The Lost, Lamented Marine

By Adam Pitluk/El Paso

Martin Terrazas Jr. and his younger brother Miguel used to work the counters together at Ben's Tacos, the combination eatery and convenience store owned by their family on Delta Street in El Paso, Texas. For $3, you get half a dozen tacos; a dollar gets you a comb or a pair of die. It was Terrazas tradition to stand behind the counter at Ben's: Martin and Miguel's father, uncles and cousins worked there, wearing the store uniform, a full-length orange apron. There was another family tradition: the military. Grandfather Jorge is an Army vet. Uncle Luis was a Marine; Uncle Thomas Hance is on his second tour of duty in Iraq. The youngest of the Terrazas brothers, Andres, 14, says he wants to join the Marines. Martin would have joined too, but a bum shoulder kept him out. Miguel died a Marine on Nov. 19, 2005, in the Iraqi town of Haditha.

It was Miguel's death, the result of an improvised explosive device set by insurgents, that appears to have led to the killings now under investigation. Miguel was Martin's best friend, but Miguel had other brothers, the Marines of Kilo Company. "They were like another family to him," says Martin, who reveled in the stories of Miguel and his military comrades. On nights off from training at Camp Pendleton, Calif., Miguel and his fellow Marines would carouse along the winding alleys of Tijuana, across the border in Mexico. Sometimes Miguel would get lost, especially when the cervezas flowed and the senoritas beckoned. But he always knew to call Martin on a cell phone to let him know where he was, and his comrades would know to call Martin to track down Miguel. Martin says he took an "instant liking" to the boys of Kilo Company.

Miguel also called Martin from Iraq. But the stories from that country were of close calls and near Solomonic decisions. On one occasion, Miguel had to use his rifle to pick off an insurgent who had a young boy standing next to him. He killed the rebel without hurting the boy. On a search-and-destroy mission in Fallujah, Miguel and Kilo Company were on a house-to-house search for insurgents and came across children sleeping next to their parents, says Martin, "except for this one guy who was working on something in the corner. My brother ordered him to turn around and put his hands up. The man turned and said, 'No, mister, no,' but he kept reaching behind him. So my brother shot him. It turns out that the man was reaching for a remote to detonate four mortars he'd strung together."

Miguel spoke to his brother just days before he died. Martin says Miguel was troubled by something but couldn't go into it over the phone. On Nov. 19, Martin felt ill and threw up; then he received a phone call to head to his grandfather's house. "I knew even before I got there," he says. His grandfather Jorge has a makeshift shrine to Miguel in what was once the young man's bedroom. In it is a quilt the Marines presented to Miguel's family at Camp Pendleton as a tribute to him. "My wife cries all the time now," says the 65-year-old. "It's breaking her heart what they're saying about those Marines." Jorge and his wife don't follow the news much anymore--they think the Marines are being unfairly tried by the media. It makes them feel as if they are losing Miguel over and over again.