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Marine reservist Justin Grieco sends 'E-mails From the Sands' back home to St. Vincent College, giving fellow students a personal, point-blank perspective.
Dispatches from Iraq
Sunday, January 30, 2005

Sept. 3, 2004
Three Marines were killed today by an Improvised Explosive Device. ... Two died instantly, the other one, who was manning the turret, died during transport. Two others were injured as well, and we've received no further word on their status. What bugs me the most, is that had we left two hours earlier like planned, those [killed in action] could have been from my platoon. ...

Grieco, left, with Lance Cpl. Bane, an old friend from MP school in 2002 who he happened to meet again in Iraq as he was arriving and Bane was leaving in September 2004.
Click photo for larger image.

   All photos courtesy of Lance Cpl. Justin Grieco.

On the Internet
Follow Grieco's "E-Mails From the Sands, posted on the St. Vincent College Web site.

I had the "privilege" of overseeing the wrecker, as it readied the downed Humvee for transport. The top of the vehicle was soaked in blood, and the back side had huge holes torn through it. About 20 feet away was a dog with half its head missing; proof that the dog was in the wrong place at the wrong time. ...

These words come from the online journal of Marine reservist Lance Cpl. Justin Grieco, a self-effacing young man with a shorn head and a straight smile who left the United States for Al-Qaim, Iraq, in August. He's also a St. Vincent College political science major from Greensburg.

At 21, Grieco is trying to figure out his place in the world like many his age. Through his "E-mail From the Sands: A Saint Vincent College Marine in Iraq" journal posted on the college Web site, he shares his experience of war.

I'll be out here for only 7 months, but it is my wish to successfully create an image to you, the reader, of life while serving [in] Iraq. From washing my clothes in the shower, to waking up to 106 degree heat at 0200 in the morning, I want you to get the full exposure, he writes in his first entry, dated Aug. 28.

Grieco writes with grit, heart and refreshing earnestness about his fears, frustrations and triumphs, like the time senior Marines nicknamed him "Andretti," after race-car driver Mario Andretti, because he swiftly and successfully led a four-vehicle convoy under enemy fire from a U.S. military camp along the Syrian border to an Iraqi police station.

Sept. 25, 2004

Lance Cpl. Justin Grieco of Greensburg pictured on his way back to base for fuel in early January. It was 20 degrees that day with a "wicked wind chill."
Click photo for larger image.
Missions are rated by an informal "pucker factor." Pucker factor, being a Marine Corps slang term, describes how intense the situation is. Your buttocks clench increasingly tighter with the rising threat around you. The pucker factor was extremely high for this mission. ... If you think being shot at with [rocket-propelled grenades] is bad, driving an impromptu route through back alleyways of a hostile city is even worse. ... All you have to do is watch "Black Hawk Down" for a better visual. I swear, it looked exactly the same. Children ran across your path at every turn, alleys were so narrow that you could touch the buildings as you drove by, and the adrenaline was running at an all-time high. Despite maneuvering between 3 cars at a time, and alleys with blind turns, I led the convoy to safety....

"I always knew that he was really brave," says his fiancee, Jennifer Conte, 22, of Greensburg. "I just don't know if he did."

Conte also didn't know Grieco was such a good writer.

"The way he writes them, sometimes, I can't believe it's him," she says with a laugh.

Conte has found her fiance's journal honest and, at times, reassuring.

"I just always imagined that he was constantly being shot at and explosions all over the place," she says. "I learned that it's like that sometimes, but it's not like that all the time and it's a little bit comforting to know that he's not constantly getting shot at."

Though fleeting, there are moments of seeming normalcy on base. Between stress-filled missions, Grieco plays 500 Rummy or works out in the gym listening to Coldplay, Rage Against the Machine, Metallica or WDVE disc jockeys Jim Krenn and Randy Baumann's "What a Pair" comedy CD, to name a few. He also finds a little time to e-mail and write letters to friends and family.

Conte rushes home each day and checks her mailbox, e-mail and the SVC Web site for any new word from him. She writes to him every day and, in addition to exchanging e-mails and letters, they talk on the phone when possible. He also writes to her parents and her sister and even talked to her grandfather in a Thanksgiving phone call.

"I wait to hear from him and try not to watch the news," she says. "He tells me to not watch the news and just rely on what he has to say."

She loves hearing how Grieco regularly interacts with Iraqi children, giving them supplies, food and candy he has received from home. He sends back pictures of the children.

"People have this picture of the guys who go over there as being really rough and hard, and I'm not saying he's not like that, but he's also very compassionate," Conte says. "And I think this has made him even more compassionate."

Sept. 11, 2004

I train Iraqi Police at the Academy near the base. Most Iraqis are there because they need a job, but some are there for more than just money. The Iraqi Instructors are there because they care about their country. They respect the U.S. presence in Iraq and understand this enemy that plagues their country. Iraq is a host to a dangerous virus, and men like Mohammed, Ahmed, Bayon, and Khalif are willing to stop it. ...

Two of my new friends in Iraq, Moff and Kaleb, are respectable Iraqi Police officers. Moff has done numerous joint patrols with the Marines and has two confirmed kills under his belt. ... The same story goes for Kaleb, who on a joint patrol spotted an IED [improvised explosive device] nearby and was able to save American lives by alerting the patrol. These men are good men, and I can respect their patriotism.

"It puts a face on the people of Iraq," Justin Grieco's mother, Karen Scott, says of his journal. "To me, it's like no matter where you go, we're all the same."

Oct. 1, 2004

I've become used to rifle fire and explosions on a weekly basis. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, but I am aware that my training takes over when things heat up. As long as a Marine does not break down under fire, everything else can be fixed when the situation is not so strenuous. I hope I hold up for the next 6 months. It's not a matter of fear or nervousness; all of us feel that. It's a matter of reverting to muscle memory when things hit the fan....

There are good days and bad. Grieco writes about his platoon having the heart-pounding, nerve-wracking job of escorting convoys through the literal minefield that is the desert between Al-Qaim -- nicknamed "Meadow of Mines" -- and a U.S. military camp on the edge of Husaybah.

Jan. 10, 2005

Lance Cpl. Justin Grieco of Greensburg met an Iraqi girl named Amod while escorting a group to a town. Children often flock to the Marines, who routinely give them candy, food and soccer balls.
Click photo for larger image.
While some of the towns surrounding our base have begun marking the mines in an effort to help the Marines, there are still those times when it simply comes down to luck. So far, our luck has not been too great. Of the past four trips out to Camp Gannon, two of them not including the recovery team have struck mines. The results of these attacks have not been pretty.

I'm unaware of when we are scheduled to return home, but it must be sometime soon. What I do know is that the more time that passes here, the more anxious I become. I'm tired of watching the Black Hawk Medevacs fly out. I'm tired of desperately trying to drive in the tracks of the vehicle in front of me. I'm tired of the danger, and I've had my fill of adventure. ...

Working essentially 24 hours a day, seven days a week, Grieco has been pushed to physical, emotional and psychological limits he couldn't even have imagined before.

"It's one thing to watch an action movie and another thing to experience it," he says via an e-mail to the Post-Gazette. "People die. They can only dodge so many bullets from the enemy."

Talking helps him deal with the explosions, small arms fire and psychological stress of combat. Over breakfast, dinner or cigarettes, Grieco and his two closest friends, Lance Cpl. Jared Boyer and Cpl. Ben Poole, reflect upon and sometimes joke about some of their more hair-raising missions and moments. Grieco finds that writing the journal helps, too.

"One of my favorite things to do is mark the days off on the homemade calendar my fiancee sent to me, especially after a 'bad' day," he says. "It helps me clear my mind of the incident and tell myself 'one more day.' "

Grieco recalls going out on a two-hour resupply mission a month and a half ago with his convoy facing small arms fire on the way back to base. Upon their return, they were ready to unwind, eat and crash in bed, but they received another resupply mission to the same location because a second load of supplies was urgent.

"It's missions like these when one is forced to push themselves that extra mile because somewhere, lives are on the line," he says. "You're exhausted, your adrenaline has been expended, but somewhere, you must find in yourself the strength to keep going."

He prays each day to remain positive, focused and strong.

"I remind myself why I'm here, and even though I might not always agree with something, the sooner our mission for the day is accomplished, the closer I feel to coming home," Grieco says. "I'm a Marine, and we're the best of the best. So, sometimes, sheer pride is what gives me that push to keep going. I'm expected to and so I do it."

Grieco's mother isn't pleased he's in harm's way, but she's extremely proud of him, the work he's doing and the emotional maturity he has shown.

"He's found his soul because the people have touched him, the situation has truly touched him and has changed him for the better," says Scott, 51, of Irwin. "He's more sensitive, more appreciative, more concerned about the human condition, more tolerant."

Sept. 11, 2004

Grieco and Cpl. Chad Anderson provide security for a civil affairs group outside a small hospital in Sadah. The December assignment gave the Marines a chance to interact with Iraqi children.
Click photo for larger image.
I have much hope for this country and the entire Middle East in general. It's easy to write things off when the issues are 7,000 miles away from home and you watch it on the evening news. It's a different story when you live with it every day, face to face. Faces become attached with names, and eventually names have histories as well. To not show at least a little empathy to them would be wrong. They're real people living in hell. It's our duty to give the next generation a better life. ...

From one dusty, desert town to another, Grieco has seen Iraqi people wearing the same clothes for days on end because that's all they have. Most live in homes fashioned out of rock, stones or crude drywall, he says. The streets of Al-Qaim, one of the most neglected regions under Saddam's rule because of its proximity to Syria, are strewn with trash.

"He always tells me, 'Don't believe what you read in the papers, that's not what's really over here. These poor people are suffering,' " his mother says. "I think he truly loves the people."

Grieco and others in his platoon intentionally overpaid an Iraqi friend of theirs for Iraqi clothing, which the Marines plan to bring home as souvenirs. They knew the man needed the money for his pregnant wife.

Through talking and sharing pictures of friends and family back home, Grieco says he has made dozens of Iraqi friends. He also has become proficient enough in speaking Arabic to serve as an informal translator at the military Command Center.

Although there still is danger in Al-Qaim, Iraqis there have told him they're happy the Marines are there and Saddam is gone.

"With the structuring of the Iraqi Police and the local Iraqi National Guard, we've given people the opportunity to be safe -- something they have never experienced before," he says. "Schools and hospitals are more efficient due to donations by the Marines, and people are returning to their jobs.

"Their children go to schools equipped with actual supplies necessary for teaching and the children travel with new backpacks, all courtesy of Uncle Sam," Grieco says. "Sure, that sounds corny to us, but for the Iraqis, it means the world."

Lucas Lamadrid, Ph.D., St. Vincent College vice president and chief student affairs officer, suggested the journal idea. Lamadrid thought the journal would help Grieco stay connected to the college and give the students a sense of perspective.

"It's not the end of the world if you do poorly on an exam," he says. "It's a lot more stress to get shot at."

Grieco e-mails a journal entry and some photos to the college at least twice a month, and they're posted on the college Web site.

"I knew Justin would appreciate it, but I had no idea what its impact might be," Lamadrid says of the journal. "It's really caught people's imagination. They think about him and pray for him, and it makes the 6 o'clock news very real."

The St. Vincent History Club sent him a few boxes filled with sundries and snacks. Items he requested for his platoon in an Oct. 25 journal entry included a CD player for his workout partner/Iraqi special forces officer, Mohammed; black, brown or green cold-weather clothing; goodies; magazines; books; Bibles; batteries; paper; colored pencils and markers; shaving cream and razors; and shower sandals.

"We support our troops, but our troops are people we know, people whose faces we see, boys whose parents we know, and in the process, we've come to adopt their whole Bravo Company," Lamadrid says. "All of these faces and stories, they're not anonymous individuals who wear a uniform. They're our own and they're facing danger every day."

When Grieco wrote that his platoon needed decorations for a Christmas barracks decorating contest, he received nine boxes of Christmas cheer from St. Vincents.

Jan. 1, 2005

Using Christmas decorations that arrived from St. Vincent College, Grieco and his mates entered a barracks decorating contest.
Click photo for larger image.
The Marines of 3rd Platoon Bravo did not win the Christmas decorating contest. This came as quite a shock to us, for we were confident our barracks would be worthy of 1st prize. Of the dozens of Christmas trees the Marines had set up, some even had small trains with tracks that looped around, make-believing that they carried real cargo to a real destination. The outside porch was accompanied by a dancing snowman, synthetic snow, and more tinsel than we knew what to do with, but this was not enough. ...

Despite our loss in the contest, I still want to thank everyone who contributed to our event. Without your support, we would not have fathomed entering in the first place. Besides, it is truly amazing what a little decorating can do to improve the holiday spirit.

"I never thought that something as simple as Christmas decorations would lift the spirits of our troops," says Lemington Elementary School teacher Heather King, who not only has enjoyed reading Grieco's journals, but has used some entries as part of a current events curriculum, titled "The Cost of Freedom," for her fifth-graders.

"I decided to have my students read Justin's journals because they painted such a clear picture of life as a solider in Iraq," she says. "Nowhere else have I found a real-life, factual account of a soldier at war."

King's students have started to really feel for the soldiers.

"Their biggest questions: 'Why did the U.S. have to send troops all the way to Iraq to fight a war?' 'What's in it for us? All I see are American soldiers getting hurt and killed.' 'Who decides when the war is over and how will we know who is the winner?' " she says. "Justin's journals have made the war real to them."

Jan. 1, 2005

Lance Cpl. Justin Grieco calls his bunk "his little piece of heaven," his refuge in the Al-Qaim barracks. His best friend in the platoon, Lance Cpl. Jared Boyer, is in the top bunk.
Click photo for larger image.
New Year's Day is a time of personal reflection, a time to look back on deeds past, both for the good and those you wish to change.

As I sit here, in my little corner of the world in which I am a stranger, I think back on the time spent with my family, friends and loved ones. I reflect on the man I was one year ago, and in what ways am I different. Am I a better man for fighting this war? Was it right of me to take such a risk that would eventually lead me half-way around the world to a place plagued with violence? I have so many questions for myself.

I miss the world I left behind. I miss what life I had before coming here. Still, the little communication that I have with it beckons me to return. With three months to go before returning, I am forced to ready myself for re-adjustment back into a life without armor plating and heavy weapons -- a life where a whistle doesn't mean an incoming mortar but possibly a vehicle passing by. While I'm sure it might be difficult at first, I eagerly await my turn at such a task....

Grieco says he has found the world to be a complex and impatient place with everyone wanting their way right now. But he still believes the good outweighs the bad.

"No matter how much danger I'm exposed to or negativity that may come my way, I still hold the same belief," he says. "I am proud that the United States tries to take an active role in bettering people's lives, even if sometimes it may appear to be going the wrong way. At least we are still trying."

Seeing the poor living conditions of good Iraqi people who've been mistreated all their lives has made him want to take a more active part in world affairs and his local community when he returns. He wants to finish his degree at St. Vincent, then perhaps study Arabic at the University of Pittsburgh's language school and perhaps work with the State Department one day.

The Iraqi people "have lives with problems just like us, most want good lives for their children and to see them grow up," Grieco says. "Many customs between our cultures may clash on the surface, but I believe we both want the same things in life. Everyone has a fair share of problems, not just in the United States, and despite what may be broadcast on the news at night, we truly are making a difference to these people."

First published on January 30, 2005 at 12:00 am
Post-Gazette staff writer L.A. Johnson can be reached at ljohnson@post-gazette.com or 412-263-3903.