Redeployment(87)

Earlier that night, I’d had a few drinks with Joe-the-lawyer and Ed-the-banker. With them I’d reverted back to college, cracking dirty jokes and telling drunk stories, so when I sat down at my computer, I think I wanted to recover whatever it is that I am when I look at the names of the dead.

I sat in my chair and clicked on one of the bad ones, snapping my night in half. Joe and Ed drifted off, insubstantial.

The Department of Defense announced today the death of two Marines who were supporting Operation Enduring Freedom. Lance Cpl. Shield S. Mason, 27, of Oneida, N.Y., and Cpl. James R. Vockler, 21, of Fairhope, Ala., died October 3 of wounds suffered while supporting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan. They were assigned to the 1st Battalion, 9th Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Lejeune, N.C.

For additional background information on this Marine, news media representatives may contact the II Marine Expeditionary Force public affairs office at (910) 451-7200.



The date on the release, October 3, was more than a week and a half before. I typed his name into Google to see what might come up, and a slew of news articles appeared. “Baldwin County Marine Killed in Afghanistan.” “Fallen Marine Returns Home.” And, bizarrely, an older article entitled “Home for Christmas!” I clicked on it.

A page opened with a photo of Vockler, his arms outstretched to the sky, while his two younger sisters give him a hug, one on each side. The girls only came up to his shoulders, and the photo looked as though it had been taken the day he left. Below was a block of text.

Today my wife and I watched our son, our Marine, Corporal James Robert Vockler, go off to war. Though it is hard for us to see our son embark on such a dangerous mission, we are tremendously proud of him and his brother Marines.

We drove down earlier this week with James and can report that he and his brother Marines are in high spirits. Despite the dangers, they are excited at the opportunity to do their mission, which will be to clear the enemy out of strongholds in southern Afghanistan. This is an important task they have been training months to do.

James is a 21-year-old Class of 2006 graduate of Fairhope High School. He fought in Iraq last year and returned home safe for Thanksgiving. He joins his Fairhope High School classmates Cpl. John Coburn and Lance Cpl. Andrew Roussos, who also fought in Iraq with him.

We look forward to the Marines accomplishing their mission and their safe return this Christmas.

—George, Anna, Jonathan, Ashley, and Lauren Vockler



I clicked away, back to the search results, and I looked around the room. Empty corners, a twin mattress lying pathetically on the floor. Quiet. I looked back to the computer. There were video results as well. I clicked on a YouTube link.

On the screen, a line curled around a school building—Fairhope High School, I guess. It looked like the images of Iraqis queuing to vote during those first elections, everyone patient and serious. This was Vockler’s wake. The whole community had come out to mourn. I thought I caught a glimpse of Boylan in his Alphas, but the video quality was too poor to tell. I closed the computer.

There was no alcohol in the apartment, and I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t know any vets in the city. I didn’t want to talk to any civilians. As I lay on my mattress, struggling with a violence you might as well call grief, I realized why no one had thought to inform me of Vockler’s death. I was in New York. I was out of the Corps. I wasn’t a Marine anymore.





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That Saturday I went to a documentary with Ed-the-banker. It was Ed’s idea. The film was about veterans dealing with civilian life, the four main characters ranging from a congressional candidate to a complete train wreck of a human being. One, a mixed martial arts fighter with PTSD, described an incident overseas where he’d shot up a civilian vehicle and killed a small girl about the age of his daughter.

After the film, the couple who made the documentary stood up, answered questions, and then chatted with the audience at a small reception. I walked over and thanked them for making it. I told them that the difficulties of transitioning to civilian life weren’t covered enough and that I especially appreciated how they avoided taking political positions that would have interfered with telling the men’s stories. I had a sense I was the only veteran in the room and thus better equipped to talk than anybody else. If I’d seen just one single guy rocking one of those OIF combat veteran ball caps, I would have kept my f*cking mouth shut.

“Very powerful,” I told Ed-the-banker as we walked out.