http://articles.latimes.com/2012/jan/03/local/la-me-church-state-20120103
The controversial
hilltop memorial at Camp Pendleton honors two enlisted men and two officers,
three of whom helped erect a cross there in 2003 before going to Iraq.
Scott Radetski, 49, a retired Navy chaplain; Sgt. Josue
Magana, 32; and… (Rick Loomis, Los Angeles Times)
Reporting from San Diego — In the early days of the U.S.
battle with the Sunni insurgency in Iraq, the four Marines from Camp Pendleton
were among those troops on the front lines in Anbar province.
The two enlisted Marines would not survive those violent
days in the spring of 2004: one was killed by "friendly fire" when a
mortar round went awry and one was mortally wounded while hurling a grenade to
repel an enemy assault, bravery for which he was posthumously awarded the Silver
Star.
Now the four — Lance Cpls. Robert Zurheide and Aaron
Austin, and Majs. Douglas Zembiec and Ray Mendoza — are the focal point of a
legal dispute about how best to honor their service and sacrifice, and that of
other U.S. military personnel killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
On Veterans Day, a retired Navy chaplain — who served
with Zurheide, Austin, Zembiec and Mendoza with the 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine
Regiment — led a small group of Marines and family members up a steep, rugged
hill at Camp Pendleton to plant a 13-foot tall cross in their memory. No one
informed the chain of command or asked for permission.
Zurheide, Zembiec and Mendoza had been among those
Marines who planted a cross in the same spot in 2003 before the battalion
deployed to Iraq.
In the years after the deaths, Marine "grunts''
adopted the hill as a place to leave messages in remembrance of those killed in
action, including coins, medals, dog tags, and bits of sand and dirt brought
back from distant battlefields.
The cross was destroyed by a brush fire in 2007. A
replacement was raised in 2008, without news coverage. When a second cross was
erected on Veterans Day, a story in The Times told of the cross and its meaning
to Marines.
Within days, two groups petitioned the Marine Corps to
take down the crosses as a violation of the constitutional separation of church
and state. Two other groups took the opposite stance.
Rep. Duncan Hunter (R-Alpine), who served with the
battalion in Fallouja, urged the Marines to leave the cross alone. The American
Civil Liberties Union, although not directly involved in the dispute, said it
hopes the Marines will "follow the law."
"The legal test is whether from the perspective of a
reasonable observer this would be perceived as government endorsement of
religion,'' said Erwin Chemerinsky, founding dean of the law school at UC
Irvine and a constitutional scholar.
The cross, Chemerinsky noted, is an inherently Christian
symbol. But an argument could be made that because the cross is not visible to
the public and that the only people who see it are Marines, it does not serve a
religious purpose but rather a reminder to Marines of those who have fallen in
combat, he said.
"My own sense is that a cross by itself on a
military base violates" the Constitution, Chemerinsky said. "But
whether a court will see it that way is uncertain."
The colonel in charge of Camp Pendleton has sent an
undisclosed recommendation about the cross to Marine Corps headquarters, where
the issue is being studied by lawyers and generals. A decision is expected
within weeks.
So who were these four Marines and why, years after their
deaths, do Marines feel it important that they be remembered?
Austin, 21, had joined the Marine Corps after graduating
from high school in rural Texas. He loved parties and football but quit the team
in solidarity when his cousin had a run-in with the coach.
Two days before he was killed in a firefight, Austin told
The Times: "There's no place I'd rather be than here with my Marines. I'll
always remember this time."
When Marines from the battalion were attacked from three
sides, Austin helped rescue the wounded and led the Marines to place a heavy
machine gun on a rooftop.
Wounded several times by AK-47 fire, he refused to be
evacuated and instead moved into the open to throw a grenade as the enemy surged
within 20 meters.
"Of all the Marines in Two-One, it's Austin who
brings tears to my eyes when I think of him," said Lt. Col. Brandon
McGowan, who was the executive officer. "He wasn't even a squad leader but
his incredible bravery in getting that machine gun up there and rallying the
other troops, I'm sure saved the entire platoon."
Zembiec, a company commander, received the Bronze Star
for bravery during the same fight in Fallouja. At one point he jumped on top of
a tank, braving enemy fire to direct his Marines.
After Fallouja, the Naval Academy graduate deployed to
Afghanistan and, after a restive tour at the Pentagon, returned to Iraq. He was
34 when he was killed.
"He radiated that fearlessness; that 'I can
accomplish anything, anytime, you don't have to ask twice,' " said Master
Sgt. Kenneth Cadena, who served with Zembiec in Kosovo. "That hill
represents more than a cross, it represents the guts to accomplish something,
like Zembiec did."
Then-Defense Secretary Robert Gates, normally a stoic
presence, was near tears when he remembered Zembiec during a speech as "an
unabashed and unashamed warrior."
Zurheide, 20, of Tucson, had served in the 2003 assault
on Baghdad. When he redeployed in 2004, he had a premonition that he would not
survive, although he never shared that fear with other Marines.
As insurgents sought one night to encircle the Marine
position, Zurheide was killed by a Marine mortar that had been
"dialed-in" to the wrong position.
After his death, other Marines "fought even harder
and with the heavy heart of the memory of Zurheide in our thoughts," said
Sgt. Major William Skiles, who was a company first sergeant with the battalion.
"He had carried pride and honor with him as he went into battle."
Two weeks after his death, his widow, Elena, gave birth
to their only child, Robbie Jr. Elena Zurheide and Mendoza's widow, Karen, were
among the group that pulled the cross up the hill on Veterans Day.
Mendoza, 37, had just taken over command of a battalion
rifle company when he was killed. He was leading his Marines in looking for a
spot to attack the enemy near Al Qaim when he stepped on a buried bomb.
At 6-foot-2 and 220 pounds, Mendoza had been a champion
wrestler at Ohio State. In his last conversation with his wife from Iraq, he
asked her to visit the injured Marines in the hospital at Camp Pendleton.
"He was a big, tough guy who was not going to let
anything happen to anyone if he had anything to do about it," said Lt.
Col. Joseph Clearfield, who was operations officer for the battalion in Fallouja.
"The world was a better place with him in it."
After Mendoza's funeral in Oceanside, Marines at Camp
Pendleton organized a three-mile "motivational hump" in his honor up
a steep, rugged hill with a cross at the top.
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