Today the United States military is an all-volunteer force. Service is no longer a requirement for all citizens, which means that those who enter the armed forces make the conscious decision to do so. As John Leone’s story shows, this decision is never easy. I was introduced to John’s story through my radio show.
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No father wants to see his son die.
After a twenty-two-year career in the Air Force—whether sweating through the Vietnam War in Guam or steeling himself to count body bags during the first Gulf War—John Leone was no stranger to the military. But when his son wanted to join the Marines, the paternal instincts started kicking in . . . hard.
“He told me that he was going to join the Marines,” said John. “And my first reaction was, ‘Are you crazy?’”
There is nothing easy about mixing parenting and patriotism. The bonds of family and country intersect and overlap, and while a mother might bleed red, white, and blue, the thought of her child walking into harm’s way never comes without a tear. It’s rarely easier on the father.
Maternal bonds run strong, but ask any father what it feels like to see his son—carrying all the memories of a first game of catch, camping trips, and Christmas mornings—prepare to go to war.
And so John told his son Mike, “You know you don’t have to do this.”
It was in the short years after 9/11. A sense of duty and defense had gripped the hearts and imaginations of high school students—kids suddenly felt that it was right to rise to the call of their attacked homeland—and Mike was no exception.
“Mike said, ‘No, Dad, it’s going to be fun,’” said John. “And I thought, he doesn’t know what it’s going to be like, he has no idea. So I said, ‘Do you know what kind of hardships will be there, do you know what’s going to happen?’”
“C’mon, Dad, it can’t be that bad.”
“Wait a minute, Son, I did it, I’ve lived that life.”
Mike paused for a second, “Yeah, but you’re old. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The conversation stopped there. John hoped that his son would get over this “fad,” but Mike went through his junior year and entered his senior year in high school. He came home one day, six months from graduation, and told his father that he’d been talking to a Marine recruiter.
“I was like, ‘Are you nuts?’” said John.
John had served in Vietnam and Guam.
“They knew that we were going to have duty here in the states trying to make sure that people knew what had happened to their kids,” said John. “You don’t know who you’re going to have to call up and say, ‘I hate to inform you that your kid is . . .’”
The possibility of losing his son haunted John. While he always felt that serving in the military was honorable and noble, there are certain images and fears that stick with fathers.
“I just wanted him to make sure that he knew what he was getting into.”
John and Mary Lou argued with Mike, but their son was enamored with the life, the training, and the image of what it means to be a Marine. The camaraderie and sense of purpose that permeates every level of that branch of service can be intoxicating to a boy who wants to become a man.
Thanksgiving came around and Mike was excelling in his studies. One day he came home from school with a photo of the flag being raised at Iwo Jima, given to him by the recruiter. Mike told his father that he was preparing to sign his contracts.
“Son, do you know what you’re going to be facing?” asked John.
“Yeah.”
John took Mike away from his mother—he believed some things aren’t meant to be said in front of women—and continued pressing his son.
“You may go to the front lines. You’re going to see heads blown off, you’re going to see bodies disintegrated, and you’re going to see horrible things. Son, are you ready for this?”
Mike looked at his father and replied, “Yeah, yeah, Dad, it’s no big deal.”
John stopped everything. “Look at me, look at me in my face.”
When a father locks eyes with his son, everything else fades away and things get serious.
“Are you ready to die for your country? Are you ready to give it all up?”
The question shocked Mike. He took a step back, shuddering. No recruiter, no person had ever asked him point-blank if he was ready to die. “What?” he asked.
John spoke again, calmly, but with force: “You can get excited about the uniform and the military—it’s exciting, I know—but when you get in, it’s more than the friends you’ll make. You’re going to probably go over to either Iraq or Afghanistan and there’s a strong chance that you could die.”
Mike stood there, silent, so John asked again, “Are you ready to die for your country?”
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Finally his son said, quietly, “I never thought of it that way.”
Mike left his father, went into his room, and locked the door.
For three days, Mike would come home from school, walk upstairs, lock his door, and just think. His parents would only see him briefly, at meals, and then Mike would go back upstairs and lock the door.
On the third day, Mike finally came out of his room.
“Dad?”
Something was different about Mike. John had never seen his son this somber, this serious, and this resolute.
The two men walked outside, away from Mike’s mother.
Mike looked his father straight in the eye and said, “Dad, you asked me if I was ready to die for my country. Well, I now know I am. I love this country and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, and if that means dying for my country, then that’s what it will be. This is what I want.”
Tears were quivering in both men’s eyes. They stood there for a moment, then embraced and hugged.
John whispered, “You know I’ll support you 110 percent. I’m proud of you for joining, and you should become the best Marine you can be. You will be serving in the greatest military organization in the world.”
They had to go back inside and tell Mike’s mother. Mary Lou cried, distraught over the thought of her baby dying.
“He’s a man now,” said John. “He can’t just sit back and watch something greater than the both of us. He needs to know that we support him. He’s going to see things that are going to be difficult for him. We’re going to do this the right way and make sure that he’s the best he can be.”
Mike entered boot camp in February 2005 and graduated in May. In 2006, he entered his first tour of duty in Iraq. Four years of active duty and two tours later, Mike returned safely to his family with the Navy Commendation Medal. As of this writing, Mike remains in the Marine Corps Reserves.
John serves as the department chair of the religion department for St. Anthony Catholic High School in San Antonio, Texas. He and Mary Lou live in Schertz, Texas.