November 11, 2006

To Honor My Hero

I have lived for extended periods of time in a number of countries around the world. In each new place of residence my family would register with the local American embassy soon after our arrival, in order to ensure our safety and connection to the homeland. Another practice which began early in our lives, was that of memorizing the local embassy’s telephone number and address. My photographic memory also helped in that I always had a visual map in my head of where we were and where the embassy was located and how we could quickly get there.

It's never been easy living in some of these countries, especially given the basic cultural and political differences. I had been living in Chile for only a few weeks when the brutal Pinochet took control over the government through a bloody coup de etat. It was a place where fear reigned everywhere, even inside your home. Walking on my way to school one morning I saw the government security squads, known as the Caravans of Death, arrive in their black jeeps. They had begun to break down the doors randomly into peoples homes. A friend of my father’s who worked at the embassy had instructed the American families that were members of my father's church on what to do in the event we were ever caught in one of Pinochet's dragnets. My father took it one step further by having us all wear a single dog tag imprinted with our personal information that would enable American authorities to help us should we ever get separated or lost our parents.

That morning I found myself walking alone in the streets of Santiago not sure of what to do. Knowing about the increased numbers of 'desaparicidos' [disappeared individuals] I knew I was not safe. So I kept walking to school as if nothing, ignoring the screams and the chaos that continued behind me, all the while praying that I would get to school safely. Everyone knew that to stand and watch or become involved in any way was dangerous, so I continued on. As I rounded the corner I saw more jeeps in front of my school. I slowly turned on my heels and trying not to attract any attention, increased my walking speed and headed straight for the embassy compound.

At a distance, I heard someone calling out "Oye chica" [Hey girl], I didn't turn to look and pretended not to hear. I just kept walking quickly to the compound. "Oye tu, en el uniforme de Sta Rosa, PARA!" [Hey you, in the St. Rose school uniform, STOP!] At that point I was less than a block from the embassy. Knowing the fate of other young girls that had been stopped by the squads and survived, I knew I had no choice but to keep going. So I did what any scared young girl would do in my circumstances, I ran.

When I got to the gate I banged on the door like mad and a young marine slid back a small portal to talk to me. I yelled out to him "I'm an American Citizen, my social security number is .... and those men are trying to take me." Just as the jeep pulled in front of the gate, the marine opened the door and pulled me inside. Once inside, I was pushed further back behind 2 other Marines who were standing behind the first Marine now blocking the door. Everyone around the world knows that American embassies are safe zones and no one can enter them without permission or provoking an international incident.

The first Marine stood at the gate not letting any of the Chilean security officers pass. Changing their tone and demeanor one of the Chilean men suggested that if I could just step outside so they could ask me a few questions they would then be on their way in no time. I heard the Marine at the gate say with a heavy American accent: “Nadie va a entrar y nadie va a salir” [No one is coming in and no one is stepping outside.] As I tried to peak from behind one of the Marines in front of me to see what was going on, he extended his hand and gently nudged me back behind him.

From where I was standing I could feel the no nonsense intensity of the Marine at the door. The thugs tried all sorts of tactics to either get me to go outside or to gain entrance to the embassy, all of which was quickly and firmly turned down. After a few minutes of silence in which the men must have exchanged steal-eyed stares, the 2 thugs then cursed the Marine and his mother and challenged him to meet him later on in an ally nearby using lots of macho rhetoric, ultimately threatening to kill him if they ever crossed paths again. The Marine didn’t even flinch. Realizing they were never going to make headway in this situation the thugs slowly returned to their jeep and took off.

As the Marine closed and locked the gate door, relief began to settle in. They all turned to me and the Marine at the gate asked if I was okay. It was only then that I began to cry. One of the Marines put their hand on my shoulder, while the first Marine moved towards me and squatted down in front of me, handkerchief in hand. While wiping my tears away he reassured me I was safe and nothing would happen to me. He then said “I promise” with such strength and conviction that I felt it to be true to my core. Suddenly all my fear, panic, and relief rose to the surface all at once and were finally released in a flood of tears. In that instant I rushed to put my arms around my hero not only for saving me, but for finally making me feel safe after many months of living in intense fear. He was a kind young man and had such a gentle manner about him that I calmed down soon enough. When I finally composed myself he led me inside by the hand and waited with me while the embassy staff pulled my records and decided how best to get me home.

Later that day, before I was driven home by my dad’s friend who worked as an embassy staffer, I asked if I could thank the Marine who saved my life. I was told that it had been his last day of duty at the embassy and he was returning stateside. I never got to thank that Marine, so I will just have to thank all the men and women who serve in the military to safeguard our country and all its citizens around the world. Thank you for keeping us all safe at great costs and sacrifice to yourselves.

Posted by Michele at November 11, 2006 11:08 AM | TrackBack
Comments

Wow. That shows how much our Military really means to us. Thank you for sharing.

Posted by: vw bug at November 11, 2006 04:09 PM

Wow. What an amazing story. Thank you so much for sharing it with us... God bless the Marines.

Posted by: Richmond at November 11, 2006 09:41 PM

Brilliant. Why do I think sharing a coffee (or two) with you would be an amazing experience?

Posted by: Sgt Hook at November 12, 2006 09:21 AM

wow! I'm sooo coming to New York. You are a remarkable person.

Posted by: oddybobob at November 12, 2006 10:17 AM

I'm with Oddy. We all need a meet sometime. I would love to just sit and listen to you. Bug tells me that you are a remarkable person.

Posted by: Tink at November 12, 2006 10:48 AM

This was great. Struck a chord as I used to live in North Africa, though very far removed from any American embassy or consulate.

I featured this in my latest post.

Thanks, Michele.

Posted by: Mark at November 12, 2006 03:42 PM

I'm sorry I didn't get over here yesterday. May I say once again, you never fail to astound me!

And Thank You Marines!

Posted by: Teresa at November 13, 2006 12:06 AM

I was riveted after the first 2 sentences! What a wonderful story.

Posted by: Gigi at November 13, 2006 08:56 AM

Very beautiful.

Posted by: Ogre at November 13, 2006 03:44 PM

Great work!

Posted by: Kevin at November 13, 2006 09:05 PM