Category: Marine Corps Stories

A group of Marines with the Special Purpose Marine Air-Ground Task Force Detroit unveiled the mural they’ve been painting for Marine Week Detroit on Sept. 9, 2017.

The mural was painted on the side of the Marine Corps League, Montford Point Detachment 158 building in Detroit, Mich. Five Marines put over a hundred hours of work into the completion of the mural. The mural depicts the history and accomplishments of the Montford Point Marines, who fought in a segregated Marine Corps from 1942 through 1949.

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My Uncle, PFC Harold W. Jinright fought in the battle at Chosin Reservoir. This amazing man is 100% a Marine. “Gunny” as his son calls him, is a kind, thoughtful, sharp witted man with an awesome sense of humor and the most patriot human I have ever met.
Back in the day, PFC Jinright and his wife called each other Mr. & Mrs. Jones. Now that I am older, I changed that to Uncle Jones “Jonsey”, much to his delight. A few years ago Jonsey returned to Quantico and a photo was taken of him in front of his barracks as it was in 1949. I was able to combine the two which made a beautiful memory for all of us. Jonsey also returned later this year for one more OOHAH!
In October, Jonsey is coming from El Monte CA to Surprise AZ to feast on some of his great niece’s chili and cornbread. Then in November he will be attending his 90th birthday party where he prefers to have a Marine theme and photo’s because he is, and always will be, a Marine.
It is with much pride and love that I type these words and memories. My heart breaks and I usually shed some tears as I try to gather info and photos to help Jonsey with his project requests. The Chosin Few as well as the millions that share his love of our country and give so very much to us are the true meanings behind the word Hero’s.
PFC Harold W. Jinright was medevacked to Japan in December 1950 with severe frostbite that affects him greatly to this day. He along with so many of his fellow Marines suffered more than most of us can even imagine and so many made the ultimate sacrifice. PFC Jinright refuses to take praise for his bravery and sacrifice and will laugh and say his only job at the Chosin Reservoir was to make snow balls for the weapons to shoot at the enemy.
But that’s ok; I have enough pride for the both of us. My eternal gratitude to all of you that have the courage and strength to do the many things you have to do to protect us. Thank you for your service.
I am attaching two photos. The one with the weapons and Marine’s was taken at Quantico. The Marine in the middle, hands on hips with the don’t mess with the Marine’s look on his face is my Marine, PFC Harold W. Jinright. The photo taken in 1949 by his barrack’s, he is on the right.

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This true story appears in my book “SH*TBIRD! How I Learned to Love The Corps” and illustrates how our Drill Instructors kept us on our toes. The longest month of my life was my first three days of boot camp. It seemed
virtually impossible to say anything to a DI that was correct in his eyes, unless, of
course, you were agreeing with his assessment that you were possibly the
dumbest, most worthless specimen that had ever crapped between a pair of
boondockers. This was one of the first things we learned. In fact, sometimes there
just wasn’t a “correct” answer.
We had found out within minutes of arriving at MCRD that just about any
infraction, whether real or imagined, was punishable by death. Well, maybe not
death itself, but you still thought you were in Hell. Actually one DI told us that it
wasn’t legal for him to kill us but there was no statute keeping him from making
us wish he would and just get it over with. So, when a DI asked a question a
wrong answer would usually be accompanied by summary judgment and
punishment.
Either the second or third day – with so little sleep you couldn’t tell when one
ended or the next started – we were in formation waiting to do something or
other. Not wanting to waste any time our DI kept us at attention while he
meandered between the ranks raising hell with first one boot and then another.
He was in the process of chewing on a recruit in the rank in front of mine when a
guy to my right, instead of holding “eyes front”, let his eyeballs shift to the action.
Big mistake! The DI forgot about the guy he had been working over and charged
through to confront the miscreant.
“What the f**k were you looking at, Sh*tbird?!!” He’s got his face shoved within
an inch of the recruit’s face.
“Sir! Nothing, Sir!”
“Bullsh*t!! You were looking at me, weren’t you?”
Busted. “Sir! Yes, Sir!”
“Why were you staring at me, Sh*tbird? Because you like me? Is that it?”
The recruit is nervous now. “Sir! No, Sir!”
The DI straightens up, the anger replaced by a quizzical look, a little hurt in his
voice. “What do you mean, you don’t like me? Why not? What’s not to like?” He
lifts his arms up, palms up and turns a circle. “Is it the way I dress?”
Now only a fool is going to criticize that uniform. “Sir! No, Sir!”
“So you like the way I dress?”
“Sir! Yes Sir!”
“And there’s no other reason you don’t like me?” A little edge is back in his voice.
“Sir! No, Sir!”
The Sergeant smiles. “So, you do like me?”
“Sir! Yes, Sir!”
Now a snarl. “Well, likin’ leads to lovin’, a**hole. And lovin’ leads to f**kin’! Do
you believe you’re going to f**k me, you worthless piece of sh*t?!!!
Thoroughly confused, the recruit croaks “Sir! No, Sir!”
The Sergeant is shocked again. “Why the hell not? What have I done? What
happened to likin’ and lovin’? Do you think you’re too damned good for me?”
The boot’s head is spinning. “Sir! No, Sir!”
“So, you DO think you would f**k me?”
“Sir! No, Sir!”
A malevolent look comes over the Sergeant’s face. “Well, you got that right, sh*t-
for-brains! If anybody around here is going to get f**ked over, it sure as hell ain’t
going to be me. And the next time I see you eyeballin’ this…” and he sweeps with
both hands down his body, “instead of having your eyes forward where they
belong, I will f**k over you and there ain’t gonna be any romance in it! Are we
clear?”
“Sir! Yes, Sir!”
Like I said, no correct answers.

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Captain Trautwein was the C.O. of Charlie Co., 1/1 in late 1968. I arrived in country in early October 1968 and this story takes place during my first day out in field, Dodge City south of Da Nang. As we were sweeping through knee high grass and bushy tree lines we came under fire from a tree line across a grassy field. Captain Troutwein shouted for the company to move forward to a dike in the middle of the field. That grassy field had 8 inches of water on either side of the dike and we proceeded to lay down in the water behind the dike. For several minutes 5 or 6 Viet Cong raked us with AK fire. Suddenly, Captain Trautwein stood up, calm as a cucumber. Now, you need to know about Captain Trautwein. He was an enlistedman in World War II and Korea. He has been promoted to officer ranks sometime between Korea and Vietnam. From my vantage point behind the ten inch dike laying in 8 inches of water, the Captain was silhouetted against the morning sun. He withdrew his .45 and yelled, “Sergeants, get you men on their feet and prepare to assault!” We all thought, “WHAT THE H___?” But, all the sergeants got up and started yelling and kicking Marines. “Get on you feet!” The Marines around me jumped to their feet and started hooping and hollering like crazy indians, so I followed suit. Then, just as calmly as when he stood up, Captain Trautwein bellowed, “Assault!” We lit up that treeline with everything we had, as fast as we could. When we got to the treeline we found only sandal prints and expended cartridges. Months later when recounting this story to some new arrivals, one of the Marines who was present that day explained what I had missed. As we swept we had pre-arranged artillery missions planned all around us. In particular, if we were hit, we would call in a barrage that rolled towards us upon the enemy. Captain Trautwein knew this, but more importantly so did the Viet Cong. They knew they only had 6 or 7 minutes to give us their best shot before artillery started raining down on them. So, when Captain Trautwein stood up the Viet Cong had already started running to our flanks away from the artillery. That assault was a military necessity and also a moral building stagecraft. Anyway, when we reached the treeline we were elated and high on adrenaline. Thank you, Captain Trautwein!

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I went through boot camp back in 1984, and was assigned to 3rd Bn, Plt 3050. We had moved out to the rifle range and were staying at the barracks out there. One day while we were out there we were all standing on line in front of our racks while the Senior DI walked down the squad bay . Standing directly across from me was recruit Seals. Unknown to me at that time was that recruit Seals had a lower plate of false teeth. As the Senior DI (S/Sgt Wallace) passed by in front of me, and looking in my direction. Recruit Seals started flicking his false teeth out of his mouth. The sight of this caused me to laugh, and also caused recruits Reese and Elison to laugh as they were standing on either side of me and could see what Seals was doing in their peripheral vision. S/Sgt Wallace then stopped and asked why I was laughing and I responded, “Sir, no reason sir”. He also asked Reese and Elison and got the same reply. Needless to say we were sent to the Quarterdeck for remedial PT. The next day, same scenario, S/Sgt Wallace walking down the squad bay and recruit Seals does the same thing causing me, Reese, and Elison to start laughing again. Again asked why we are laughing and again told him “Sir, no reason sir”. Once again sent to Quarterdeck for an even longer remedial PT session. After that session we went back to recruit Seals and asked him to stop as we were tired of getting remedial PT from him making us laugh. Well the next day same scenario. S/Sgt Wallace is walking down the squad bay and we are all standing on line. Recruit Seals was not smart enough to quit while he was ahead and just as the Senior DI passed me, he spun around and caught recruit Seals with his fake teeth hanging out of his mouth. Once again I started laughing, as did Elison and Reese. At the sight of Seals standing there with his teeth hanging out, S/Sgt Wallace put his head down so the brim of his cover would conceal the fact he was laughing, he walked straight back to the DI hut. After several minutes he reemerged (I assume he needed a couple minutes to compose himself and get his military bearing back) he called recruit Seals to the Quarterdeck for some remedial PT. After that there were no more such incident from recruit Seals.

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About a month ago, Staff Sgt. Dustin Gill’s life changed forever. His day started off as planned; him and his wife Cynthia packed their luggage and hit the road for their honeymoon cruise. It was a predictable drive on Interstate 26, until the couple hit dead stop traffic.

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Stop me if you heard this one before, I was with Golf Co., 2Bn. 5th. Marines out of An Hoa. We were resupplied in the field with fresh water that came in BIG WHITE JUGS that would glow at night. I S—T you not! They could be seen for miles and miles at night. We had to take turns humping the things because they were so bright during night movements. Then, the C.O. (Lt.) gets his orders for flight training and leaves the bush. His replacement was Cpt. Darling and there was a lot of talk about him being a Grunt Officer. One of the changes he ordered is no more resupply of fresh water—which tasted bad anyways. He explained that we would get our water from the wells and so forth in the bush and for the most part we did. The few times during the summer that we could not find a water source; we learned something about ourselves and what we were willing to do to deal with our thirst. Yes, we drank some very disgusting water and it’s true some of us got some strange affects from the water but we never had to carry a target on our backs. Which was a fair trade as far as we were concern—Cpt. Darling never took unnecessary risk with our lives and that was “o.k. in my book” if you know what I mean…..Semper Fi Marines!!

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On August 8, 1966 a four man recon team from the First Force Recon Battalion was inserted just below the DMZ in northern Quang Tri province. The team went by the name Groucho Marx and was led by Staff Sergeant Billy M. Donaldson. They were eventually discovered and trapped by the NVA. A reaction force from Echo Company, Second Battalion, Fourth Marines was sent to the rescue and part of that unit was also surrounded and trapped. A vicious over night fight ensued and eventually helicopters from HMM-265 and VMO-2 were involved. During the fight one Marine, Howard V. Lee, earned the Medal of Honor. Four Marines, including Donaldson, earned the Navy Cross, one the Silver Star and six the Bronze Star. Navy Corpsman Nicholas Tarzia also earned the Silver Star. Many were wounded and 5 Marines lost their lives. This story is thoroughly researched and included in my book Marines, Medals and Vietnam.

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I joined the Marine Corps in June of 1965 and graduated from Platoon # 342, 3rd Battalion in September of that year. After Advanced Infantry Training at Camp Geiger, I was on my way home for leave, looking forward to seeing my girl and old friends. I didn’t realize that the recruiter in my hometown of Norristown Pennsylvania, had been reporting my progress to several high school classmates that had expressed interest in joining the Corps. Attending a high school dance with the girl I was dating at the time, I ran into one of them Michael Baronowski, or Mike as I had known him since the 6th grade, already knew about my prowess on the rifle range and that I had been promoted meritoriously at graduation, but he wanted to know more. We talked briefly about the Corps and I shared my experiences with him and told him what I thought. He thanked me and we shook hands and went our separate ways. Fast forward to the summer of 1966. I was walking thru Dogpatch on my way back from the Hill 327 PX outside of Danang to the Marine Base at Marble Mountain. It was a tropical hot, dusty afternoon and I was doing my best to keep out of the way of the never-ending stream of military traffic that was passing within an arm’s length as I made my way along the narrow shoulder between the gravel edge and the hooches clustered along the right of way. Suddenly, I became aware of a vehicle coming up fast behind me and sliding on the gravel as the driver braked hard, stopping a few feet from where I stood. At first, I could only make out the driver’s goggles as he sat there, the dust settling around us. Then I saw that big, wide smile and I knew it was Mike. How he ever recognized me from behind on that dusty, crowded street, thousands of miles from home, I’ll never know. But there he was. I jumped in and we pulled back into the never ending line of military traffic and headed for the gate at Marble Mountain. On the way, we talked about everything and laughed and joked. I commented on the dusty condition of his M-14 which lay bouncing between the seats. He jokingly told me he didn’t use it. Then reached under his seat and pulled out an open box of M-26 frag grenades. That was Mike, always making fun of every situation. When we arrived at the gate, I asked him to stay for chow, but he had to get back to his outfit that was out by the river south of Marble Mountain. We agreed that I would try to get out to his unit the next off duty time I had and we parted. A week later I was hitchhiking down the road past the Marble Mountain and ran into a Marine roadblock. An armor company was performing a search and destroy and I watched the tanks tearing around back and forth across the road for a half hour or so before heading back to MAG 16. The next opportunity to catch up to Mike didn’t come for a few weeks and I doubted his outfit would still be there, but I was preparing to give it a shot when I came back to my hooch and found the mail man had left several of my hometown Newspapers on my bunk. They were always out of date, but news from home was always welcome, so I began to unwrap each one. The last one had Mike’s picture on the front page. He’d been killed in action. I always wanted to go to Mike’s family and tell them about our last meeting, but I never did. I did find out that National Public Radio had done a program about Mike in their “All Things Considered” format, titled “Lost & Found Sound”. I have the disc which is titled, “National Public Radio’s Broadcast Of The Vietnam Tapes of Lance Corporal Michael A. Baronowski”.. Mike’s picture is on the cover with that same grin I saw so many years ago on a dusty road in place so far away.

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