Fall in!

     "Fall in!" a common command given in the Marines. It commands a group of Marines standing around to organize themselves into a formation. The width of the formation are called squads and in length, the rows are called ranks. The command can also be given to a single Marine, it commands him/her to join a group already in formation. When a Marine, Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Coast Guardsman returns from service they return to a group they've been away from for quite a while.
      The Marines I have served with were still young when they left home. Eighteen, some even seventeen come into boot camp and learning for the first time how to shave; how to shine their boots; how to iron properly; how to properly address and greet someone in a respectful manner. In essence, the DI (drill instructor) was the father we never had. He puts us to bed at exactly 2100hrs every night and gets us up, like children getting prepared for school every morning. For many of the young recruits, this was their only solid father figure. And boot camp, was the furthest and longest they've ever been away from home. We learned so many things in boot camp. We learned how to walk again, this time in step with the person to your front and to step off with your left foot at all times, and the importance of the three S's every morning; Shit, Shower and Shave.
     We learn about life in a different manner compared to the everyday man. I speak of men because this is the only perspective I can see it. Don't think of it like I'm excluding women. I can only speak of what I know.
     I know a Marine, a very good one, that when we were leaving the Marine Corps, he had serious doubts on what to do. He didn't know if he wanted to stay in or leave and return to the civilian world. He was young when he joined, only eighteen. Jose Vazquez from East Los Angeles, CA, or from "East Los" he would say in his layed back MexiCali accent. On our flight to Kuwait during our first deployment, he sat right next to me. He was anxious and looking out the window. California's bright sunshine was coming through the porthole. He turned to me and if he had a tail, you would see it wagging at this point.

Vazquez roof top overlooking Ramadii, Iraq

     "This is my first time flying Zoleta", he said, huge grin in place. I thought to myself, "Get the fuck outta here". Imagine experiencing the first flight you were on was not to some tropical vacation spot, or to visit grandma because you miss her chocolate chip cookies so much; but to Kuwait, not knowing if destiny had purchased you a round trip flight. You won't be landing in Hawaii where women in grass skirts and coconut bras put a lei around your neck. Instead, you would be rushed to the furthest reaches of the desert to participate in the largest assault in modern combat.
     Flash forward to 2005. We were now two time combat veterans now. Hardened like a sword that was tempered with a hammer, but now we were scared and uncertain. He did not know if he would go to college. What would it be like to be away from the barracks? The unknown lay in front of Vazquez. Not only did he tell me that he feared it, it was showing in his every expression.
     Today, I asked about those doubts he had. It was rough for him in the beginning but he managed to find his way through. Perseverance, Marines don't quit. They find they're way, one way or another.

How did you feel as your EAS (End of Active Service) date came closer?

I have to say the Marine Corp was the best decision I could have made for myself. My choice to volunteer my life during September 11, 2001 was an amazing and incredible time. I met a great group of elite people who took it upon themselves to make a commitment to sacrifice every ounce of sweat, tear and blood to take on matters that were beyond our control. Upon returning from my 2^nd tour from Iraq my morale was ecstatic about my separation from the service. What was so mentally draining for me was thinking about what to do once I was out. Safe to say school was the plan and idea, but really had no clue about what to pursue as a lifelong career. Honestly, separating from the Marine Corp was terrifying for me because I wanted to be a “lifer” a term we utilize for those who make it a career. Personal problems and family made me come to my decision to go through my separation and transition to a civilian. 

What was going through your mind when you were out and living your life as a civilian?

Living life as a civilian was a huge transition for the first couple of years and continues to be. The thought of having to go back to school was scary even though there was nothing to fear. Apparently, my thoughts were so powerful controlling my emotions and feelings that my thought process was completely disillusioned about what I wanted in life. This was a challenge for me and I took it upon myself to find help and make that effort to find what would give me a happy medium for my life. Therapy has helped me and continues to help me bridge the gaps that make me feel as if I cannot fit in society. Also, staying busy and making the right choices continues to be part of my success being a civilian. Making goals and keeping them in perspective keep my mind focused and on track.

What problems do you face and expect to face in the future?

I personally believe that you have to go through trial and error and find out for yourself what works for you and what makes you function effectively and efficiently. When you feel like there is no answer, know that others have been there and have overcome their challenges. Semper Fidelis!

   Vazquez and I still remain close. We have made it a plan to be only a phone call away when we had problems coping with flashbacks, stress, nightmares and just regular life. We were brothers at arms and remain to be eternally. War had made us family and that is as good as blood. Semper Fi indeed Vazquez.

The Diary

Would always be carried on the inside of my flak jacket

I was fishing through some of my things in the garage the other month and I happened to find this little black book. It was lightly covered with some sand. The binded edge of the book was taped with an olive drab duct tape. For a moment, it looked unfamiliar to me. Then it hit me, and I literally said out loud, "Oh shit!". It was my combat diary from my first tour in Iraq. It still had some sand on it and looked a little worn. A parachute cord was taped to the binding and I used the length of it to hold or mark a page.

Front binding

As I shuffled through its pages, I saw a lot of things that bought back memories. In the front book binding, I taped a picture of my wife (we weren't married yet at the time) and I on our visit to Disneyland. The picture was dusty and the lamination I put on it had some wear. I'm glad I laminated it. Taped to the back binding, was a picture of my niece, Kymora. She was wearing a blue jumper and light blue knit hat. Dare I say it being a Marine, she is adorable. She's so grown up and busy with selling girl scout cookies, gymnastics, and lacrosse.

Back binding

I shuffled through the beginning parts of the diary. The beginning had some poetry I had written. A lot of it were notes I had written during classes we constantly gave within our company. Classes like clearing a room of hostiles, the handling EPW's (enemy prisoner of war), combat 1st aid, and code encryption. This little black book was partially a book of notes, and partially my diary. I did not keep a good diary. Reading it, they were just a lot of ramblings of a kid stuck in the desert. The beginnings parts were boredom. Why didn't I keep a good diary? It's value to me would mean so much now than I would have ever imagined. I do recall, the time I should have spent writing, I spent sleeping. Sleeping was as valuable as water. It would be hard to come by as we rolled into Iraq. It did bring back memories, and emotions though. The texture of the cover reminded me of the constant struggle I had to keep sand out from between the pages. Sandstorms or even the regular wind made sand appear everywhere. This made it difficult for keeping weapons clean.

Back binding where I wrote the serial # to my M16 and Night Vision Goggles

Orders on our first mission into Iraq

Notes on interpreting arabic writing

How to fire a SMAW (Shoulder Mounted Anti-Tank Weapon)

How to say numbers in arabic

Notes on clearing a room

Its entries were very private. I would find myself cutting off an entry into the diary when another Marine would come by. I was afraid they would read it. They might think "Zoleta's writing his final words". I could take that Marine's hope easily knowing that I may have given up hope by writing my final words. Even now, it's hard to share. What would others think? I don't know. But. it's best to put them in my boots and share our story for no one may ever understand us. Our story may never be told.


Little by little I'll post entries of my diary. It's going to take some courage on my part but give it time and I'll build it up. So check back in regularly to read about some of our stories.

-Semper Fi

Reveille!!! Reveille!!!

If I asked you about what Charlie Sheen did recently, you probably would give me a well informed answer. The Kardashians, you probably have kept up with them. Maybe more than your own family.

What if I asked you, who was the Navy Seal who was awarded the Medal of Honor for his heroic actions in Afghanistan. You would probably have no clue. Some of you probably think a Navy Seal is marine mammal and say "What the hell is it doing in Afghanistan?".

It just annoys me about the what makes news and what doesn't. There are so many untold stories out there that have not been told. Stories of honor, courage, and love of country. We may never hear them. That's the part that saddens me. These stories will do more for us spiritually than Charlie Sheen's drug crazed escapades. Who gives a damn he lost his job? You would lose your job if you did what he did.

My name is Joseph Zoleta. Formerly Corporal Zoleta from the United States Marine Corps. I was an infantry rifleman with Golf Company, 2nd Battalion 5th Marines (Oorah!). I served two combat tours in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and served my active duty time from 2002-2006. Since my return to the 1st Civ Div (Civilian World), I have had many feelings of coming back to "normalcy". As quickly and as much as I wanted my active duty time to end, I found it very difficult and still continue to do so. I imagine the difficulty service members have when they have been pulled from a battlefield on a stretcher only to wake elsewhere and find out you almost didn't make it. I imagine the feeling cannot be put in words. The emotion can not be expressed.

There is an organization out there though that is helping. The organization is called "The Wounded Warrior Project". It is a non-profit organization. Its purpose stated

• To raise awareness and enlist the public’s aid for the needs of injured service members.
• To help injured service members aid and assist each other.
• To provide unique, direct programs and services to meet the needs of injured service members.

My mission is to help this organization succeed. This is my first time organizing something like this. But, when you're behind something with all your heart, there's no stopping you.

How? How am I going to help? What can little ol' me do that can make a difference? Doing something is better than doing nothing. I have taken the model of other great organizations, such as the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, Multiple Sclerosis Society, and the American Heart Association, and wanted to be sponsored to participate in a sporting event. Not just any event, a triathlon. Not alone either, Marines work better as a team. Awareness and strength comes in numbers. So I have been recruiting and still am looking for any members to participate.

Why the name "Team Zombie"? A friend thought of it. Because we keep on coming. A zombie can fit into many analogies in life. Many will be reflected further on in this blog. It just fits! The name just fits!

I will be honest with you in that the idea of doing a triathlon snowballed into doing numerous triathlons. Numerous battles win a war, not just one. We are looking into participating in adventure races.

The first event we are participating in will be the Queens Biathlon on May 15th. It is a 3 mile run, 18 mile bike, and another 3 mile run to put a cherry on top. Let me tell you, I'm a paramedic. We are not the healthiest people out there. In other words this is not going to be a breeze for me. It is the path that draws me. Better myself, help my brothers and sisters is the personal game plan.

Stay tuned! There will be updates on how our training is going, personal stories from the battlefield. I will make sure you know these heroes names. You will learn their story and hopefully use it to learn about yourself.

Semper Fi and Retreat Hell