Coming to Terms with the Death of a Marine

To those of us who knew and admired him, Ray Mendoza seemed indestructible. He was too big, too strong, too quietly confident and too much of a natural leader to be brought down like other men.

But war respects none of those qualities.

Mendoza, 37, a major in the Marine Corps from Camp Pendleton, was killed in Iraq three weeks ago while leading his troops into combat.

"If you thought anyone could stare down death and beat it, it was Ray," Lt. Col. Robert G. Oltman, Mendoza's battalion commander, e-mailed me from Iraq.

"He was larger than life. No one, including me, ever thought Ray would not come back," he wrote.

After four tours as an embedded reporter -- one in Afghanistan, three in Iraq -- I know a fair number of Marines. Some give off an aura of vulnerability or even impending tragedy. Some are obvious risk-takers. And many are so achingly young, so naive despite their high spirits and salty vocabulary, that I immediately worry about their survival.

When I hear that any Marine has been killed, I can sense the grief that has descended on the family and the corps. I'm always saddened but rarely surprised.

Only once has my reaction been of disbelief: No, not him. It can't be. Not Ray Mendoza.

Mine was a common reaction. A condolence website for his family is filled with expressions of incredulity.

"He was a man we all thought to be bullet-proof," Capt. John Griffin said in his eulogy at Mendoza's funeral at a Catholic church in Oceanside.

At 6 feet 2 and 225 pounds, Mendoza had been a star wrestler at Ohio State in the 1990s and, as a Marine, an alternate on the 1996 Olympic team. His overtime victory over a reigning champ in the 1993 Big Ten tournament remains one of the Buckeye program's most thrilling moments.

The wrestling program is putting together an inspirational video featuring Mendoza's win that day. The school's football team wore his initials on their helmets during the Nov. 19 Michigan game as a show of respect.

"I'm just not ready to say goodbye to Ray Mendoza yet," said Buckeyes' wrestling coach Russ Hellickson, his voice quavering.

During the fight for Fallouja in April 2004, Mendoza's very presence seemed to provide a sense of safety to those around him.

It was a widely held belief among the 1,100 Marines of the 2nd battalion, 1st regiment, 1st Marine Division that Mendoza, then a captain, was the strongest, toughest Marine of them all.