Tribute 2014 Corvette Stingray Z51
I spent 14 years in the Marine Corps from 1965 to 1979. Now, as the Sr. Vice Commandant of the Marine Corps League (MCL), MGySgt John W. Zaengle Detachment in Glenside, Pa, I wanted my Vette to be "A Tribute To Our Marine Corps Veterans." Also to use the car at our local car shows to draw attention to the MCL and what we do Marines, their families and veterans.
(Also, had 22 years in Air National Guard.)
Back in April 2013 I put my deposit down on a 2014 Corvette. Of course I was on an allocation list at my dealership in Jenkintown, Pa. I've dealt with them since the 80's and refused to go to another dealership. This was a very special order. Since there was a restriction on the Z51 option, I couldn't even get my order into the system.
The car show season was ramping up, so I contacted an Executive Vice President at General Motors & explained my situation and why I was trying to get the car. The Executive Vice President's office, the Zone Manager, and my dealership all worked together. Everyone was extremely professional and a pleasure to work with. They constantly kept me updated on the progress of my order.
I was able to get the car ordered and delivered in about 6-8 weeks. With all the options I requested, including the Z51 option and the override for the interior color.
The Corvette "Tribute To Our Marine Corps Veterans" is a special color combination:
1. Laguna Blue, for the Marine Corps dress blue uniform.
2. With dual Crystal Red racing stripes, for the Red Blood stripes that are down each side of the dress blues trousers.
3. Red Interior is to honor those Marines that have shed their blood in defense of our country.
At every show or on the road, people, young and old are taken back by the beauty of the car. It has proven to be the perfect tribute to our Marines.
As of a couple days ago I found that this car is one of 31 - Z51 optioned 2014 Corvettes with dual Crystal Red racing stripes. I'm waiting for the National Corvette Museum to let me know if this is the only one in the Laguna Blue with dual Crystal Red racing stripes & Red/Black Interior color combination. I have to call them back next week to see if this a 1 of 1 car.
I've included a some pictures for you.
Marine Corps League
Sr. Vice Commandant
MGySgt. John W. Zaengle Detachment
When I was in boot Platoon 370 at San Diego (65), one of the Staff DIs was Sgt. McGee. He was crabby most of the time, but displayed a tremendous sense of humor, always at our expense, of course.
He would barely whisper "Get on the road" out of his office door. Someone in the first billet would hear the order and frantically yell it down the line. Since we stumbled into formation in cluster f-ck fashion, he'd punish us with a "Get in the billets" followed immediately by "Get your footlockers and get on the road." Then, "Get in the billets, get on the road, get in the billets, get on the road, girls we're gonna play "racetrack." "Racetrack" entailed gathering a squad of recruits with footlockers into one of those squares of ice plants on either side of the entrances to each billet. We all had busted knuckles, but I can't help but chuckle to myself when I think of how foolish we must have looked. Truth is, that's my kind of humor and "racetrack" is one of my fondest Marine memories.
James M. Robinson
I was stationed with Mike Company, 3rd Bn, 9th Marines at Camp Sukiran, Okinawa (not Okinawa, Japan) in 1958. Our Staff NCO's had single rooms in the barracks.
One night, one of our Sgts (E-4) had a little too much to drink out in the ville. Upon his return to his squad bay on the second deck in the barracks, he had to use the head. So, he enters the head, and makes use of the urinal. Unfortunately, the Company Gunny's room was right next door to the head and he had gone in the wrong door. The "urinal" turned out to be the Gunny's blanket folded over a radiator. Next morning, in company formation, the Gunny calls out "Sgt Matt-----, front and center. Seems like he had a special assignment for him.
Capt Art Kidd
Marine Football Program
On the Marine Football Program story (Jim Grimes), I recognized one of the names immediately.
Jim Weatherall, who played ball here locally in White Deer, TX, was the Outland Trophy winner in 1951 at Oklahoma, and went on to play a number of years in the NFL with Detroit, Philly, and the Redskins. He is also a member of the College Football Hall of Fame.
Given the size (and obviously the conditioning, being Marines) of these men in that era, these must have been some pretty darn good football teams.
Dr J B Boren â€‹
Here's your challenge for the day!
At Parris Island in 1959 we held a laundry day about once a week... Go to the wash rack behind our barracks and be equipped with the following gear: galvanized bucket, scrub brush, soap bar, and tie-ties.
Tie-ties were used to attach cleaned items to the overhead drying lines (not like the clothes pins that mother used). After an informal search for them they seem to be an item only used at P I and anyone after us Old Corps haven't even heard of such a thing (Do recruits now have commercial laundry services, or electric washing machines, or what?).
This image was posted last week on the Sgt Grit Facebook page. The image displays recruits at MCRD San Diego standing at parade rest during a Battalion Commander's inspection. The text on the image reads "MARINES STAND... Serve with, Tactfulness, Accountability, Nobility, and Discipline."
Here are some of the comments left by fans about this post:
Tommy Hicks - M16 they will never feel what the recoil of a M14 feels like.
Daniel Grgurich - I love the 14, what better weapon to take out your enemies at 800 yards.
Beverly Hoyt Holmes - guy in second rank has his knees locked :)
Kenneth Sr Scruggs - Only wore my barracks cover twice,the rest of my tour,I wore the p-ss cover.
Loren Petty Not - so sure about the tact. I have known many tactless Marines, and am probably one of them.
Raymond M. Muro - I am a U.S. Marine, I am the measure against which all others fall short.
View more comments about this post on the Sgt Grit Facebook Page.
I Knew I Was An SOB
I remember Boot Camp, but I don't remember being beaten, but I do remember Marching until I thought I would die, I remember marching one night after midnight, carrying my bucket full of sand until I thought my arm would fall off. But I wasn't going to give up. I was only 17 years old and when I graduated from Boot Camp, the DI came to me and said; "I didn't think you would make it, you were young, dumb and stupid to boot. I still don't think you will make it!"
All this gave me incentive and I made it but I busted my asz to do it. When I received my emblems I was the proudest SOB in the world (I knew I was an SOB because I was called that so many times in the past few weeks). After further training I finally was sent overseas and I couldn't wait to go into battle. Everyone thought I looked too young and I was given every Sh-t job until finally somehow I slipped through the knot hole and ended up on a ship, an APA. Then somehow me and three other guys had our records lost and no one knew what to do with us.
Finally a smart Clerk/typist or 1st Sgt. knew what to do and got us going and I ended up on Guam on the day it was secured, August 30th, 1944. Instead of fighting I worked my Butt Off loading and unloading supplies, the only enemy I met or saw were Dead and there must have been at least three enemy captured and behind barbed wire clad only in loin cloth's. When I said three I meant three, thats all I saw. I think because I was so small (5'6") and young looking, I went from pillar to post with three other guys.
I ended up on an APA during the Okinawa Invasion, standing on board the ship looking through a Telescope (some sailor had mounted on the deck) I kept a desire for me to go ashore and do my share. Then one day I heard some one calling out and somebody crying and I ran to see what it was.
Japanese civilians were jumping off a cliff, I must have been nineteen years old by this time and could only hope I would soon go ashore. But it wasn't to be. Later when I looked at my new record book I noticed I had participated in the Campaign for Okinawa Junto and the Campaign of the Marianas Island, some old Marine said to me; "What difference does it make, YOU were THERE".
I went back to Pearl Harbor on the APA and ended up in a Guard Detachment. The War ended and because I was loading and unloading supplies, so when I was given a new Record Book I was given a Supply Spec Number (What the MOS was called then), Supply and Administration Spec Numbers were froze and couldn't return to the US until all the 745's (Old rifleman Spec Number) and even the 521's (Basic Marine) had gone home. I finally got home on 10 March 1946, almost six months after the War was over.
I got out and went Home expecting a World Welcoming me home with open arms and a GREAT Job. That wasn't to be either because too many Veterans were already Home and the Job Market was crammed with World War II Vet's, so I joined the 52/20 Club. Congress had passed a law allowing Veterans to Recieve $20.00 a week for 52 weeks unless they got you a job (AND you had to make all appointments the Employment Office Made for you).
H-ll, I had more fun in the Corps and went to the Recruiting Station and asked; "Will you take Veterans?" "H-ll Yes" he said, so I took the Oath and climbed back into Uniform, This time to stay, or so I thought!
GySgt. F. L. Rousseau, USMC Retired
I Had The Dubious Pleasure
Allow me, please, to reply to two recent letters in your October 23, 2014 newsletter.
To: Henry ("Hank") Nocella
Only those who have received a less than honorable discharge are "former Marines". You are, and always will be, a Marine - period. You are now wearing a different uniform. That uniform may be a suit and tie. It could also be blue with a badge on the shirt. The uniforms Marines wear are as many and as varied as the men and women who wear them. I'm honored to count myself as one of your Marine brothers.
To: Gary Harlan
I would first like to apologize if I offended you by "implying" that Marines leave or left the Marine Corps because of "peer pressure". I didn't mean to "imply" anything other than the fact that "peer pressure" is a powerful force, back then as well as today. There are many (too numerous to mention) reasons why Marines choose to leave active duty. "Peer pressure" is but one. When we were young, all of us made decisions that later in life we might wish we had made differently. We were young, immature, and sometimes foolish. Frequently, we were placed in unfamiliar surroundings that were dangerous, life threatening. We adjusted to being Marines (a different way of life) in a variety of ways. Many simply decided that the Marine way of life wasn't for them as a career. I don't believe there is a WRONG reason for not making the Marine Corps a career. Every Marine must do what they believe is best for them. The length of time a Marine stays in the Marine Corps, their MOS, or their duty station is absolutely immaterial. What's material is the fact that we are Marine brothers, today, tomorrow, and forever. We all contributed what we could to the accomplishment of the mission. I was also just reflecting on what life as a Marine was like back then.
I had the dubious pleasure of serving 44 months in Vietnam. My first operation was Hastings with India Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines. I was with Golf Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines in Hue City and the Tet Offensive in 1968. Captain Ronald Christmas was our Company Commander. He is a retired Lt/Gen and quite instrumental in building the Marine Corps Museum. There were other operations sprinkled through those many months. Many Marines who had no intention of making the Marine Corps a career put their lives on the line for me and other Marines. The hero's names are on the wall in Washington, DC. I'm proud and honored to have served with men of that caliber. Whether a Marine intended to make the Marine Corps a career never made any difference to me. Marines, like you, who didn't make the Marine Corps a career did no less than those of us who chose to make it a career. We who wear the emblem earned it and wear it proudly regardless of where we served or how long we served.
A Former "Hat"
GySgt, USMC, (Ret)
Dear Sgt Grit,
I've been reading about some of the troubles some Marines received at boot camp when they got letters with initials written on the backs (SWAK, etc.).
My experience was slightly different.
My older brother was in the Marines eight years before me. When I first got to Parris Island, we recruits were told we were not to receive any mail until further notice and to write and tell everyone "No mail" yet. About the fifth day on the island most of the recruits saw a package on the DI's table at day's end, and after all the remarks that senior drill instructor GySgt Delkowski had to say, he suddenly held up the package and called MY name to come front and center. He asked me if I was expecting any contraband. "Sir, No Sir" I answered. He then asked if I recognized the name and address of the sendee and shoved the package about 2 inches in front of my face. Crossed eyed, I recognized my older brothers writing and wanted to crawl into a hole, because I knew this was not going to end well for me. I said as much as I could in as short a time as possible that it was my older brother... he was in the Marines in the early 50's... he hated me... he's home laughing at me right now... please throw the package away. Other stuff, too, but I can't remember it all now. He then told me to open the package right where I was and show him what's inside. I could see that it was from a quality candy maker in our area, and was sweating about what was going to happen to me.
When I showed him what was in the package he said "What are you going to do with the contents, maggot?" I said pass it around the squad bay (hoping that I wouldn't have to eat the entire contents myself). He said "My maggots don't eat pogy bait, do they maggots?" Everyone yelled louder than anything I had ever heard before, "Sir, No Sir." He says "Well, pass it around the squad bay sh-t head." After I made a trip around the port and starboard sides of the squad bay I returned with the package as full as when I started. I dreaded what I thought was going to happen next, two pounds of chocolate candy crammed down my throat, asphyxiation, death, not becoming a Marine after all.
"Seeing as this is the first time this has happened, I'll keep the package as a reminder to not receive mail until I say you t-rds can receive mail, is that clear people?" he said. "Sir Yes Sir" everyone but me answered. I was having an out-of-body experience about then and it took a few seconds for the words to sink in. When I refocused my eyes he was saying "Dismissed". I stepped back, about faced, and ran faster than I ever ran before to my bunk in case he changed his mind.
Two days later somebody else wasn't so lucky when he had to eat a box of Oreos with Tide laundry detergent poured on them. Didn't take long for the upchucking to start.
By the way, I thanked my brother for sending the package of candy when he did, and he was dumbstruck! I didn't tell him I never had to eat them and I'm sure the DI's had a good time with them.
Got another boot camp story to tell, but it'll be for another time.
L/Cpl Rich Townsend
From the DISBURSING CHIEF
(Vol #10, #4)
I did not know that my parents had returned to the area and I was shocked to learn that they had purchased The Hemlocks. They had passed that property hundreds - maybe thousands - of times and would often comment about what a lovely place it was. I don't think they ever dreamed of someday owning it. But I am sure they had never really expected to get $464,088 for our farm either. I did not know what they had paid for The Hemlocks but Mr.'B' said it was 'an all cash transaction' and I was sure this property cost MUCH LESS than that. I could not reach my parents by phone and it was almost 2100. I told the 'Bs' that I would go over there in the morning. Mrs.'B' said "You look tired. You won't have to sleep on the sofa tonight. You can go up and sleep in Mary's bed. I am sorry that she will not be joining you - but when you get up there you will think she is there, too. Her room is permeated with the odor of her Prince Matchabelli perfume." And it sure was! This just made me miss her all the more. I slept like a log until my usual wake up time - 0500. I did not wish to disturb anyone so I just laid there and thought about going over to The Hemlocks and seeing my parents for the first time in over a year.
When I heard the 'Bs' going downstairs I got up and took my usual quick shower and got dressed. When I went downstairs Mrs.'B' asked if I would like some breakfast. I said "I'll pass again. I am sure my mother will insist on my having breakfast with them - even if I have stuffed myself here." I told the 'Bs' that I would see them again later in the day and headed over to The Hemlocks. I was sure that my parents and I had a great deal to tell each other. This trip took about 15 minutes or so. I pulled into the long, circular driveway in front of their new home - right up behind my Dad's Rocket Oldsmobile '98'. I sat there a moment and looked at this house. It must have been 60 feet long and 24 feet deep (What I could see at that time. I later learned that the middle third was about 10 or 12 feet deeper.) It was three stories high. I walked to the front door and used the large brass knocker to let them know they had a visitor. My Mom answered and my Dad was only a few steps behind her. We hugged and kissed. My Mom said "I knew you were in the area. We had been here only one day when the mail carrier delivered our first letter. He said he wasn't sure if it was for the Cecils or the new owners. It was the smallest letter I have ever seen in the U.S. Mail. It was for you. I do not know who it is from. It is postmarked from Washington, D.C. and smells like it was dipped in perfume." I knew who it was from. Mom handed it to me. The letter was only about one inch bigger in each direction than a business card. It was addressed to 'Sgt. H. T. Freas, USMC, The Hemlocks, Mt. Laurel Road, Moorestown, N.J.' I slipped it into my pocket. Mom said "Aren't you going to open it?" I said "I'll open it later." She looked a bit puzzled about this.
Semper Fi. The old, real old, real, real old (85) Master Gunny.
Harold T. Freas, Sr.
Smedley D. Butler's Signature
There are probably many more versions of the Marines' Hymn than most can count.
Circa 1963 a few miles West of Lawrence, Kansas. I met someone who I later found out was a Marine. We helped him and his wife escape from a tornado which appeared to be headed towards their house. It was less than 1/4 mile away when we went high port and got away. It missed their house by 100 yds. We got back to his house and found out he was a Marine too. He had participate in the second campaign of Nicaragua. He said when he got discharged from the Marines, it was the day Smedley D. Butler retired. After Gen Butler signed his discharge papers they walked out of headquarters building together. He dug out his discharge paper and there was Smedley D. Butler's signature.
He also dug out copies of the words for the Marine Corps Hymn that lamented, and described, and cussed Nicaragua. There were quite a few versus. Wish I could remember the words.
It never stops amazing me the types of stories you can hear from old Marines if you just take the time to sit a listen. I've met and talked to two Marines that participated in one of the Chinese boxer rebellions and of course this Nicaragua Marine. Most memorable one to me was one that survived the Bataan(sp) Death March.
They gave me much to live up to.
(Hoogie) Gysgt/Capt USMC (ret)
Apprentices Of War: Memoir Of A Marine Grunt
Apprentices of War: Memoir of a Marine Grunt is a book by Gary Tornes, who served as a United States Marine during the Vietnam War. He tells a vivid and memorable account of military life and the struggles of the foot Marine in Viet Nam. His story illustrates the timeless tragedy of combat that faced the American Marine of that generation. It reveals an emotional and compelling side to what a grunt's life was like on a daily basis in the jungles of Nam. And while Gary takes his readers into the combat zone of that particular war, and tells how the average Marine tried to survive the bloody and brutal challenges in southeast Asia, it's a story that any Marine from any conflict can relate to. The power packed, in-depth, detailed action of Apprentices of War will give you an insight into what he and his fellow Marines encountered and makes Gary's book hard to put down.
Get your hardback copy today at: Apprentices of War: Memoir of a Marine Grunt.â€‹
Then Armageddon Started
Six of us from NE Okla (Miami) joined on the 1st of Aug 1953, bussed to KC to catch a train to MCRD San Diego. We got there fairly late and rode cattle cars to the Depot. We were taken to the north side of Grinder, one of the old buildings facing it and we were put on the top floor of very large room with a total of about 100 newbies. There was a flat roof off the front of the room and we all went outside to observe our new world. A DI walking in arcade under us heard the noise and stepped out in the assumed the pose... hands on hips, sneer on mouth. After a 6-minute azs chewing, he advised us to get our stupid civilian Aszzes inside... Then Armageddon started... Supposedly some guy with a defective brain gave him the middle finger salute and then the fun began.
Before we got inside, he was upstairs and had stopped on the first floor and had gotten 3 or 4 other DI's... (assistants I suppose)... briefed them on the situation and everyone was ready... Unfortunately the guy who (reportedly) gave him the salute was wearing a blue shirt, as was I and quite a few others. Of course we got special attention... I was raised with Yes Sir and Yes Mam but some of these guys weren't and they seemed too dumb to understand that, that was required...
After about 30 minutes (seemed like hours) we were told to get into the bunks and do nothing but breathe till morning... I have no idea if this was a staged production or not but it worked...
As with everyone else in the room I wondered as I tried to go to sleep, what the h-ll; have I gotten into... but we soon found out...
Sgt Don Wackerly
From The DISBURSING CHIEF
(Vol #10, #5)
I had stepped inside. It seemed like I had walked into a museum. The ceilings were about 12 feet high. Seeing my Mom & Dad for the first time in over a year was a pleasure. Mom said "I want to show you around - but I want to get you some breakfast first. What can I fix for you?" I replied "ANYTHING. I have not eaten since lunch yesterday at the Midway." That made her day. She started to work on one of her huge breakfasts. I sat at the very large marble top table that she had acquired when we bought the farm in 1939. I admired the place. It was HUGE, a quite typical 'country kitchen' - about 20 feet square - but all of the kitchen appliances were modern. She fixed my usual half dozen FRESH eggs - sunny side up, scrapple, bacon, corn meal mush and my quart of milk. (I mentioned FRESH eggs because the USMC was still using cold storage eggs purchased for WWII).
Mom & Dad were anxious to show me around. The 'Living Room' and 'Sitting Room' were each about 20 by 24 ft. We went upstairs. The ceilings on the 2nd floor - with four bedrooms and two baths - were 'only' about 10 feet tall - and those on the 3rd floor with another four bedrooms and two baths were the usual 8 feet. There was an attic, too, but I did not go up there. Mrs. Cecil had left a lot of antique furniture that she had no room for in her new home. Mom loved these but had not yet decided where she would put them - and she might be selling some of them. Then we went outside to see the barn and other outbuildings. The nearest building was about the size of a standard poultry house, about 22x26 ft. It was fully enclosed with a big lock on the doors. Then there were four sheds, about 26 ft. deep, with open fronts. The total width of the four was about 100 ft. They were empty. The machinery that had at one time been stored in them was long gone. And then we were at the barn - the biggest barn I had ever seen. We went inside. It had milking stalls for 100 cows and four birthing pens. And of course an enclosed milkhouse over in one corner. I climbed the ladder to look into the haymow. It was huge and reminded me of an airplane hanger. It was empty. (If you had no cows you needed no hay) I climbed down and went over to look into the milkhouse. Then we walked towards the house. We looked at all the beautiful shrubbery and flowers that Mrs. Cecil had planted. My Dad, a born gardener, really liked these.
We walked towards the front of the house. Dad wanted to see my new Buick. He liked it. He asked "What happened to your Hudson?" I replied "I'll tell you the whole sordid story when we get back into the house. How many miles do you have on your Olds?" He said "It's just about to go over 20,000 miles." (And that was in just over a year while on one vacation around the United States) We went inside the house and sat down in the living room. I said "Now that you are sitting down, I will tell you about the demise of the Hudson. I do not know where you were on the 2nd Sunday in April, but you came within a gnats whisker of losing your youngest son."
Semper Fi. The old, real old, real, real old (85) Master Gunny.
Harold T. Freas Sr.
Whitehall, N.Y. â€“ Joseph J."Coach" Marcino, Jr., 91, of Whitehall, died Monday, October 20, 2014 at Glens Falls Hospital surrounded by his loving family by his side following a brief illness.
He was born on May 25, 1923 in Whitehall, N.Y. the son of Joseph and Angela (Bagnacelli) Marcino. Joseph was a member of the American Legion Post #83 of Whitehall. He was also a member of Our Lady of Hope Roman Catholic Church of Whitehall. Joseph was a graduate of Whitehall High School. He then enlisted into the United States Marines Corps serving in WW II, achieving the rank of Sergeant. While serving with Company A, Fifth Tank Battalion, Fifth Marine Division on Volcano Islands on Iwo Jima on March 18, 1945, his tank became disabled forward of the enemy lines. Under heavy enemy fire, he and his crew dismounted the tank and made repairs enabling them to continue forward on their mission. For his devotion and courage, he was awarded the Bronze Star.
In response to Sgt O:
In 2012 I was at a reunion of 1/9 in San Diego and we attended a graduation while there, and there were a few recruits that were graduating as not only E-2 but some E-3's.
GySgt Larry Schafer, 214xxxx
MCRDSD, platoon 361, Aug '65
Co B, 2ndAmTracBn, Camp Lejeune Jan66-Sep66
A, Co, 1/9 Oct66-Feb67 RVN
CAP-P, Feb67-Oct67 RVN
I&I, Pasadena, Calif., Nov67-Aug69
We all know the tradition of who gets the first and second piece of our birthday cake. I have a great idea on who should get the third piece of cake, etc. Any Marine who was born on November 10th. starting with the oldest.
Once And Always... Semper Fi!
P.S. By the way I was born on November 10, 1941 :)
Grimes, get your Dod-gamned, hucking fands out of your pockets! Give me ALL of the squat thrusts in the known universe Grimes!
To "Gy Mac" about the poser: do what I did with one, retire then slap him upside the head and call him a loser. To those arguing about rank leaving boot: Anthony "Squid" Bovenvize left MCRDPICS in 1969 as an E-4, former Navy Corpsman.
Gunny McMahon, the lyrics 'Admiration of the Nation' were replaced with 'First to Fight for Right and Freedom' around 1929/1930.
GySgt. P. Santiago
My suggestion to GySgt Mac. Gunny, don't waste your time and effort. However, if you insist on confronting the poser, then do it calmly and deliberately. And do it without getting physical or loud. I'll bet most of the other employees are well aware that he's lying. I'll also bet that they have little or no respect for the poser. I admire you for wanting to defend our Marine Corps and all Marines against posers whose lies make us all cringe. But he just isn't worth it, now or ever. Semper Fi - Devil Dog - Good Luck.
A Former "Hat"
GySgt, USMC, (Ret)
Here's a 55-year old quickie:
Drill on the P I grinder in 100-degree heat, our Senior D I gave us an at-ease break for the canteen and salt pills.
At the same time he dropped his trousers to square away and tuck in his shirt. Much to the whole platoon's surprise we saw that his bright and white skivvies were decorated with red hearts. (And we realized that this "monster" had a life off the drill field and was human after all!)
Thanks, for best coffee cup in universe,oohra!
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Steel USMC with Eagle, Globe, and Anchor Mug
"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive."
"Freedom is not free, but the U.S. Marine Corps will pay most of your share."
"[T]he crisis is arrived when we must assert our rights, or submit to every imposition, that can be heaped upon us, till custom and use shall make us as tame and abject slaves."
--George Washington (1774)
"A Marine is a Marine. I set that policy two weeks ago - there's no such thing as a former Marine. You're a Marine, just in a different uniform and you're in a different phase of your life. But you'll always be a Marine because you went to Parris Island, San Diego or the hills of Quantico. There's no such thing as a former Marine."
--General James F. Amos, 35th Commandant of the Marine Corps
"Life without liberty is like a body without spirit."
"An honest man can feel no pleasure in the exercise of power over his fellow citizens."
--Thomas Jefferson, 1813
"What is the difference between a fairy tale and a sea story? One starts out once upon a time and the other starts out hey man this is no BULLSH-T."
"I'm so short I'm sleeping in a match box using a rifle patch for a blanket."
"Bends and mothers until you change the rotation of the earth!"
Fair winds and following seas.