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Father's Day - June 19th
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Marine's Take Care Of Their Own
Marine's K-9 honored: 'One of their own'
on Sunday, May 8, 2005. | Chief Warrant Officer PETER ZORBA Squadron
HMM-764 "The Moonlighters"
Dear Friends and Family,
Weather is beginning to climb up into the 100s now. With the heat comes the
dust and sandstorm season here, so many of our days are spent working and
living in an orange haze of diffused sunshine, wind, heat and dust that
gets everywhere and covers everything (aircraft, equipment, skin, teeth,
weapons, even the food in the chow hall).
We're all glad to be at the two-month mark, though it feels more like our
ninth. Hard to believe we were home at all sometimes * that we haven't been
here, doing what! we do, day after day - night after night - all along.
Still, morale is high and both the Marines and the helicopters we're flying
are doing well, in spite of long hours and high operational tempo.
It must go hand in hand. The busier you are, the faster time goes. The
faster time goes, the happier you are. Needless to say, most everyone tries
to stay as busy as possible. The days are long, but the weeks are flying (no
pun intended).
I want to tell you all a quick story, and if any of you know me at all
then you know I love a good story! But I think this story says something
about the organization that I am a small part of here.
Last time I wrote, I described the Marines, in particular the young men and
women here with me that I am so proud to serve with. Many of you responded
that you were touched by the knowledge, or at least depiction of
those kids * those heroes, for that is what they! are. But, I digress.
A couple weeks ago I flew a night mission into Baghdad. Baghdad is a big
city, and where we actually flew into, whether it would be a name you'd
recognize from the news or not, doesn't really matter. Suffice to say that
I fly into Baghdad almost every night, but this night's mission was a
special ASR (assault support request).
A Marine K-9 had been killed and another dog wounded earlier in the day
and we were going there to pick up the dead K-9, the wounded K-9 and their
Marine handlers. How these Marines were attacked, whether in contact with
insurgents, a sniper or an improvised explosive device (IED), we never
knew.
We took off from our base and flew through the dark, star-clustered
Arabian night in an open combat spread. Radios crackled and disembodied
voices rolled through my helmet. The lights of small towns scattered across
the desert floor, illuminated with a green glow through my NVG's (night
vision goggles) passed below us and in and out of my gun sights.
At about midnight we were on short final into a small LZ with
battle-scarred concrete walls, and a hardened outpost with a bullet-riddled
watchtower. As we touched down, I hopped out the back of our helicopter and
watched as our "dash 2" landed about 40 feet to our 7 o'clock.
The LZ was dark and no one was around. Through my NVG's I could see the
Marines in the tower, and the bunker at its base, watching us, not really
thrilled to see us there, two phrogs spinning on the deck inside their
perimeter. And why would they be, as we presented a wonderfully enhanced
target for indirect fire (IDF) in their position. Not that they don't take
IDF often enough, just that we were now an added bonus to any one already
predisposed to 'throwing' a few mortars or RPG's our way * and theirs!
We wait! ed. Five minutes. Ten minutes. After 15 minutes, with still no
sign of anyone, or any dogs, the crew began to grow a little uneasy:
"We're here, where the hell are they?"
"Godd*mnit. Who the * is running this place."
"Do you see anybody, gunner?"
"Negative, sir."
"* If we don't see anybody soon, let's get dash 2 out of here, so at
least there's only one of us on the deck here in case we take incoming. You
copy that (call sign)."
"Roger that. Copy all."
Just then a door of a small industrial looking building about a hundred
meters away, opened and I could see Marines moving awkwardly towards us.
They were carrying their rifles with their outside hands and with the
inside hand, each held the edge of a body bag. Behind them followed another
Marine with a shouldered rifle, MOLLIE pack, and his hands were on the back
of the bag.
But this Marine's hands held the trailing edge of the body bag more like
a priest would grasp a holy cloth or a child his mother's hem, not really
supporting any weight, just holding on. As they loaded the body bag into
our bird, I took the young Marine's pack and stowed it and then got him
buckled in. The wounded K-9 and his handler were loaded into dash 2, and I
sat back down behind my .50 cal and called us clear of wires and trees as we
lifted into the night sky.
Once airborne, and on the go, out of the cultural lighting from over the
town, I looked back to see a big Marine, head in his hands, sitting in
darkness, bent over the body of his dog.
That was a long flight. My pilot, a battle-hardened colonel, kept asking me
"How's our boy doing?" as if he were a worried parent checking on his child.
He handed me back a small package of chocolate chip cookies he'd been saving
for the return to base. "Give 'em to our boy. He's had a rough day of it." I
unhooked my gunner's belt and walked back to the young man. I
put my hand on his shoulder, handed him the cookies and patted him on the
back, smiling some compassionate, but dumb, smile there in the dark, 300'
somewhere over Iraq. What else can you do?
When we touched back down at our base, the passenger/cargo terminal sent
a vehicle out for the dogs. I helped the Marine with his gear, out away
from our rotor arc, and then ran back up the ramp and into our bird just in
time to grab one of the terminal guys as he was reaching for the body of
our Marine, thinking it was just another piece of gear.
"Hey man - what the * are you doing?!" I yelled over the engine noise.
"Leave him alone. We'll get him." The crew chief and I reverently bent over
and gently lifted the body bag and carried it out of our plane. I have
carried body bags before here, and I was surprised by how light this one
was.
I placed my arms under the dog's body and gently set him down in the
vehicle. And then, out of sheer habit, I petted the poor pup on the shoulder
* or maybe it was his hip. His body was still soft, even inside the thick
black polyethylene bag. As I turned to head back to my plane, I was face to
face with the fallen Marine's master.
The young corporal looked at me, he had seen me pet his dog, and I like to
think he saw how reverently we carried his fallen comrade's body out of the
plane, but maybe not. Red eyes and a sad, exhausted face were eclipsed by a
smile of gratitude as he shook my hand and mouthed the words "thank
you." Then he was gone and we were back on the plane and set to lift. Once
back on our line after we had shut down, we all sat down in the back. It was
quiet and no one really spoke until the colonel asked, "Did you take care of
our boy?! Was he hurting too bad? Did you do right by the pup? Did we treat
them both with the respect and honor they deserved?"
"Yes sir." I replied last year while we were here, the brevity code for
friendly KIA was "Angels." I don't know what it is this time for OIF III,
but it is a very fitting term. So I told the colonel "Yes, sir, the 'Angel'
was carried with respect, and treated with dignity and compassion, as was
as handler." The colonel liked this and we all agreed that the dog was a
Marine * as much as any of us.
But on another level, that kid had not only lost his partner, but he'd
lost his dog, a dog that I am sure he loved and that loved him back. That
had touched us all deep down somewhere, where you're still a kid yourself.
We were proud to have been able to do what we did for this fellow Marine,
this 'Angel', and each of us would willingly do it again any time. That's
what Marines do.
I guess what I am saying is that we continually hear the question asked,
"Why we are here?" I heard a Marine say yesterday, "Don't ask me why I am
here. I don't make our country's policy, I execute policy." I guess to me
"why" is not really that important.
What is important is 'how' I am here. To me, this story illuminates that
"how," by showing the nature of the Corps that makes Marines what they are,
and in turn, is made what it is by the Marines devoted to it and to each
other.
I am part of an organization that believed it was important enough to send
two helicopters and their crews, into harms way in order to retrieve the
body of one of its fallen. It made no difference that the Marine killed in
action was a dog and not a man, what does matter is that each one of us
involved felt the same.
To us, not only was it a warranted and reasonable utilization of Marines,
Marine Corps ! assets and resources, but the risk to eight Marines and two
aircraft was far outweighed by a pervading sense of honor, commitment and
espirit de corps. Why else am I here, if not to go get a boy and his dog -
both of whom are fellow Marines. Few things here have been as important as
that mission to me, and to my crew as well. That's "how" we are.
Semper fi,
Peter
Complete Tune-up
Yo, grit...re the tanker talk.....got a question for anybody who
crewed/fitshisted on the M48's when they were gasoline powered....which is,
how many sparkplugs does it take to do a complete tune-up on an M48....or a
M51 retriever, for that matter?....and, turret control systems for tanks,
and most of the SP arty pieces were made by Cadillac Gage Company (no
"U").... from a 1958 grad of Tracked Vehicle Repairman course at Delmar,
AKA 21 area.....
Ddick
He Lived, Breathed
Dear Sgt. Grit,
I thank you so much for your web site. Veterans Day, November 2003, the
father of my children was killed in Iraq. Retired GySgt. James Dunn
Wilshire - 23 years in Marine Corp service tried to sign back up with the
Marine Corp when the war broke out in Iraq. He went into the Marines at the
age of 18, right out of high school, and lived his life fully dedicated to
the service of his country. He lived, breathed and loved the Corp.
The Marines would not let him re-up for the war, so staying true to his
spirit of fighting for the freedom of others and for this country, he
contracted to a company in Iraq and went to war anyway. Because he was not
enlisted in the Corp at the time of is death, he was not included as a
casualty of war, and was not honored in any way.
I am sorry for the long diatribe, just wanting to give you the back ground
as to why I am writing to you today.
Even though it has been a couple of years, our two daughters struggle with
his death and struggle with the new media constantly broadcasting how
senseless this war is. I was online today, looking for information to place
in Memorial Day cards for the girls and came across your web site. There is
a message from Corporal Kevin W. Rios that is priceless and explains one
very good reason why anyone would want to lay down their life in war. I
used his picture and his message in the card to the girls. What a blessing!
I wish our newspapers and television media would interview our fighting men
and broadcast their hearts and reasons they are fighting so hard. Just a
few good reasons - "Because they believe they can make a difference in the
lives of people who are being slaughtered by their own government. They
believe all people worldwide should live in freedom like we do. They
believe freedom is worth fighting for and the Iraqi people are worth
fighting for. They believe in the rights of Democracy and in helping all
those who are oppressed fight against that oppression."
Thank you once again for helping me give a priceless gift to our girls - a
reason for their dads death that they can live with.
Bless you all, our prayers are with you continually,
Jana Johnson
Adapt, Overcome, Improvise!
Mrs. Ostrowski,
As all Marines learn, you have to adapt and overcome. I suggest the
young soon to be marines employ a bit of graduation camouflage over their
Dress Blues, by that I mean wear their Blues, prior to arrival at the
graduation ceremony, they put the cap and gown on over top of their Blues
and putting their Blues cover in a small brown bag. Sit respectfully until
called, then as they stand, take the gown off and march to the stand to
receive their diploma.
Semper Fi,
Gunny
One Day I Can Never Forget
May 26, 1969
The Battery had been moved to the top of Dong Ha Mountain for a few weeks
now. Battery A 1st Battalion 12th Marine Regiment 3rd Marine Division had
built a position for their six 105mm Howitzers on the top of a high peak and
was capable of providing close artillery support in any direction. The work
was very hard. All materials, ammo, supplies and equipment had to be man
carried and placed. No trucks, just a placement by CH-53's and 46's and the
guns tended to sink in the mud. Thousands of sand bags filled with mud had
to be assembled into gun pits and houches. The wind and rain chilled you to
the bone. The fire missions were long and everybody was worked into a
trance. The Marines in the battery were very close to each other. We humped
ammo and worked together to accomplish our mission. Many life long
friendships were born. Many lives were changed.
As a Battery the troops worked as a unit to accomplish the common tasks.
Humping ammo, building fortifications and doing whatever was necessary. But
the very close relationships came within the various Gun crews. When your
Gun had duty, time off, chow or guard it was only your crew as all others
were sleeping, eating or on work parties. The five Marines on your Gun were
yours. On Dong Ha Mountain the Guns were arranged in line connected by
common pit walls. I was on Gun #1 and shared some personal moments with Gun
#2 and #3, but the farther down the line towards the CP the closeness seemed
to fade a little. The firebase was the night rest stop for various infantry
platoons; they would hump in and out daily. I don't recall even speaking to
these Marines but their presents was always appreciated.
I remember Van Vleet as a skinny light haired kid from Utah. He was a hard
worker, friendly and he knew how to stay out of the Sgt.'s ire. He was on
Gun #2. Gutierrez had a slight build and was from California as was I, but I
don't remember talking to him much about home. Although he was a Corporal he
worked very hard and was on Gun #2.
On the day I can never forget the call rang out "battery adjust, enemy
contact, rounds, charge, azimuth, deflection". All Marines scrambled. It was
wet and almost dark. I was standing behind Gun #1 loading powder bags into a
canister. Mike D. was next to me setting a fuse when I swear that it went
completely quiet and I heard for the very first time in my life the words
"short round". For some reason, I will hopefully understand some day, I
crouched down, there was a loud snap sound, and then screams. Robert Van
Vleet and Raymond Gutierrez were on high ground when the round hit wire or
air bursted directly between Gun #1 and #2. They died and I was changed
forever. Death, pain, blood, sadness and the realization of mortality was
the lesson of that day.
I am a United States Marine Veteran but I must admit that at that moment I
was a child. The gallant efforts displayed by other Marines inspire me. I
will not name them but they were truly heroic. The Doc worked and men held
the victims down, carried them to the helo and I think completed the fire
mission. I think all I could do was help. There was no shortage of
leadership and courage. After it was all over and quiet again I became
overwhelmed and jumped into a bunker. I think I was scared. I remember
thinking to myself "what the F*ck are you doing? There is no danger now".
The fact is that I was changed forever.
God bless Van Vleet and Gutierrez. They were taken at nineteen years. They
are forever nineteen while those of us who survived are old. They missed
what we were given and I will probably never understand why.
I will never forget these two Marines. They gave all so we can be free. When
I hear people speaking of gallant war heroes with medals and citations I
remember these two Marines who made the ultimate sacrifice with little if
any recognition. They were the gallant heroes I knew.
(Quote)"All Marines die in either the red flash of battle or the white cold
of the nursing home. In the vigor of youth or the infirmity of age all will
eventually die but the Marine Corps lives on. Every Marine who ever lived is
living still, in the Marines who claim the title today. It is that sense of
belonging to something that will outlive our own mortality. It is belonging
to something which gives people a light to live by and a flame to mark their
passing." (Author unknown)
Semper Fi,
Mike Stagner, aka "Orange"
0811, Battery A, 1st Bat, 12th Reg.3rd Div.
RVN 1969
Apricots
Sgt. Grit:
In 1972, Bravo Company, Third Tanks, was up to Fuji from Okinawa for firing
and maneuver, and I was a brand-new butter-bar with his first platoon of
90mm M-48s.
We were out practicing platoon combat formations, and broke at noon for cold
"C's" on the turret-top. I got apricots.
My horrified platoon sergeant said, "Sir, pitch-em!", but being a
college-educated young lieutenant, I was way too sophisticated to buy into
tanker superstition. I ate them.
On the way back to the base camp, it started to rain. We were coming up a
hill and in a steep, narrow, road cut on a muddy tank trail and we managed
to throw both tracks to the inside. It rained all night, and it took until
0600 the next morning to get the pig's tracks fixed.
You'd think that a mustang would know better than to buck Marine Corps
superstition, but I transitioned to tanks out of TBS, as I figured I had
humped enough rucks as an enlisted puke to last me a lifetime.
Live and learn. I never ate apricots again.
Don Kaag
LTC, Armor, AUS(Ert.)
...and former Sgt. and Capt. of Marines
But More Important
Sgt Grit
Just a note to you from this old jarhead.
I was in way back in 1956. Platoon 63, C company
third marine recruit battalion. My drill instructors were
S/Sgt Muldrew, Sgt Howell and Cpl Palmer. We were
on mess duty while members of platoon 64 drowned
doing a night maneuver in the swollen Ribbon Creek.
The Marine Corps was my home for several years.
I learned how to be a Marine but more important
how to take care of myself in this life...
I was too late for Korea and a bit early for Viet Nam -
What is now referred to as a cold war Marine. My heart
is with you all always...
Cpl Bob MacGillivray USMC Retired
Cpl. Cruz
"Oohrah"! Outstanding son you have their Marine. Safe return to him
and to all who are in that sh%#hole. I served with 1st CEB in the gulf
during desert shield/storm and know it was demanding on many of an occasion,
but feel that it's much worse this second time around. We should have
finished the job the first time. I wish I could be there, and I'm sure you
do too. Your son seems to be a good man. It seems like you did a good job
with him. I am one of the Few, and I still remain Proud. Peace.
Semper Fi!!!
LCpl. Chestna /1st Mar.Div./1st CEB Supt.Co.Util.Plt.
OORAH
He is still eligible for the purple, after he comes home have him put in for
it, May not seem important now, but if he should have to file a claim with
the VA later, the Purple Heart is irrefutable evidence that he was in
combat.
Chuck Greene Disabled Veteran
former Marine Corporal Vietnam Veteran Mike Company 3rd Battalion 5th
Marines
Vietnam 66-57 two purple hearts believe me they make a difference
Semper Fi
sorry, sarge, but i'm not to inclined to believe the blurb. no full names
are given and the fact that he wasn't truly wounded other than a bruise
doesn't warrant a ticket home in my opinion. but, i'm just basing this on
my experiences in viet nam. anyway, the marine spirit of staying is
something i appreciate. as far as medals go, marines don't need medals to
be heroes. they already are when they earn the right to be called MARINE.
sgt d a lynch jr ret
Oorah ! Cpl. Cruz... to the motivated LCPL, thanks for being a MARINE, that's what we do! Robert Jeziorowski 98-00 FAST Co. 3Plt. SEMPER FI !
think you'll see that on Oprah?
All I got to say is OOOHRA! This old "Devil Doc" Salutes LCpl. Cruz.
Marines like him make me proud to say I am a former FMF Corpsman! He earned
that Purple Heart, according to regs, but he refused it because he felt that
the ones who were "really hurt" deserved it more, and the idea of leaving
his unit in a hot zone because he had a "bruise on his chest the size of his
hand" was repugnant to him.
Cpl. Cruz, you have raised a fine Marine in that son of yours. He
exemplifies all that the Corps represents.
I would like to take this opportunity to praise "the Fewer and Proud."
Corpsmen, take care of your Marines, 'cause you d*mn well know that they are
taking care of you! Remember your Oath and keep those men healthy. You may
be a "noncombatant," but I know that you'll kick some ass if any of those
jokers try to get at "your" Marines, and you'll run through the Gates of
Hell to rescue a wounded Devil Dog and drag his ass back to safety. That's
why you're there, and that's why you're the best!
Docs often get lost in the shuffle, by both the Navy and the Corps, but
we are always there, waiting for the call "Corpsman up!" and hoping it never
comes, because it means that our skills are needed. And I know you will, as
have so many before you, make the Ultimate Sacrifice if it means saving that
man's (sorry, I'm showing my age) or woman's, life.
Semper Fi to all Devil Dogs in Harm's Way, and to all you Devil Docs
who are there to make sure they back alive.
Robert E. Simoneau
HM2 USN (Ret.)
Writing the Wartime Experience
WASHINGTON, May 26, 2005 - The National Endowment for the Arts has created a
venue to collect and preserve the stories and reflections of service members
on the front lines of Iraq and Afghanistan and stateside defending the
homeland.
Operation Homecoming: Writing the Wartime Experience is a literary anthology
slated for publication in 2006.
The May 31 deadline is fast approaching for service members and their
families to submit material for possible inclusion in the book.
"We've received 1,100 entries so far," said Sally Gifford, NEA
communications specialist. "We'll house them all in a federal archives. All
of the writings submitted will be part of the historical record of the war.
While we have a May 31 deadline for consideration in the anthology, any
submissions sent after that will still be housed in the public archives."
Officials have not yet announced the location of the public archives.
The anthology will be distributed free by NEA to military installations,
schools and libraries and will be sold in bookstores.
There are no restrictions on genre -- poems, letters, personal narratives,
stories, memoirs, journal writings and other literary forms are all welcome.
Some works may address actual combat; others may focus on life on the home
front. Some works may be personal -- a soldier's or a spouse's attempt to
capture and clarify a singularly challenging moment in life, Gifford said.
Through this program, which started in April 2004, some of America's most
distinguished writers are conducting workshops at military installations and
contributing educational resources to help troops and their families share
their stories, Gifford noted.
"We've finished all of the domestic workshops this spring," Gifford said.
"Right now, we're conducting workshops and presentations at overseas
military installations. Those presentations are comprised of writing
workshops and a one-man play called "Beyond Glory," which is a collection of
first-person accounts of men who received the Medal of Honor."
E-mail entries to submissions@operationhomecoming.org
or mail them to:
National Endowment of the Arts
Operation Homecoming Anthology
Suite 519, 1100 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW
Washington, D.C. 20506.
Submissions should be no longer than 50 typed, double-spaced, numbered
pages.
Active and reserve component U.S. troops, and coalition members who served
after Sept. 11, 2001, especially in operations Enduring Freedom and Iraqi
Freedom are eligible to submit entries. Their immediate families are also
eligible to submit entries for consideration in the published anthology.
Near Of Far
To all Marines near or far come and gone,Semper Fi!
Sgt. Grit,I was just reviewing the 26 May 2005 news letter and it was with
out a doubt gratifying to read and hear from those still out in the field,
or who have come and gone who are immortalized in the stories told, with out
a doubt Marines never die they just go to hell and regroup! My wife,
children, and myself, salute all Marines past and present, once a Marine
always a Marine, and Godspeed to all members of the Armed Services of this
great country that we call the United States of America who are on the watch
24-7 there safe return and peace to all through out Gods green Earth that we
all call home.
Happy Memorial Day to all!
And
S e m p e r F i!
M a r i n e s !
M.W.Quinene/Guam
Mcrd San Diego
1984!
MORE ON THE MOVIE "THE D.I."
To sort of complete the comments on the famous B&W movie of 1957 (The D.I.)
with Jack Webb, here's some more info. The book "Courtmartial at Parris
Island, the story of Ribbon Creek" written by John Stevens talks about
Platoon 351 which was training from 1 October through 31 December, 1956.
That was about four months after the drowning incident but nothing much had
changed. The reason that Plt 351 (my platoon) was mentioned is that some
Hollywood movie producer had approached the Marine Corps wanting to do a
movie about the "brutality" of Marine D.I's and the Corps wanted no parts of
that plan. Shortly thereafter, Jack Webb approached the Marine Corps with
the idea of doing a movie about a day in the life of a D.I. including the
theme from a Kraft Television Theater show about the death of a sand flea.
That approach was approved and a film production team came to MCRD PI to
film background and absorb the experience. Jack Webb noticed and admired the
drill cadence of one of my Junior D.I's (Cpl E-3 John R. Brown) and pulled
him out to Hollywood to act in the film and be one of the technical
advisors. Brown played a Sergeant O'Neill in the film. You may recall that
he was the one who braced the fire watch and had to listen to him spit out
his General Orders and then pulled liberty with Webb at the Cotton Club. To
this day, no one can find out where John R. Brown went or what happened to
him. Rumor is he met and married a starlet while in Hollywood. He was a
'character' to say the least! The other 351 drill instructors were Sgt's
(E-4) Eugene Alvarez, J.R. Strickland and H.W. Jones.
I'm pleased to say that I still meet and communicate with my senior D.I.
after 49 years. Gene Alvarez is an accomplished author, PHd and a retired
professor living in Centerville, Georgia. At 75 years of age, he's
remarkable in all aspects and still travels back to Parris Island to join
with other D.I's including the WW II gents. Platoon 351 Marines can contact
me at jrhd@aolcom if they'd like.
Semper Fidelis
Joe Featherston
Major, USMC, Ret.
Joke
An old Corps Marine was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked
up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair in all different colors;
Green, Red, Purple, Blue, and Yellow. The old man just stared and stared.
Every time the young man looked, the old man was staring. The young man
finally said sarcastically, "What's the matter, old timer, never done
anything wild in your life?" Without batting an eye, the old Marine
replied, "Got drunk once and had s&x with a peacock. I was wondering if you
were my son.
Chris P.
Big Bellied
Sgt Grit
I enjoy reading your mail whenever an up date comes through. Today I
thought I too would send my comments concerning the Corps I so dearly love.
I was discharged from the Corps in June 1965 after serving in the Air Wing
as a Jet Mechanic. For the better part of three years I served with Marine
Squadron VMA-242 in Cherry Point, NC and then Iwakuni, Japan. Last year I
attended my first Squadron Reunion after 40 years since saying my goodbye's
to my fellow Squadron Mates. It was truly a wonderful experience to look at
those gray haired, big bellied wonderful group of guys again. We learned of
some of our Squadron officers and men that were killed in Vietnam, and also
of those who had died of illnesses non related to our military duty. It was
an honor to serve our country then, I know of a bunch of sixty year old
group of ex-Marines who would gladly volunteer to serve today (if they would
take us) if the need should arise again. I am proud to have been a Marine,
and cherish the memories I have of those who I served with. It was a
privilege to serve my country and to be part of the greatest group of
Marines ever gathered. SEMPER FI!
Dan Marklein
Goshen, Ky
Royal Shellback
Dear Sgt. Grit,
It's with great interest while reading the various missives relative to the
name of the ship these people sailed on for Korea that they would ever
forget the name of the ship that debarked from San Diego and "cruised" to
the "land of the morning calm."
The name of our ship which housed the 19th Draft for Korea was the U.S.N.S.
General William Weigel.
The reason I will never forget that name is one of the highlights during the
"cruise" namely, the crossing of the International Date Line on 29 March
1952.
On that beloved date, we entered the DOMAIN OF THE GOLDEN DRAGON !
For most of the Marines aboard, who had never crossed the date Line before,
we were then known as "polywogs".
The rest of the ole salts who had crossed before were the "shellbacks".
In order to become a shell back you had to have an audience with KING
NEPTUNE.
(Before continuing with my tale, I must digress to our previous training at
Camp Pendelton. I initially volunteered for an NCO Draft for Korea from Camp
LeJeune while attached to the 2nd Marine Division along with a few of my
buddies. At Pendelton, we did a little h&ll-raising during our training, and
a few of the top NCO's kind of took a "liking " towards us.) And now as
Paul Harvey says," on with the rest of the story."
KING NEPTUNE,( a M/SGT with a tremendous girth with a painting of the Royal
Baby on his gut), was on the main deck seated on his throne along with the
"Prosecutor, Royal Barber, Painter, Executioner, and others I have since
forgotten. Leading up to the throne was the Royal Path which was formed by
shellbacks on either side with paddles at the ready.
Below deck awaited the polywogs who had a special invitation to greet the
Golden Dragon.( remember the Senior NCO's that took a " liking " to us at
Pendelton, well they never forgot us!"
When your name was called below deck, attired in skivvies and socks, you
proceeded up the ladder where you were immediately greeted by a Royal
Shellback with a very powerful hose that could very well knock you off your
feet.
As you endeavored to proceed to the throne, the shellbacks on either side
"greeted "you with their paddles being applied to where ever on your body
that would be the most effective.
Upon arrival at the throne, King Neptune, listened to the charges being
imposed upon you by the Royal Prosecutor, i.e spying on the Royal Mermaids,
stealing sh#t from the Royal sea gulls,etc.
Sentence was then executed!
You kissed the Royal Baby and were then seated in a metal chair, where the
executioner touched an electric hair dryer to the chair (remember you were
soaking wet), the Painter applied his dabs ,here and there, and of course
the barber applied a few snips to finish the job and now you returned down
the Golden Path to the end of the shellback line and were now a full fledged
shellback.
This initiation lasted about an hour until the Captain of the ship
determined that we might be running out of water and demanded a termination
to all proceedings.
For this I was eternally grateful because I was scheduled to be the next
candidate up the ladder.
I may have forgotten a few details after so many moons so bear with me.
Respectfully submitted,
Sgt. George Maling H-3-5 Korea '52
Shellback Certificates
Sands Of Iwo Jima
From: "Col Wayne Morris USMC
Sent: Friday, June 03, 2005 6:45 AM
Subject: HOW JOHN WAYNE SAVED THE MARINES
SgtMaj: MustangMudMarine
Today is John Wayne's 98th birthday. He was born on May 26, 1907 in
Winterset, Iowa, weighing 13 pounds. His birthplace is a museum, and a few
years ago I took my son Brandon to visit it. There was a guest book, opened
to a page with the entry, in the entrant's handwriting, Name: Ronald
Reagan. Address: 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington DC. To celebrate the
birthday of a truly great American, let me tell you how John Wayne saved the
Marine Corps. In the aftermath of World War II, the psychological letdown
after years of war and bloodshed, the huge demobilization of servicemen, the
desire to slash military spending, and the antipathy towards the military
by left-wingers in the Democrat Party all combined in a call by a number of
Senators and Congressmen to abolish the Marine Corps. In this, they were
supported by the Doolittle Board, created by the Truman Administration,
which called for the Marine Corps to be "disbanded" as a separate military
force, and "unified" with the Army (yes, the board was headed by an Army
general, Jimmy Doolittle). A group of enterprising Marines - you can always
depend on Marines to be enterprising - with Hollywood connections thought a
movie made around the most famous photograph of World War II, Joe
Rosenthal's of the Marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima,
could help sway public opinion against their disbandment. They approached
legendary director Allan Dwan, who agreed to commission a script. The movie
was to be called "The Sands of Iwo Jima," and everybody agreed there was
only one man who could play the lead role of Sergeant Stryker: John Wayne.
To their great surprise, Wayne turned it down. He didn't like the script,
and he wasn't enamored of the character of Stryker. The Marines came to the
rescue again. The Marine Corps Commandant, General Clifton B. Cates, got on
an airplane and flew from Washington to California to personally request
Wayne make the picture. When General Cates explained the stakes involved -
the very existence of the Marine Corps - Wayne immediately changed his mind,
promising the general he would do everything in his power to have the movie
be a success. The Sands of Iwo Jima was released in 1949 and quickly became
a runaway blockbuster, with millions of moviegoers packing every theatre
showing it. Wayne was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar, establishing him as
Hollywood's Number One box-office star. The Doolittle Board folded its tent,
and no politician on Capitol Hill ever again said a word about disbanding
the Marines. So let's all say "Semper Fi" to the memory of John Wayne. To
further celebrate his birthday, here's a treat and some advice. The treat is
this link: A biography of John Wayne written by Ronald Reagan, in the
October 1979 Reader's Digest. The advice is this: Don't ever trust a man who
doesn't like John Wayne. A man's opinion of John Wayne is a good
rule-of-thumb test of his character and moral values. To admire John Wayne
is to admire the heroic and the morally noble. To sneer at John Wayne is to
admire the opposite.
John Wayne Video
Copyright 2004 To The Point, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Long Been A Dilemma
Yo Sgt. Grit -
This is in response to Mrs. Lorinda Wilder's letter about her daughter in
newsletter #98.
This "situation" has long been a dilemma for both the individual Marines as
well as those in the chain of command. In cases where counseling is
offered, many who really need it won't take it. "What? Me crazy? There's
nothing wrong with me!" There's this stigma, real or imaginary, that's
attached to anyone who "goes to see the shrink". "What will my buddies and
senior NCOs think - that I'm unreliable, wacko and not to be trusted?" This
mis-perception that there's "something wrong" with the person who seeks
psychiatric counseling is, unfortunately, fairly widespread.
On the other hand, if those in command offer post-deployment counseling, the
question arises, "What's going on? Do they think we're mentally incapable
or impaired or something?" The individual Marine feels that his/her
integrity and abilities are being questioned.
So it's one of those "darned if you do, darned if you don't" things. How do
I know? Been there, done that.
Semper Fi!
Ancient Jarhead
'52-'73
As A Former Marine
sgt grit
as a former marine of the viet nam time i'm proud of what our boys are
dong in iraq. i was in nam from 66 to 67 and i got to see death the hard
way. I was stationed with charlie med out side of da nang i watch some of
the guy i went to boot camp come through shot up and dead. i remember coming
home and being spit on and called names. to me being in the corps was the
best time of my life. all i can say is once a marine always a marine. so to
all of the marines and there families i say semper fi be proud of our boy
where ever they are.
cpl h wolfe
usmc 64 to 68
Doc Doug Stone
Sgt. Grit,
In the latest issue of Sgt. Grit Marine Specialties Catalog I received today
(Summer 2005) on page 113 you published a letter of thanks that "Doc" Doug
Stone had sent in. It read:
"I was a Corpsman with Third Bn., Third Marines in Viet Nam, 68'-69'. Ever
Since you started your business, I have ordered many items thru your
service, not only items for myself, but for other Marines and Corpsman. When
my buddies receive their gifts, on many occasions, it is healing time for
them. I am Sgt. At Arms for our local detachment of the Marine Corps League.
I recently ordered two KA-Bar 60th anniversary edition knives for two fine
Marines in our detachment who were at Iwo and also served in the capture of
other islands in the Pacific during WWII. The hugs I received from these
fine Marines brought tears to my eyes. Thanks to you, Sgt. Grit, you have
brightened a lot of our lives."
I am sad to report that "Doc" Stone died on May 22. 2005. He served with
"India" Company 3/3 and was awarded 2 Purple Hearts and a Silver Star. In
his letter of thanks he pointed out that he was Sgt. at Arms for his local
Marine Corps League. He was also our Battalions organizer for the 3/3
Reunion that is scheduled to be held in Colorado Springs, Colorado July
18-23 2006. He had completed all the arrangements etc. for the reunion prior
to his death and, although he will not be there in body, his spirit will be
felt by all that knew him and loved him.
If you would care to forward a letter of condolence to his family, I'm quite
certain that they would appreciate any gesture that you may offer.
Semper Fi,
Craig Slaughter/ Doc Hoppy
Show Respect
I have seen several items in the newsletters about police reactions during
traffic stops after they see a Marine decal or bumper sticker, where there
were no tickets issued. Here is a variation of that good will towards the
Eagle, Globe and Anchor.
This past week-end I attended the high school graduation ceremony for a
friend's daughter. For over 300 seniors it was held at our local coliseum.
Since it was during the memorial day week-end I was feeling especially
patriotic.
The opening ceremony was the presentation of the Colors by the high school
ROTC (Air Force) and the National Anthem. When the crowd stood I noticed
the guy standing in front of me was wearing a baseball cap. He did not
remove it as the Colors were brought forward.
The as the band started the National Anthem I got really pissed when he
still didn't remove his cap so I leaned forward and nicely asked him to
please show respect for the Flag and remove his cap. He ignored my request
and continued to stand when I noticed he hadn't even put his hand over his
heart and was even talking to the woman standing beside him. My mad took
over, so this time I leaned forward and said take your cap off A**hole, show
respect for our Flag. He looked over his shoulder at me and said F**k you!
At which time I grabbed the cap off his head and threw it on the floor. As
he reacted and started to turn towards me I hit him once, which put him on
his butt. About that time, several of the coliseum's rent-a -cops showed up
and grabbed me. A**hole started yelling that I had assaulted him and he
wanted me arrested. The rent-a-cops called a couple of real police and then
told me I had to leave the property. The real police talked to the A**shole
then took me away. On the way out the police officers saw my EGA pin on my
coat lapel and asked me if I had been a Marine. I told them I still was.
When we got outside they told me to forget about A*sshole and his charges,
that they would handle it, they couldn't do anything about the coliseum's
rules that I had to leave, they understood how I felt and why I did what I
did, shook my hand, and told me to go on and enjoy the rest of the Memorial
Day week-end.
Joe Newman
Inactive SSgt of Marines
'65-'71
I Gave Her The Cash
Memorial Day weekend I was with some friends in Palm Springs, CA. The ladies
were drinking their wine and when one bottle was empty, one of the ladies
said," Another dead soldier." I was quick to politely inform her of her
poor choice of words. Especially given the meaning of the day.
Later, at dinner in a great barbeque restaurant, I noticed a young Marine in
a red Marine Air T-shirt. He appeared to be waiting for his wife or
girlfriend to return from the head. They were probably in from
29 Palms for a night out. I went to the hostess station, described the
Marine and told her to be sure I got their dinner bill. She said she would
take care of it. Shortly after we finished and paid for our meal, the
Marine's waitress brought me his check. I gave her the cash and told her to
simply say an old Marine took care of his bill. Also to be sure we had
already left the restaurant. The lady mentioned earlier (with the poor
choice of words) asked what I had done. When I told her, she started to cry,
saying it was the nicest gesture she had seen in a long time. I told her
that was how we train the young ones.
Twenty years ago, h*ll ten years ago, I couldn't afford to do such a thing.
However, some day in the future that young Marine may remember his "free
dinner" and do the same thing for another young Marine.
Semper Fi,
JB, 2289879
Short Rounds
Just another example of the outstanding young men and women serving today.
I would love the be allowed to serve now with them, but a 57 year old GySgt
won't be allowed. But, be advised, if given the chance, my sea bag is
packed!
God Bless this fine young Marine and all others on this Memorial Day, along
with the memory of all our Marines and service men and women who have given
all through the years for the cause of World wide freedom and protection of
our wonderful United States of America. Semper Fi my Marines.
Mike
Ok Marine's: I know just how you feel about the U. S. Marine Corps, but
when it comes to being proud of your Son, I can only Imagine how you truly
feel, I was in the U.S. Marine Corps for only 30 Years, and the Corps is
still in my Blood and always will, thanks for the quick note, and a good old
Ooorah to your son and Corps.
Msgt. Hammer
Ooorah!
From another Marine who was there the first time, I hope your stays safe and
keeps clearing those buildings.
Semper Fi,
RD Gagne, Sgt 81MM Plt WPNS Co 1/25
Through this hatch will
pass the finest most respected
fighting man in the world.
A United States Marine
See this Marine Corps door sign...
Semper fi!!
Sgt Grit
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