The Bond Beyond the Uniform Vol1

By Joshua R. Sosa, US ARMY Combat Veteran 

What does the term “Band of Brothers” truly mean?  The term refers to a group of men with a strong bond of camaraderie, loyalty, and shared experience, particularly in military contexts. The phrase originates from William Shakespeare's play Henry V, specifically the famous line, "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers."  This quote is also used to describe the World War II paratroopers of Easy Company. But that was Shakespeare and Hollywood. When looking at the exact definition, it reads as such. A Band of Brothers is a group of men, growing in friendship, pursuing a common vision, sharing their victories and losses, wisdom and questions, values and interests with one another.

A strange thing happens the day a young man or woman raises their right hand and recites the oath of military service. This oath is a pledge to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, bear true faith and allegiance to it, and obey the orders of the President and superior officers. The oath is a solemn promise to serve and protect the nation and its people. Service members swear or affirm the oath, and while the commitment lasts for the term of service, it represents a lifetime commitment to the values of service, honor, and courage not only to our country, but to each other. However, these are not just words that we recite; they become the beginning of a lifetime brotherhood that has no term or expiration date. It becomes a Bond Beyond the Uniform.

In July 1993, our family had the privilege to go to Washington, D.C., and attend the United States Marines, MIKE Co. 3/1 reunion. These young men were together in the Republic of Vietnam in the time of the 1960s. Some came and went through rotation, while others never came home, but their memory lives on through each one of the brothers who stood beside them in the foxhole or in the trenches, as well as in rice patties and jungles of the Vietnam War. I had the honor to meet these men, who were characters of stories that my father would share. I saw them as older men who were wise in their years and had become successful after their time in uniform, and were no longer the superheroes of the stories but everyday men, husbands, and dads who when they were reconnected with each other, saw the 18, 19, 20 year old versions of each other and hugged each other never saying a word and shed tears of joy seeing their brothers again, and then sharing another set of tears as they shared those names that have been lost throughout the years, or those that never came home. Words will never be able to describe what I saw that day as a 13-year-old boy, and what others who never served saw along with me. It is something that only those who were there can only describe.

In talking with these men, they kept speaking of this great man who was their squad leader, who was fair, direct, and a “hard ass” (their words, not mine), but one who kept them alive. On and on, these stories kept describing this Superman like person who made such an impact on each of their lives. They spoke on how, had he not been there for them, they would not be here today to share the story with me that day.

Now, because I was only 13 at the time, I did not get to really see or hear many of the other stories that were spoken and shared within these men’s circles during that reunion. But fast forward 32 years to October 2025, the Marines of MIKE Co. 3/1 assembled one more time under the banner of the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, for some, what might be the last time. Yes, you guessed it, back in Washington, D.C., one more time again.

But this time it was different. The last time we were here, these men were not 18, 19, or 20, but in their 40s and still moving strong. This time, there were walking sticks, canes, walkers, and wheelchairs, (Oh My!) but when they glanced into each other’s eyes once again, all they saw was the 18,19, 20 version of themselves, and again without saying a word, they hugged each other and shed tears of joy seeing their brothers again, and then yet again sharing another set of tears as they shared those that have been lost throughout the years, or those that never came home.

It was like I had been here before, but this time, I was not a 13-year-old boy. I was a man, and father, but also, I was a combat veteran. This time, I GOT IT! It was as the light went on in my head and heart, and I saw something that the rest of my family would never understand because they had never lived it. I not only saw the tears, I felt them. I not only heard the stories, I lived them. I missed my Brothers and Sisters in Arms. I was taken back in the flash of a moment. The memories, the missions, the successes, and the tragedies of this business hit me all at once.  

All of a sudden, I no longer saw the men in the walkers, canes, and wheelchairs; I saw the men in the pictures who were warriors, and more importantly, heroes. Although the wars of Iraq and Afghanistan were very different from the Vietnam War, the love of our brothers is universal and can be easily translated among all combat veterans. The look, the something in their eyes, the tears, the pain, and the hurt that one holds inside is one that is truly only understood between those veterans. How do I know? Because my relationship with my father has become just that. Even though we come from two different wars, the feelings are the same. The words that described that the squad leader said to me back when I was 13 years old were describing my dad by his men. Now, years later, my daughters have met my former soldiers of the past, and they are hearing the same things making me out to be some out-of-this-world superhero, when all I remember is just doing the right thing for my Brothers and Sisters to my right and left with the expectation that they would do the same for me.

In hearing the names of the fallen of MIKE Co. 3/1, all I kept thinking of were the faces of those who served with me during my time in service and deployments who are no longer with us. I see their face, their smile, I hear their voices, and laugh. I can remember missions or things that were done back when we were training or in the rear, while we were not on mission. It all came back to me. I saw these men and heard how they loved each other, and loved my dad. They respected each other. Throughout the years, they stayed connected regardless of distance, social status, religious, political, or personal beliefs; at the end of the day, they were brothers. At that moment, and forever, they were the Marines of MIKE Company 3^rd Battalion, 1^St Marine Division, and their legacy will live on forever in the lives of the men who served, and in the hearts of those who love them and remember their stories.

From this day on, until the day that the last Marine of MIKE 3/1 falls, the guidon and garrison flag will fly strong and continue on for every brother because of The Bond Beyond the Uniform.

Mission First, PEOPLE ALWAYS!

One Team, One FIGHT, ONE FAMILY!

Very Respectfully,

Joshua R. Sosa

US Army Combat Veteran