Marine Corps News Room

http://www.tallahassee.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060709/NEWS01/607090328

By Julian Pecquet
DEMOCRAT STAFF WRITER

Their final destination: the east African coastal nation of Djibouti, where for up to a year, they'll guard a U.S. base while facing temperatures in the 120s, sandstorms, flash floods and the occasional cyclone. And that's if they're lucky.

"You never know what's going on in the world with the insurgents in (neighboring) Somalia," said Ray Haruben, father of Lance Cpl. Robert Haruben, 23. "They tell you it's a safe country. But nowhere's safe anymore."

Haruben's mother, Helen, began to cry softly as his bus departed.

"I have my faith," she said, "and lots of people praying for him."

The reservists, mostly young men from surrounding Florida and Georgia counties, are part of the E Company of the Anti-Terrorism Battalion of the 4th Marine Division. They left their Tallahassee reserve center on Roberts Avenue shortly after 6 a.m. to meet other members of their battalion at Camp Lejeune, N.C., before heading to Djibouti by fall.

They'll guard the United States' only military base south of the Sahara desert, in a country of half a million people. Djibouti is the size of Massachusetts, with an economy smaller than the city of Tallahassee's annual budget.

Djibouti acquired its independence from France in 1977. In fact, the American base the marines will guard - Camp Lemonier - used to be a French military barracks. It houses the joint U.S. forces that conduct de-mining, humanitarian and anti-terrorism missions in the Horn of Africa.

The CIA's factbook calls Djibouti "a front-line state in the global war on terrorism."

Marines who have been there call it hot.

"No rain. Totally dry. No humidity," said hospital corpsman Louis Howard, a 30-year-old Florida A&M student from Jacksonville. He has been to Djibouti before, but isn't going on the latest mission. "So it's just searing hot."

And dangerous.

Before their final goodbyes, the Marines huddled with their executive officer, Capt. Bill Blocker, who gave them some tough advice.

"Make no mistake about it, there is someone out there watching you," he told them. "And if you look tight, they are less likely to want to do something to the base."

Blocker told them always to be on the alert, a promise they in turn repeated to their families and friends as they held each other quietly in the early morning darkness.

"I'll be back before you know it. Promise," one young man told the woman he embraced.

"Be safe. You'll be all right," a Marine staying behind told his departing friend.

Lance Cpl. Martin Grogan, 24, said the life of a reservist is hard because plans have to be postponed at a moment's notice.

"Everything's on hold for at least eight or nine months," he said. "Because we're reservists, we have to live two lives - one where we can do what we want, and the other. It's hard to be both in one."

Grogan has an associate's degree from Tallahassee Community College and hoped to enter Florida State University's criminology program. Now, he'll have to wait until he gets back.

Grogan's father, Harold, is a military contractor in Iraq and a Navy retiree.

"I'm kind of used to (Harold's) comings and goings," said Martin Grogan's mother, Alice Grogan, "but I'm not used to (Martin's) leaving."

Blocker said he was proud of the reservists' sacrifices.

"These are great young men," he said. "Anyone who says the youth of America can't hack it hasn't met these Marines."