Years ago, because many of the Marines recently killed in the Iraq War came from Camp LeJeune, North Carolina, President George W. Bush went there to be with families and friends of the fallen men.

     Listening to his televised speech at the Base, I found myself standing under the awning of the porch on Daly Street. I heard the laughter of children as they played in the field across the street. I remembered the sound of the train as it cut through the woods, the sight of the gardenia bush growing along the front fence, the chain in place that allowed the driveway gate to swing although the hardware store man had told me it could not be done and all the tomato plants along the back of the yard.

     I remembered cooking and scrubbing during the week and then piling four children into the car on Saturday mornings, driving down Piney Green Road, and heading for Camp LeJeune’s Bonnyman Bowling Center.

     I remember the uproar caused when the guard on the gate did not salute a Captain’s car as his wife passed through. Saying. “I salute the man, not the insignia on the car.” And I remember the astonishment I felt when I along with other enlisted wives were saluted when passing through the gate for several days after the incident. If they had to salute one wife, they would salute them all. I have treasured those salutes for many years.

     From 1957 through 1960, we lived in a mobile home park along the Camp Geiger entrance road. We had no telephone and mail was picked up from a post office box at the community center about two blocks away. Late at night, you could hear the recruits calling cadence as they ran along the base road. I often wonder what happened to each of those young men who would soon see battle in their future days. Their voices were like the sounds of that Daly Street train. They belonged with North Carolina nights and are distant echoes that I can still hear without trying to remember.

     So when I recall memories of Camp LeJeune I also remember to pray for those who now live on Daly Street and Piney Green Road. Somehow I know in years past, other mothers prayed for us because we were stationed at Camp LeJeune