This is Jocco podcast number 220 with Echo Charles and me, Jocco Willink. Good evening, echo. Good evening.

Three hours passed by slowly and the terrible news had been heralded by the few frustrated medical staff members walking out of the tent stressed out.

Three of the wounded did not make it.

And the word was passed that it was time for us to perform our job and the sinking feeling in the pit of my belly fell into the sea.

We tripped over ourselves trying to get up several of our Marines volunteered as litter bearers and several of us quickly cleared our sleeping area to make room for the processing.

Our sleeping area was out in the open and people who were passing by could see in through the Camo netting.

So a couple of our Marines were assigned to each end to ensure that discretion was maintained.

The only sounds it could be heard were the not so distant generator and the swaying of the Camo netting in the light breeze.

We stood in earnest under incandescent lights watching our fellow MA Marines carrying the remains of our fallen brothers in and lowered them on to the sandy floor of our sleeping area.

It was out of reverence that no one spoke.

We each intently watched the actions of our MA Marines as they began their work.

The slow sound of a heavy zipper being opened on each bag was deafening.

And the confused emotions began to whirl inside my soul.

The female chaplain assigned to the STP followed the procession in and watched our Marines begin the processing.

And she leaned over to whisper to one of our teammates.

You guys have a very tough job.

Very tough.

The first was a Hispanic staff sergeant who was assigned to a tank battalion and had succumbed to his wounds sustained in a firefight outside of Baghdad.

The second was a Caucasian Lance Corporal.

The same one who three hours prior I had helped carry off the helicopter.

His fingers were still wrenched together just as he had done earlier as he arrived in pain.

And the tracks of his tears were still visible.

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