain, I replied, "Sergeant Doe, you may find this
request a little strange, but this is why I am calling." I proceeded to
tell him who I was and that my father was also a former Marine and 100
percent disabled from the Korean War. I explained that he was in the
hospital, alone, without anyone to visit and asked if Sergeant Doe
would please go and see him.
Without hesitation, he answered, "Absolutely."
Then I asked, "If I send flowers to the recruiting station, would you
deliver them to my dad when you go to the hospital?"
"Ma'am, I will be happy to take the flowers to your dad. I'll give you my
address. You send them, and I will make sure that he receives them," he
replied.
The next morning, I sent the flowers to Sergeant Doe's office just as we
had planned. I went to work and, that evening, I returned home and phoned
my dad to inquire about his surprise visitor.
If you have ever talked with a small child after that child has just seen
Santa Claus, you will understand the glee I heard in my dad's voice. "I
was just waking up when I thought I saw two Marines in their dress blue
uniforms standing at the foot of my bed," he told me excitedly. "I
thought I had died and gone to Heaven. But they were really there!"
I began to laugh, partly at his excitement, but also because he didn't
even mention his operation. He felt so honored; two Marines he had never
met took time out to visit an old Marine like him. He told me again and
again how sharp they looked and how all the nurses thought he was so
important.
"But how did you ever get them to do that"? he asked me.
"It was easy. We're all Marines, Dad, past and present. It's the bond."
After hanging up with my dad, I called Sergeant Doe to thank him for
visiting my dad. And to thank him for the extra things he did to make it
special: wearing his dress blue uniform, bringing another Marine along.
He even took a digital camera with him. He had pictures taken of the two
Marines with my dad right beside his bed. That evening, he emailed them
to me so I could see for myself that my dad was not alone and that he was
going to be okay.
As for the flowers, they hardly mattered, but I was glad for the
opportunity to express my feelings. The card read: "Daddy, I didn't want
just anyone bringing you flowers, so I sent the World's Finest.
