Remembering Manuel: A Memorial Day Celebration
The Forgotten Lessons of Beirut
"The BLT is gone!"
"Gone?" the major shot back in confusion,
having been rudely awakened by the impact of a door torn
from its hinges and thrown across the room onto the rack
where he'd been sleeping... "What do you mean 'gone'?"
"Sir, it's just gone, blown up. It's not there
anymore!" the staff sergeant confirmed, not yet
knowing how or why...
On October 23, 1983, a suicide bomber drove a 19-ton truck loaded with the equivalent of over 20,000 pounds of TNT into the front door of the U. S. Marine barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. The bombing killed 241 Marines, representing the single largest loss of Marines in a single day since D-Day on Iwo Jima during 
WWII. Ironically, many of us deployed to Beirut arrived aboard the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2), a Vietnam-era helicopter carrier. That incident some 25 years ago ushered in a new era of terrorism against the U.S. that is still being waged in the Middle East and the world at large today.
This Memorial Day fewer people will remember the sacrifices of Beirut, reflecting instead on the tragedy of September 11, 2001. Everyday I remember a young man who was not only a friend, but a hero in every sense of the word. He never held his newborn child... he never had the chance to say goodbye to his wife whom he loved without reservation. He never knew how much his sacrifice meant to those of us who loved him as a brother and trusted him with our lives. And he would never know the lessons he taught us about unselfish sacrifice.
I first met Manuel Cox after transferring from the White House in 1982. I'd been deployed previously to Lebanon to facilitate the evacuation of Yaser Arafat and radical members of the PLO and had come to know some members of Golf Company, 2nd Battalion, 8th Marines. When I was finally transferred permanently to Camp Geiger, I was walking into not unfamiliar territory.
Though he and I were both in the same platoon, it was some time before Manuel and I became friends. It was only through our off-duty forages with friends we had in common that a bond began to form. By the end of the year, we were as close as brothers. Manuel was a devoted husband and friend... and what none of us realized at the time was that he was about to redefine heroism amongst a generation that vaguely remembered the lessons of Vietnam conflict.
The Middle East at this point was becoming a time bomb between Israel and the various warring factions in Lebanon and the Marines were about to be cast in a very uncomfortable, and unfamiliar, role. Defined by its mission statement, the Marine Corps was an offensive unit, an advanced tactical force never designed for peacekeeping operations. That was about to change... with tragic consequences.
Reagan's decision to send us into Beirut soon became a nightmare. UN mandates prohibited us, for the most part, from carrying chambered weapons. Years later, in the last memoir he wrote before his death, he lamented...
WWII. Ironically, many of us deployed to Beirut arrived aboard the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2), a Vietnam-era helicopter carrier. That incident some 25 years ago ushered in a new era of terrorism against the U.S. that is still being waged in the Middle East and the world at large today. This Memorial Day fewer people will remember the sacrifices of Beirut, reflecting instead on the tragedy of September 11, 2001. Everyday I remember a young man who was not only a friend, but a hero in every sense of the word. He never held his newborn child... he never had the chance to say goodbye to his wife whom he loved without reservation. He never knew how much his sacrifice meant to those of us who loved him as a brother and trusted him with our lives. And he would never know the lessons he taught us about unselfish sacrifice.
I first met Manuel Cox after transferring from the White House in 1982. I'd been deployed previously to Lebanon to facilitate the evacuation of Yaser Arafat and radical members of the PLO and had come to know some members of Golf Company, 2nd Battalion, 8th Marines. When I was finally transferred permanently to Camp Geiger, I was walking into not unfamiliar territory.
Though he and I were both in the same platoon, it was some time before Manuel and I became friends. It was only through our off-duty forages with friends we had in common that a bond began to form. By the end of the year, we were as close as brothers. Manuel was a devoted husband and friend... and what none of us realized at the time was that he was about to redefine heroism amongst a generation that vaguely remembered the lessons of Vietnam conflict.
The Middle East at this point was becoming a time bomb between Israel and the various warring factions in Lebanon and the Marines were about to be cast in a very uncomfortable, and unfamiliar, role. Defined by its mission statement, the Marine Corps was an offensive unit, an advanced tactical force never designed for peacekeeping operations. That was about to change... with tragic consequences.
Reagan's decision to send us into Beirut soon became a nightmare. UN mandates prohibited us, for the most part, from carrying chambered weapons. Years later, in the last memoir he wrote before his death, he lamented...
"Sending the Marines into Beirut is the single source of my greatest sorrow and deepest regret."
At 6:30 A.M. on a quiet Sunday morning, a lone suicide bomber sped through the barriers surrounding the barracks and headed straight for the front door. The sentries, whose weapons were unloaded, managed to load and get off several rounds but to no avail and within seconds, the four-story building was reduced to rubble. Nearly two weeks later, Manuel would find himself fighting for his life, a fight he lost, but one that became a study in courage, determination and sacrifice.
On December 4, 1983, Manuel and his team manned Observation Post 74 near the site that had previously been the Marine barracks. That was the same day the United States lost two fighter-bombers in air strikes against Syrian targets, with one pilot killed and the other captured.
Manuel's squad came under fire by Shiites hell-bent on killing them all and stealing weapons and ammunition. By all witnessed accounts the fighting was incredibly ferocious... lasting for hours well into the night. Survivors testify that Manuel and his team conducted themselves in a manner described by one observer as "simply awesome."
"(Manuel) called for and adjusted artillery and mortar, gave fire commands to his Marines, the whole deal. He and his Marines fought like hell that night," said Mike Ettore, a fellow Marine who said he was monitoring the fight on radio. "Somebody got an hour of the fight on a tape recording. I've always believed they should have that tape in squad leader school and say, 'OK, listen to this. Here's how Marines should be led in combat.' "
Tragically, the last enemy round of the night made a direct hit on OP 76, killing Cox and seven of his Marines. La
nce Corporal Harold Clayburn crawled 300 meters on his belly, as Shiite militants tried to shoot him, to get to Cox's position to assess the situation. The scene at OP 76 was, in his words, "utter carnage." I was by this time in Germany awaiting transfer back to a medical facility in the States. It would be nearly a month before I found out what had happened to Manuel and how that one act of unselfish sacrifice and courage would reinforce America's integrity and determination to stand against those forces hell-bent on destroying the principles and ideals that form the very foundation of America.
I have faith in this country, however divided we may be at times, and I pray we never forget not only those who have died, but those who stand ready to defend our freedoms. For it is only because of them that we can sleep under a blanket of security without fear or surrender.
On this Memorial Day weekend, reach out to someone you know who has served this great country and thank them for the sacrifices they withstood and pray that God will keep his arm around us safe in the knowledge that our strength is in unity and nothing will tear us apart.
On December 4, 1983, Manuel and his team manned Observation Post 74 near the site that had previously been the Marine barracks. That was the same day the United States lost two fighter-bombers in air strikes against Syrian targets, with one pilot killed and the other captured.
Manuel's squad came under fire by Shiites hell-bent on killing them all and stealing weapons and ammunition. By all witnessed accounts the fighting was incredibly ferocious... lasting for hours well into the night. Survivors testify that Manuel and his team conducted themselves in a manner described by one observer as "simply awesome."
"(Manuel) called for and adjusted artillery and mortar, gave fire commands to his Marines, the whole deal. He and his Marines fought like hell that night," said Mike Ettore, a fellow Marine who said he was monitoring the fight on radio. "Somebody got an hour of the fight on a tape recording. I've always believed they should have that tape in squad leader school and say, 'OK, listen to this. Here's how Marines should be led in combat.' "
Tragically, the last enemy round of the night made a direct hit on OP 76, killing Cox and seven of his Marines. La
nce Corporal Harold Clayburn crawled 300 meters on his belly, as Shiite militants tried to shoot him, to get to Cox's position to assess the situation. The scene at OP 76 was, in his words, "utter carnage." I was by this time in Germany awaiting transfer back to a medical facility in the States. It would be nearly a month before I found out what had happened to Manuel and how that one act of unselfish sacrifice and courage would reinforce America's integrity and determination to stand against those forces hell-bent on destroying the principles and ideals that form the very foundation of America.I have faith in this country, however divided we may be at times, and I pray we never forget not only those who have died, but those who stand ready to defend our freedoms. For it is only because of them that we can sleep under a blanket of security without fear or surrender.
On this Memorial Day weekend, reach out to someone you know who has served this great country and thank them for the sacrifices they withstood and pray that God will keep his arm around us safe in the knowledge that our strength is in unity and nothing will tear us apart.
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on Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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