From Military.com:
"Between 1975 and 1990, Lebanon was embroiled in a country-wide civil war that saw its rival religious, ethnic and nationalist populations form armed militias and shifting alliances. The fighting inflamed regional tensions and provoked international responses.
One of these was a peacekeeping mission of American, British, French and Italian forces called the Multinational Force in Lebanon (MNF). Deployed as part of an agreed cease-fire after a Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) attack on Israel and Israel's subsequent invasion of Lebanon in 1983, the MNF spent almost a year and a half in the Lebanese capital.
The MNF was responsible for training the Lebanese military, restoring the country's central government in Beirut and overseeing the withdrawal of all foreign forces in Lebanon. A massive suicide bomber attack on the Marine Corps Barracks in October 1983 wiped away any success the MNF could claim, and led to the eventual withdrawal of American forces in March 1984."
From The Marine Corps Times - "The BLT Building is gone!!"
This date holds special significance for me. At the time, I was serving in the US Army Reserve and sleeping comfortably in my own bed at night, every night. I reported for duty one weekend a month to Westover AFB in Chicopee, MA and went on a two week "summer camp" every year. I was not on watch 7/24/365 in some shithole country of ingrates somewhere. I had been married just a little over two months, and my wife was out of state for the funeral of her uncle Gary in Austin, Texas. When I heard the news of who was killed when the names were released I was devastated, and remember crying myself to sleep that night. I mean deep wracking sobs that left me out of breath and my eyes burning so bad they hurt to close.
Stephen was a childhood friend I had known since the fourth grade. When he first came to my elementary school, he was in a set of leg braces to stabilize his weak hips. The brace went from his waist, down both legs keeping them straight, with a cross-bar between his feet. His feet rested on steel plates with thick rubber treads for traction. He "walked" by using a pair of arm brace crutches and kind of skipped along. He was a clown and smart ass and he and I got into a lot of mischief together. In middle school he no longer needed the braces and from then on and in early high school we played Senior League baseball together. His Dad was the football and baseball coach at Rockville High School and our Senior League baseball coach. Because we went to different high schools, we lost touch, but I always heard about his athletic exploits, especially in baseball. It was no surprise that Stephen would join the Marines right out of high school.
His funeral service was an impromptu reunion of old school chums, but certainly not joyful. No one spoke to each other, just glances and silent nods of recognition. We followed the horse drawn caisson on foot from the church to the cemetery, where full military honors were rendered. It was my first exposure to Taps played at a funeral service, and is why to this day while doing a Patriot Guard mission for a perfect stranger, I get a little tug at the old heartstrings and a little choked up.
The athletic fields at Ellington High School were named in his honor a few years later with a permanent stone monument placed in one corner. I wear this patch on my biker vest in his honor.
Years later, his parents bought the house in the cul-de-sac two doors down from my parents, and his sister Nancy already lived a few houses down in the other direction. I had gone to the cemetery trying to find Stephen's grave, but could not. I went over to his dad's house to inquire where his grave was. All he would say is that Stephen had been cremated, which lead me to believe they kept his ashes. Rather than push the subject, I wished his father a good afternoon and simply left. I never had the guts to go ask his sister. Last I knew, Stephen's parents were living the retired life somewhere in Florida.
As a side note, my own cousin Steven is a Marine veteran a week younger than I am. He was part of the MNF in Beirut, Lebanon but I believe he had rotated out before the bombing. I don't know if he was in those barracks or somewhere else. But I do remember him remarking what a beautiful country those animals destroyed.
Stephen Tingley's death is the reason I get so miffed at the way people view and "celebrate" Memorial Day as the "1st Day of Summer" or National BBQ Day. It is also one of the many reasons I am a Patriot Guard Rider.
