Most often Mark Tiearney doesn’t sleep.

When he does, dreams turn into nightmares where bombs explode and threaten his life.

Nothing can make him forget about his experiences in war-torn Iraq.

His father says he has seen changes in his son since he returned from Iraq.

“Lots of people go through this,” his father says. “Fighting in a war does affect soldiers. He was around death day after day.”

The beginning
After Sept. 11, junior hospitality major Mark Tiearney Jr. felt threatened. Instead of letting others deal with the situation, he joined the Marines.

“Sept. 11 was the main reason I went because we had people attack our country,” he says. “I was broke, got discharged from school for academic reasons, moved to Akron and got in debt. I figured I’d do my part.

“After the war started in 2003, I wanted to be a part of it. I had a lot of friends over there, and I wanted to see what it was like to experience it.”

Tiearney left for the Middle East on July 7, 2004. The 23-year-old had no idea how long he would be in Iraq and says he didn’t realize how much the next seven months would dramatically impact his life.

His mother, Pamela Covington, remembers how nervous she was when he told her he was leaving.

“Oh my gosh, I was shocked,” she says. “I didn’t want him to do it, but if this is what he really wants to do, what else can I do but support him?”

His older sister, Jennifer Shore, was also apprehensive about his future in the Marines.

“It was something he wanted to do for a while,” she says. “He was old enough to make his decision, but I was worried, of course. I supported him because I didn’t want him to look back and not do it because of his family. That way, he would have no regrets with what he did.”

Before flying to Iraq, Tiearney flew from his Marine base in Cherry Point, N.C., to Maine. He then traveled to Germany, followed by Kuwait — which would be his home for the next 16 days.

All troops preparing to fight in Iraq are required to first go to Kuwait, where they acclimate to the weather, he explains.

With temperatures soaring higher than 100 degrees, it was a struggle to get used to the drastic climate change.

“Hot, hot, f---ing hot,” are the first words to leave his mouth. “Can you imagine turning an oven on to 150 degrees and sitting in there every day, all day?”

After more than two weeks of constant sun and dry winds, Tiearney — along with about 50 other Marines and Navy members — left for Iraq.

Immediately after arriving at Baghdad International Airport, he was sent to a base 35 miles southeast of the city.

He was stationed with 300 Marines out of a group of about 2,200 people. The base later became known to the troops as the “triangle of death.”

“There was a lot of Iraqi-on-Iraqi crime in the area,” he explains. There had been rumors that Al-Qaeda leader Abu Musab al-Zarqawi was in the area for some time, he says.

Nervousness was unavoidable.

“We were really here now,” he recalls. “Stuff could happen.”

Daily routine
After a night’s rest in a tent housing 12 to 14 Marines, a fickle air conditioner and unreliable electricity, Tiearney worked guard duty from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.

While patrolling the base, he was advised to drink seven to eight liters of water before noon.

“During the hot season (July to October), it was hot enough that while you were sitting in the shade — just sitting with your arms hanging down — you could feel all of the sweat drip off,” he says.

The Marines were all aware of the possibility of heat exhaustion. Besides their long-sleeved shirts and pants, each person had to wear a 20-pound ceramic vest.

“They’re effective,” he says. “The vest can stop a bullet up to an AK-47 round or shrapnel.”

After his eight-hour shift, Tiearney began his administration job. Until 11 p.m., he and another Marine made sure everyone was paid and accounted for daily. He kept the Marine record book and regularly updated life insurances. “In case something happened, the correct people would be notified in a timely manner,” he says.

When he wasn’t sorting mail until midnight or 1 a.m., he found leisure through small, daily routines.

“I’d call home and shower if there was water, which there usually wasn’t, watch a DVD or go to bed,” he says. “That’s about it for free time — there wasn’t too much of it.”

His father, Mark Tiearney Sr., remembers the only contact he really had with his son was through e-mail. The two wrote back and forth daily. Tiearney Sr. says his questions to his son were always the same: How are you doing? Is everything OK? Have you had any close encounters with the enemy?

Phone calls were a rarity. Satellite phones were only available for Marines to use “once in a great while,” Tiearney Sr. recalls.

Facing Attack
Things changed when his son’s base was attacked.

“There was always a sense that something could happen,” Tiearney says. “We didn’t have a big base — anyone could attack it.”

On the morning of Aug. 1, 2004, Tiearney didn’t have guard duty and was spending his free time sleeping when he heard the blast.

“I was scared shitless,” he says. “I jumped down (underneath the bed) like a little girl.”

The base had been hit by 13 mortars. Tiearney describes mortars as small bombs that are shot out of tubes toward targets.

In addition, he could not describe the loud sounds the blasts created.

“I could hear them getting closer and louder. It was like a smack,” he says as he slaps his hands together, “and then dirt and smoke. It wasn’t close, but it was close enough.”

The attack started at the base’s supply lot. The next mortar hit near the Marines’ tents and then another hit to the supply lot.

A 15-second walk from his bed, a neighboring tent was hit. Tiearney could hear the wounded soldiers screaming inside.

After he hid beneath his bed for 15 to 20 minutes, the attacks ceased. Finally, the soldiers who had been hit could be treated.

During attacks, nothing could be done to help the wounded. Tiearney says they had to wait for the attacks to stop before assisting those who needed medical attention.

Having experienced countless attacks, Tiearney says they always left him feeling the same.

“I was personally angry and pissed off,” he says. “It was a huge adrenaline rush. I was pumped up and ready to go.

“Just getting attacked and hearing bullets fly overhead — that’s pretty damn scary.”

With his heart pumping and anger level rising, Tiearney says nothing usually happened after the base was attacked. The Iraqis tended to leave immediately afterward.

Necessities
Keeping himself together emotionally was never an issue. Tiearney was around his fellow Marines every day. This, he says, helped him deal with being away from home.

“Everyone was in the same shit together,” he explains. “People had their own problems at home. I had two friends whose wives had babies when they were gone. We supported each other and joked around.”

His friends gave him support, but Tiearney says he missed being home, seeing friends and family and “the everyday luxuries of life.”

More than anything, he says he missed football. He loves the sport and was upset he missed the entire college football season.

He was homesick “every damn day,” he says. Although he was able to e-mail his friends and family often, he tried not to write letters home.

After finding out his father had prostate cancer, Tiearney began calling home more frequently.

Because his administration job gave him regular access to computers, he was able to e-mail his family daily.

Covington says she never discussed anything too serious with her son. The two talked about “general, lighthearted things,” such as how they were doing and what was going on in the United States.

One of the things that kept him happy was the packages he received from his loved ones. His parents sent him boxes of cigarettes, chewing tobacco, magazines and snack items such as jerky and peanuts.

Out of all the goods he received, baby wipes were an item all the Marines requested.

Tiearney smiles as he recalls the popularity of the wipes. The Marines’ source of water was a canal near their base. The Iraqis who lived nearby drank the water and used it as a sewer.

In addition, the pumps from the base to the camp frequently broke, leaving them waterless.

Because it was a rarity, they requested the wipes so they could stay clean.

Before the base’s mess hall was completed, dinner options were rare. Tiearney could choose between two meals throughout the day: Box A or Box B. Every meal was identical. Each contained meat; crackers or wheat bread; cheese, peanut butter or jelly; mixed fruit or apple sauce; gum and a spoon.

When the mess hall was finished, more food was added to the menu. The hall regularly served hot dogs, hamburgers, ice cream and lemonade, though Tiearney complained poultry was always a main dish.

“I swear every night was chicken,” he says. “There was fried chicken, teriyaki chicken and baked chicken.”

Departure
In early January 2005, Tiearney was told he would be going home within a week. His unit was soon to be replaced by the 155th Mississippi National Guard Unit.

On Feb. 6, 2005, he arrived at his base in Cherry Point, N.C. and traveled by bus to Marine Corp Base Camp Lejeune, N.C.

After unloading his gear and turning in his weapons, Tiearney met his old roommate, Charles Miranda.

With a smile, he recalls drinking a 12-pack of Corona while watching the Eagles lose to the Patriots in Super Bowl XXXIX.

The next day, Shore drove down to his base to visit him. A mother of five children, she couldn’t stay with her brother for the day because she had her family to tend to.

“I drove straight to North Carolina and saw him for an hour,” she says. “It was spur of the moment — I didn’t even have a change of clothes. I just wanted to see him, hug him, touch him and make sure he was OK.”

In March, he was able to return to his home in Streetsboro to reunite with friends and family.

“It was such a relief to see him,” Covington says. “I was so glad he came home in one piece.”

His father’s reaction was identical.

“I was in the hospital when he came back,” he says. “He called me and said he was back. It was a sudden rush of relief and joy. It was great to know he was back in the States.”

Although he was happy to see all of his loved ones, Tiearney says he never really wanted to share his experiences in Iraq with anyone.

“I just wanted to get back, be by myself for a while and think about everything,” he explains.

Reflection
Eighteen months later, Tiearney says he is happy he joined the Marines and “made a small contribution to the country.”

He says he believes because the United States got itself into the war, it needs to be there to finish what it started.

He says he expects Iraq to one day be able to govern itself, but the new Iraqi government needs to learn to run itself the way it sees fit. With continuous fighting between the Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds, he says it will take a while for things to fall into place.

Looking back on his seven-month experience is somewhat difficult for him. Now that he has been home for more than a year, he says it’s hard not to think about going back into service.

“I think about it every day,” he says. “I try not to, but sometimes I feel like I didn’t finish my job. I feel a need to be over there with my brothers and sisters — we’re like a big family. I lived, worked and saw these people every day.”

Tiearney says he witnessed a lot of horrific events that make it hard to return to his normal life back in the United States.

He was at a loss of words to describe how it felt to lose his friends in the war. While shaking his head “no,” he briefly recounts the events that have really made an impact on the person he is today.

“I saw vehicles blow up,” he says. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

Although he says he never saw someone killed, the memory of the deaths of his fellow soldiers is enough to keep him silent.

Tiearney says he doesn’t know if he’ll ever return to the normal life he lived before fighting in Iraq. With mixed emotions about the war, desires to go back and his second start at Kent State, he’s uncertain about what his next steps will be, but says he hopes to regain some of life’s normalcy he once took for granted.

“I was used to military life,” he says. “I just got out, and I’m still not used to my life now. I think it’s going to take a while to adjust to real life.”

Katie Alberti is a senior magazine journalism major. This is her second story for The Burr.