Marine Corps Town Loses One of Its Own : Casualties: San Clemente residents feel personal loss in death of Stephen Bentzlin.

There were probably few people in this town of 40,000 who knew Stephen Bentzlin before Thursday.

He did not live here, but like many Marines stationed in nearby Camp Pendleton, he had walked the city’s streets, eaten in its restaurants and enjoyed the pier and beaches.

But when the flag at City Hall was lowered to half-staff Thursday, it was to honor Bentzlin and the 10 other Camp Pendleton soldiers killed in combat in Saudi Arabia--young men who had called San Clemente home on their free nights and weekends.

In death, he had become one of them.

“It hurt, it hurt,” tax consultant Ron Rojas said as he sipped on coffee outside Del Mar Gourmet Coffees early Thursday. “I have one nephew in Saudi Arabia and one who is planning to go. Did it hit home? There’s no question. It hit home.”

With Camp Pendleton at its back door, residents remember other, happier times when scores of young Marines would walk the El Camino Real strip in the evenings and on weekends, enjoying bars and restaurants, shopping at downtown stores or participating in community volunteer projects.

“To think one of them might have been involved (in a city volunteer project), it makes it very personal,” interim Assistant City Manager Michael L. Sorg said of Bentzlin’s death. “It’s a mixture of sadness and sympathy for the family, but also of pride. The town is close to the Marine Corps.”

Here, one’s knowledge of the war seems more intimate than in other parts of Orange County farther removed from the young men and women who have pledged allegiance to the Marine Corps. The faces of the Marines who walk their streets and eat in their restaurants are comfortably familiar, lending a sense of urgency--and foreboding--to the war being played out on television.

“I saw a guy walking in uniform on the pier yesterday and the thought occurred to me, ‘Gee, I wonder if he’s going to have to go?’ ” city Marine Safety Supervisor Jeff Harman said.

At Tommy’s Family Restaurant & Coffee Shop, where as many as 10 Marines or their families held part-time jobs at one time, manager Tony Strammiello said only one remains.

“All the fellows who we knew who frequented here, they are all gone,” Strammiello said.

The three television monitors, initially installed in the restaurant to cater to sports fans, have become the sources of war updates.

At Strammiello’s restaurant, and other businesses, discounts are offered to servicemen and their families even though business is off because of the exodus of thousands of Marines from Camp Pendleton.

“There’s no business picking up at all until this (war) is resolved,” he said.

Merchants across town tell similar stories of slow sales because of the war. The old regulars, shipped off to the Gulf, are slowly being replaced by younger Marine recruits and others fresh out of boot camp.

“Most of them now are boots. Most of them are not even old enough to come in here,” said Vicki Taylor, a bartender at Goody’s tavern, a favorite Marine hangout.

The seven barber chairs at JP’s Haircuts are empty. Owner Mike Palmer said that were it not for the senior citizens and other regular customers, business would be dead.

Still, the city shows its support.

Homes and businesses display American flags. And a couple of weeks ago, when vandals splattered red paint on yellow ribbons tied to trees along Avenida Del Mar, Ace Hardware store owner Wilma Bloom replaced the ribbons along a 2-block stretch of the road.

“I think we have seen an outburst of patriotism,” hardware store employee David Perez said.

When the news spread through town that Camp Pendleton Marines were among the first ground troops to be killed, officials at schools, City Hall and other residents scrambled to find out if, just perhaps, there was a familiar name on the list of the dead.

Doris Schwartz, owner of I Love Games Too shop, said Bentzlin and his wife had stopped in her shop several times, although she did not know them well. But even before knowing he had been killed, Schwartz said she had written his name on a yellow ribbon and hung it on her “tree of remembrance” along with 125 other names.

“People are more compassionate,” barber Jim Bramhall said. “California is a dog-eat-dog (place). Let’s face it . . . eat, or be eaten. You know how that goes. But when you get a major crisis, people tend to share things.”

John Jacob, a local resident, spoke of the concern among residents.

“People are somber,” he said. “No one wants anyone killed. It’s probably the worst solution, but it’s the only solution.”

Times staff writer Eric Lichtblau contributed to this report.