U.S. Marine Cpl. Jose A. Garibay,  who  was killed Sunday March 23,  2003, after encountering Iraqi troops  near  An Nasiriyah, Iraq, is seen in  this  undated photo provided  Tuesday, March, 25, 2003, by his  family in Costa Mesa. Garibay was  a native from Jalisco, Mexico, whose family moved to the United States  when he was a baby.  (AP Photo/Garibay family)

JACKSONVILLE, N.C. - Judy Pitchford knows all too well the anguish felt by the wives of Marines at Camp Lejeune. During the last war in Iraq, she too was glued to the TV hoping to catch a glimpse of her deployed husband. Recently, Pitchford has felt the level of despair among relatives of troops abroad swell as they learned that at least 11 Marines from Camp Lejeune have died in Iraq. "The anxiety is high," said Pitchford, a retired gunnery sergeant and now executive director of the Jacksonville USO. When spouses come to her office to chat or e-mail, she gives them advice gleaned from the last Gulf War: Turn off the TV.  "We encourage them not to sit in front of the TV. They need to get out."  Camp Lejeune is home to nearly 150,000 active duty, dependent, retiree and civilian employees. Streets and housing areas on the base are named for battles that have shed Marine blood.  The polished stone Beirut Memorial at the edge of the base honors 241 soldiers and sailors - the vast majority of them Marines - killed during a 1983 barracks bombing in Lebanon. The latest Iraq deaths are the most casualties suffered by local Marines in one day since Beirut.  Along streets in town, businesses display signs that say "God Bless our Troops" and "We Support Our Troops." Yellow ribbons flutter from truck mirrors and porch railings. American flags fly at half-mast in the city and on base.

Among the dead was Cpl. Jose A. Garibay, 21, of Orange County, Calif. Janis Toman, a resource specialist at the high school he attended in Newport Harbor, Calif., received a letter from him Monday and was putting together a package of cookies and candy when she learned he was dead. 

"It felt like a punch in the stomach," she said. "He's one of the kids I feel I made a difference in his life. He's one of the reasons you want to teach." 

In the northern Denver suburb of Thornton, the family of Lance Cpl. Thomas J. Slocum, 22, was in mourning. Slocum's stepfather, Stanley Cooper, said the Marines had turned the young man around. 

"He believed the war was necessary, and that's the same way we felt," he said. That belief made news of his stepson's death slightly easier to accept, he said. 

The mood was somber Tuesday at the Cedar Key School in Cedar Key, Fla. That is where slain Cpl. Brian Rory Buesing, 20, graduated from high school in 2000 and where his eighth-grade sister still attends. 

"He's a hero, he was doing the right thing," said Buesing's stepfather, Roger Steve. "We couldn't be more proud, I just wish it didn't have to happen." 

Retired Sgt. Maj. Joe Houle, director of the Marine Corps Museum of the Carolinas in Jacksonville, said the families of the dead Marines should take comfort in the belief that their loved ones died trying to prevent more deaths. 

At Camp Lejeune, that sentiment was mixed with a more somber sense of risk. 

"The base is infantry and the bottom line of your defense is infantry and they take the hit," said car salesman Ralph Downing, 42, whose lot sits about a mile from Lejeune's main gate.