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Responding to JMA Cpl, 1979-1983. I also served from '79-83 in
Hawaii. I'd bet anything you were in the 3rd Marines. And your
training area was the Kahukus. I know that place well. Probably
my fondest moment was returning to K-Bay in the back of a deuce
full of dirty, tired grunts. A pickup truck with a couple
rednecks followed for awhile, then sped past us. Up the road
away, at a stop sign they pulled over. As we stopped, they
chucked two six-packs of cold beer up into the truck. I never
seen 12 beers disappear so quickly.
Thank you guys whoever you are.
Sgt G.Mckruit G. 2/3 1Mar.Bgde 80-83
Couldn't Understand
Reading letters from former Marines does bring back memories. We
remember the good times and kind of forget the bad times. I was
in Korea in 53 just after the cease fire. I was transferred
from E-2-5 to Bn Supply.
It was not of my choosing, but in the long run a good move. I
remember the exchange of prisoners, both ours and theirs. I
stood guard duty on the main road leading to Freedom Bridge &
Freedom Village. What was remarkable was that the North Koreans
& Chinese were issued new clothing for the exchange. As the
convoys passed us they pelted us with shoes & clothing and
arrived at their release point claiming that this was the way be
treated them by taking the clothes off their backs. It was a
shame that most of them couldn't understand our language, but I
believe they got the message of what the middle finger stood
for.
Jack Nolan 1131869 (1950-1957)
Through Their Enlistments
Sgt Grit,
I've been reading your Newsletter for a long time. Some times
I'd see names or subjects that ring a bell. Within the last few
months, you've run a number of comments or add-ons regarding the
All Arizona Platoon, Platoon 354, in 1964. Those articles
opened up my memory from way back in my mind. You see, I was
one of those that had the Honor of representing the Great State
of Arizona in a special State Platoon, that wasn't very common
back then. My memories, unlike many others, of boot camp have
become vague over the years. I guess your mind covers up or
filters away certain parts of your growing up that you'd rather
not remember. Charles Hightower's comments on the names of our
DI's blew through my mind like a fresh breeze. Prior to his
comments, I couldn't have told you any one of their names. Just
vague outlines of them and things that they did. I believe it
was Sgt Cohen, who loved to demonstrate his knockout abilities
by putting his fist about 1 or 2 inches in front of a recruit's
face, and drive his arm forward, without any draw-back, and
knock the unlucky recruit out cold. He had been some kind of
Champion body builder in the past, and loved to do this "event"
frequently. I do know his next Platoon, which he picked up just
before we graduated, happened to have a couple of "special"
Koreans in it for training as recruits. Now Sgt Cohen didn't
like Asians, and almost immediately pulled his event on one of
the Koreans. Trouble was, the guy didn't go down. Turns out
that both the Koreans were Sergeants Major in the Korean
Marines, and wanted to see actually how our boot camp compared
to theirs, the hard way, without the knowledge of the DIs. They
both were Black Belts in Korean Martial Arts, so it doesn't take
a Brain Surgeon to figure out what the "cause and effect" was. I
never heard the final story of how bad Sgt Cohen was "taught"
respect by the Sergeant Major, but I know it was just a blur to
everyone else standing there.
Hightower! You remember the "cry baby" we had for a number of
weeks beginning boot camp? He couldn't do anything right, and
was as weak as a baby. Even Midnight "thumpings" by the Platoon
didn't make him come around. He just disappeared one day (the
only recruit dropped from our Platoon), and nothing else was
said about him. Turned out he had faked his way into the Marine
Corps, and was only 15 years old. I was just glad we hadn't
been at the Rifle Range with him, cause he would've surely blown
his brains out there.
I've often wondered how many of the original Platoon members
made it through their enlistments. Vietnam was getting hot n
heavy, and losses were heavy. I was one of the lucky one's that
didn't go immediately after MOS training. I waited a couple of
years before I volunteered to go, and made some rank before
reporting to Vietnam. That was the longest year of my life, but
I got out without a scratch. Can't say the same for my helmet
and flak jacket. I've still got a couple big pieces of metal
that my protective gear stopped from hitting me.
I spent just short of 22 years on active duty, then went to work
with the Department of the Navy, as the Marine Corps Casualty
Coordinator for WestPac. Eight years after that I joined the
"Riffed" line and really became a civilian. The Marine Corps
gave me everything a man needs to succeed in life and a career.
Those that followed our foot steps are every bit as good as we
were, if not more so. So when one of us "ole timers" sees a
modern day Marine, we see ourselves in days gone by. Even today
I some times wish I was young enough to get back in the "game"
again.
SEMPER FI to all my fellow Marines (male and female).
Robert Eisenreich (AKA: Ike)
1stSgt, USMC (Ret.) 1964 - 1985
No Come Off
While station at Cp Hansen, I was having a drink after dinner
one evening when this Captain setting next to me told me the
story of getting the commode in his bathroom cleaned properly.
Seems it had developed some unsightly yellow rings. So he ask
his maid to clean it properly. She advised him she had tried
and rings "no come off". He said he instructed her to a brush.
Over the next week or so the rings started to fade. He said
that while in his quarters during lunch that day, he noted that
the rings were gone, so he called the maid and ask how she had
accomplish the task.
She told him that she use brush and cleaner that she had
purchased in Ken Ville. "Work very good" she said. He told her
how pleased he was and ask that she show him. He said she left
and came back with a can of power with instructions in Japanese,
and a symbol that turned out to be a skull and cross bones. She
then retrieved his tooth brush put powder on it and started
scrubbing. Where upon he said he d*mn near lost his cookies
After downing the balance of his drink he said "You know, I had
noticed that my tooth brush was always wet, but I just thought
that she was running it under water when she cleaned the
bathroom". I use that d*mn brush two/three times a day. Now I
have the cleanest commode in Camp and I am waiting for my GD
teeth to fall out" A few others heard this story and every one,
except the poor Captain cracked up.
JACK T. DARBY
Major, USMC (Ret)
096494 and 1358700
Jan 1950/Aug 1976
Out Of The Corps
I've been out of the Corps for over 30 years and always wanted a
tat to show my pride. I worked in a very dirty place and all
cuts got infected. I retired last year after 30 years and got
this a month later. I couldn't think of anything that said
"Marine Corps" any louder than this!
Roger Serpette
Sgt. 70/74
Semper Fi
Down The Alley
Sgt. Grit:
I have a hang-up with numbers; I remember phone numbers going
back many, many years, but I suppose the easiest number was my
service number issued in March, 1949: 1 043 043. I have no
idea what any of my rifle numbers were; either M1s, or M14s,
though.
While I was stationed at MCAS, Yuma from October 1964, to March
1967, a new bowling alley was constructed and the CO, Colonel
Joe McGlothlin, was to officially open it, by rolling the first
ball down the alley. Unknown to the CO, a new, undrilled ball,
was returned to him for the spare shot. Needless to say,
everyone really broke up, when the CO couldn't find any holes
for his fingers and thumb.
I always said, the last place I wanted to be assigned was HQMC,
and it was, I retired in January 1970.
James R. McMahon
Hendersonville, TN
Gunnery Sergeant of Marines
He Flashed His Light
I guess my favorite sea story occurred while I was a young Grunt
with the 4th Marines in Hawaii back in about 1962. We had been
doing the unthinkable...drinking in the squad bay. My little
Cajun buddy Ralph Dagle ad been getting really hammered and was
snooping and pooping around, over and under the bunks and
footlockers when Taps sounded. We were still pretty well wired
and laughing our butts off about Ralph's antics when the OD came
in to do his squad bay check. He made it about 15 feet into the
squad bay, just where it started to get really dark. He
evidently heard a noise from on top of the wall locker. He
flashed his light up to check it out. There was Ralph, on hands
and knees, bare a**naked on top of the wall locker growling at
him. The ODs only remark was "Well, I guess you guys are safe
tonight."
We also pulled one of the best pranks while in the 4th. A
Corporal would sleep in and we would all hang for his sloth. We
decided to fix him and brake him from his wicked ways. He slept
in a single bunk toward the end of the squad bay closest to the
stairway going to the battalion parade ground. Slept real heavy
too. He woke up still in his bunk at morning formation in the
middle of the parade ground. The gunny didn't think it was too
funny.
Semper Fi
Bob Granberry
1961-1968
Silently Wishing
After our tour in Korea (1950-1951), we boarded a General class
ship which was a "liner" compared to the APA's and AKA's on
which we had previously served.
Much to me and my buddy's dismay we were assigned to mess duty
but were relieved to find that we would be working in the
Officer's Mess. Finally, we thought, we are going to be eating
good food. WRONG! It seems the Chief of the mess hated Marines
and called us every name in the book that he had ever learned in
his 20+ years, except Marine.
We we're allowed to eat after his spit and polished galley had
been thoroughly cleaned. And the food that we were fed was not
what the officers had dined on.
This was two weeks of h&ll and we were silently wishing to be
returned to Korea for an extended tour or to find some way for
"pay backs".
Since we we're docking in the morning in Oakland the last meal
the officers ate was steak and eggs. Of course, we got our usual
bowl of cold oatmeal and a piece of dry toast. The chief told us
that we were to report back to our unit after breakfast.
While the Chief was proudly standing by his spit and polish
galley receiving handshakes from the officers for the
outstanding meals he had served, my buddy went to the "reefer"
and stole a dozen or so eggs, put them in a pot with just enough
water to cover them and turned the burner on high. This allowed
us just enough time to make a strategic withdrawal to our unit.
We returned to the galley area, along with a few hundred other
Marines just as the water boiled out and the eggs began
exploding. It sounded like a barrage of "incoming".
You can imagine the mess it made when those eggs exploded. The
chief's spit and polish galley was covered from overhead, to
bulkhead, to deck with egg and shell "shrapnel". And it smelled
like an uncovered slit trench.
The moral to this story? Never under-estimate the retaliatory
efforts of a Marine, whatever his rank.
Thank you Chief.
J Robertson (48-51) One of the Few, the, the Retaliatory Marines.
To Talk To Me
Hey Sarge!
Always enjoy the articles you publish. I joined the Corps
during the war in Korea...served my 8 years on active and
reserve duty...partly with the 1stMarDiv and then with AirFMFPac
at El Toro. In response to the Marine who spoke of "Old
Corps" traditions, i.e,. service numbers and button colors, I
still have my USMC green dress blouse...with BLACK buttons. I
never saw one with brown buttons. I still have several buttons
from my Dad's uniform from WWI...they are black. He served with
the Marines from 1916-1919...did his boot camp stint at Groton,
CN., I guess prior to PI being activated as a training camp.
Then I have a younger bro who served with the 3dMarDiv during
VietNam.
When I was stationed at El Toro in the G-1...MG Christian F.
Schilt was the CG. This gentleman had the CMH...received it as
a young 1Lt in Quilali, Nicaragua, c. 1924. He flew his bi-
plane into the streets under cross fire...brought in ammo and
food to the grunts and then tied wounded onto the wings of his
craft and flew out. He did this 5 times....really a fine
Marine! I was proud to have known him and served under his
Command. One day in G-1...where I was the NCOIC of Overseas and
CONUS assignments...and had access to the Marine Corps General
Orders...a MSgt walked into my office and asked to use my phone.
I recognized his name....MSgt Clemons, I think...he was on
orders from HQMC to go to MAG-13 at Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii. After
he got on my phone he turned to me and said that there was an
officer that wanted to talk with me. I grabbed the phone and
stated..."Sgt Morrell speaking, sir"...the response
was..."Sarge, this is General Shepherd"...I flew out of my chair
at attention...Gen Lemuel Shepherd was Commandant of the Corps!
He told me he was sending me a naval dispatch at 1300 hours
modifying MSgt Clemons orders to read..."when he feels like it,
he can go to Hawaii"...it turns out that MSgt Clemons was Gen
Shepherd's drill instructor when he was in boot camp. MSgt
Clemons had more hash marks than he had room for on his greens.
I will never forget that conversation!
As a post script to the conversation concerning ex-Marines (who
have PCS to guard the streets of heaven) and "former"
Marines....I am neither....I am a Marine and always will be.
Once a Marine, always a Marine!
Enough scuttlebutt for now. Keep those cards and letters
coming! Semper Fi!
Lawrence D. Morrell, Ph.D.
Sgt USMC Korea
Wasting My Folks Money
In March of 1966, I was a nineteen year old college student
wasting my folks money and my time and had visited the Air Force
recruiters office, taken the tests and was waiting to be sent to
AFEES in Atlanta for entry. One Friday afternoon, I was driving
around the court house square in Dublin and noticed the Marine
Corps "A" frame sign, remembered the number and called the
recruiter when I got home. Saturday morning he was sitting at
my dining room table and Monday I was on the bus for Atlanta -
delayed enlistment until May 12th. That night is when I saw the
yellow footprints in front of receiving barracks, MCRD, Parris
Island. The next day, we were picked up as Platoon 184, C
Company, First Bn with SSgt Paul A Rossano as SDI and Sgt Leslie
Clark (can't remember the other DI but he was first class - made
me squad leader). Boot camp was eight weeks then, due to the
Vietnam war. I received a steam burn on my left hand while on
mess duty, spent a couple of weeks in the Naval Hospital at
Beaufort, a few days in Hospital Platoon and then joined Platoon
199, B Company just before the rifle range. Senior DI was SSgt
Mullins along with Sgt. Young and Sgt. Shrewsberry, all
outstanding Marines. Just wanted to thank Rossano, Clark, (?),
Mullins, Young and Shrewsberry for making me a Marine. No
other mentor, professor, coworker or friend has had the effect
on me that these men had and almost forty-one years later, these
thanks are long overdue. I would very much like to hear from
any of these men along with anyone in 184 and 199.
Ronald K. Bell
Nope
We were given Service Numbers in 1969. Mine is still memorized
(258 52 26), and, believe we switched to SSN in 1970. Anyway, in
1970, I approached a Master Gunnery Sergeant at IIIMAF, Camp
Courtney, Okinawa. He had 35 years active duty. I asked him if
he was "Old Corps". His reply, "Nope, that was before my
time"......
Jim Beck
Sgt. USMC
1969 - 1972
Marines Wear Trousers
Here's one for ya. This is no sea story. I received my draft
notice at age 26 while serving in the Army, 1st Bn 28th
Infantry, Black Lions, 1st Infantry Division, Phuoc Vinh, RVN.
To make it doubly ridiculous is the fact that I'd already served
a four year tour in the Marines, Mar. 59 - Mar 63. I wrote a
very polite letter to the draft board telling them I would be
more than happy to report for my physical if they could talk the
Army into letting me out of Vietnam about seven months short of
my 12 month tour. I never did receive a reply.
Went to PI and don't recall any yellow footprints, but that may
be because I was so busy trying to keep from soiling my pants (
that's right, pants. Only Marines wear trousers. Pants are worn
by sailors and split-tails. ) while several insane monsters,
wearing Smokey Bear hats, were screaming at us to get off "
their bus! " Plt. 317, Nissen huts, Mar - Jun ' 59. They were
constructing brick buildings while I was there, but those
civilians sure were taking their time about it. I mean, they
didn't work just because it was raining, what kind of civilian
s&&t is that ??
Tattoos: when I was in the Corps it was considered a Navy sailor
kind of thing to have numerous or ornate tattoos. The most I
ever saw on a Marine was four, two bluebirds (one above each
nipple) and two black panthers (one clawing its way up each
forearm.) Back in the day you couldn't see any tattoos, unless
the Marine had one on his hand (which was very rare) because
there was no such thing as a short sleeved shirt in the Corps.
As far as one of those tats climbing up ones neck, they just
weren't in vogue.
EGA: Never heard this until a couple of years ago, it was always
Eagle, Globe and Anchor, never initials. We received ours prior
to final inspection in Boot Camp, one for our pee cutter and two
to put on the collar of our Troops. You know, Tropical worsted;
shirt, trousers and cover. ( In the Army they were called TW's.)
Semper Fi: I heard or read a story about CMC being told by a
wounded Marine, "Semper Fi." I got a laugh out of that one
because when I was in the Corps it meant " Screw you, buddy."
Semper Fidelis and Semper Fi meant entirely different things,
back then.
That's enough for this installment so I'll sign off.
Kirk J. James, Cpl 1841667, 0341 ( 81's) Mar 59 - Mar 63 USMC
Sgt 12724303 11Bravo Dec 64 - Nov 67 US Army
Only Unsuccessful Assault In Marine Corps History
I am sorry to admit that my stay at the E-club may have aided
the only known Marine assault that was a semi failure. During
the summer of 1965 or was in 1966 (I'm getting old) I was with
the 6th Engineer Battalion, USMCR undergoing amphibious training
at Coronado, CA. This training was prior to our transport to San
Clemente Island to perform various construction projects.
While at Coronado I noticed a pen near our Quonset huts that
housed a goat. There was a building near the goat with two
sailors and a flood light that was on the goats cage at night.
I inquired as to the reason a goat was housed with apparent
security and was advised by the sailors that the goat the navy
mascot and was to be used in an upcoming parade. I thought I saw
an opportunity to enhance Marine / Navy inter service rivalry.
I presented my idea to Marines, McDermott, Miyake and others
whose names I do not recall. The idea had over whelming
acceptance. We reconnoitered the area and found that the pen
housing the goat was temporary and not secured, it simply rested
on the ground. We decided that Miyake, being very agile (2nd
degree black belt in judo) could climb to the roof of the
building and take out the flood light. When the lights went out
the rest of us (number of participants had now climbed to over a
dozen) would rush the pen, pick up one side and while the rest
held up the pen a couple of Marines would sn*tch the goat.
The plan sounded fool proof, two sailors guarding a goat, what
are they going to do? Nothing. After all we're UNITED STATES
MARINES. Assault is what we do.
On the night of the assault, as we were to leave aboard an LST
the following morning for San Clemente Island, we retired to the
E- club to celebrate our upcoming fool proof plan. We had the
cooperation of our NCO's, as they had arranged to provide us
with a six-by to transport the goat on board the LST. We planned
to release the goat on San Clemente to join the hundreds of
other goats on the island.
It was a festive night as we knew we could not fail. The beer
flowed freely, too freely. I awoke the next morning to hear
about the assault, I had apparently consumed too many beers to
be woke, as had most of the others. A few had remained sober
enough to attempt the assault but encountered one aspect we had
not envisioned in our plan, the Navy's communication system.
When the Few and the Proud approached the goat area the sailors
simply called the shore patrol. Multiple shore patrol units
arrived and the assault was repulsed.
The only saving factor was that two Marines, whom I don't recall
as part of the assault plan, were able to obtain the Navy flag
from the flag pole and it made it's way to San Clemente with the
unit. However while on there island a Navy plane landed and the
Navy demanded the flag. It was returned after threats of
disciplinary action. The plane and demand for the flag's return
fortunately occurred before the flag was cut. The two Marines
that had the flag had decided that the only fair way to decide
who would keep the trophy would be to cut it in half.
It was actually a great training lesson. Never forget the
enemy's communication.
Dan Corum
Corporal USMCR
1963-1969
Busted For Staying
Here is a story from Camp Schwab. I loved it there and we were
given two sea bags of 782 gear for 'Nam.
During Christmas 1967, a platoon of us spent a month at Camp
Schwab, Okinawa. We were given no Liberty or money to run into
Henico (sp) the little town close by. Our records hadn't caught
up so we got a "flying $20" every so often.
They believed busy Marines are happy Marines. We had work
details everyday including cutting the grass at the Japanese
women employees quarters. Some of us became experts at dodging
work details. You could go to the MARS station and call home by
Ham Radio, or sneak off and run down to the beaches and swim. We
found the beach house that rented sail boats, or loaned fishing
gear. My buddy caught a foot long Moray Eel and I caught a
poisonous Lion Fish. No more swimming for us. We just watched
the Sea Cucumbers.
We got busted for staying in the mess hall and missing morning
muster. Confined to barracks, I checked finding my name not on
any cancelled liberty list. I went to the Enlisted man's Club
and ran into the Sergeant. I don't know who's eyes were bigger.
He put a chaser with me to ensure I scrubbed the shower with a
toothbrush.
Larry Tooley
Their Cousins
My wife and I were at our grandson's baseball game the other day
and she was being bothered by some kind of little bug. She
asked me why they weren't bothering me and I told her they knew
better than to bother me because their cousins told them that I
was at Parris Island and I could not be effected by them.
Semper Fi
Ralph Doherty (Sgt. 57-66)
Simply Shook His Head
Sgt Grit,
I enjoy your news letters, especially reading some of the
funny sea stories submitted by your faithful readers. I decided
to tell a little story of my own:
I was stationed at Marine Corps Air Station Tustin just
prior to the base being closed in the mid-90s and worked in
Marine Aviation Logistics Squadron (MALS) 16, Ground Support
Equipment (GSE) Shop as a 6073 (Aviation Support Equipment
Electrician). One fine Marine Corps morning we received a case
of common rubbing alcohol from supply. No one was sure who
ordered the alcohol or for what purpose so we decided to have a
little fun with it. One of the brainiacs in our shop soon
discovered that rubbing alcohol was highly flammable and decided
that it would make the perfect "weapon". Being in the Air Wing,
the only time we got to fire any weapons was during our annual
qualification at the rifle range so we decided to conduct a
little "field training" of our own. We located several empty
spray bottles and proceeded to fill them with the rubbing
alcohol. Now armed to the teeth, we divided ourselves into
groups of "hostiles" and "friendlies" and took up strategic
positions around the compound. Suddenly. all heck broke loose as
us "good guys" attacked the well dug in positions of the
"enemy". Fire was every where and all of us were getting hit
pretty badly. Despite the heavy fire, we overran the hostile
forces and victory soon followed. Afterwards, all of us soaked
to the bone in rubbing alcohol we decided to call it quits and
take a smoke break. (Here's where things got interesting) One of
the guys decided to amuse himself by dipping his finger in a
bottle of rubbing alcohol and lighting it on fire, his version
of a human torch. After a pretty cool pyrotechnics display, his
finger began to get a little warm and he tried to blow it out.
Well, as hard as he blew the flame on his finger would not go
out. In a panic, he tries to put his finger out on his pant leg,
which is soaked in rubbing alcohol. See where this is going???
His pants now on fire, we jump on him to smother the flames, of
course forgetting that we ourselves are also doused in alcohol.
To make a long story short, we managed to put the flames out and
escape any injuries. After checking ourselves over to make sure
all body parts were still intact we began to laugh at our
stupidity. It was then that I looked up and noticed our XO
standing across the compound, enjoying his morning coffee and
cigar. He had witnessed the entire episode. I could tell he
wanted to come over and chew us new ones but with cigar and hand
and a bunch of rubbing alcohol-soaked Marines, he thought better
of it. He simply shook his head and pretended not to see a
thing. Phew....
Those were the days!
A huge Semper Fi to all my brothers and sisters fighting the
good fight at this moment. I know s**t is deep for you but I
hope that reading stories like this one helps you to remember
better times of your own. Stay safe and know that we here at
home are behind you 100%
Sgt. Steve Chargois
1996-2000
Once a Marine, always a Marine!
Letters From A Buddy
It was the spring of 1966 when a buddy and I decided to enlist
in the Corps. We arrived at MCRD San Diego in April of 1966,
and were assigned to PLT 1001, 1st Bn.
Sometime during the first few weeks of our stay, we were invited
to join the D.I.s in the Duty Hut. This was accomplished by a
scream of "Barnett and Cornell, get your a##es in here. NOW !".
Repeated in chorus by the entire platoon.
As I ran to the hatch of the duty hut, I was met by my buddy,
flying backwards out the hatch. He had forgotten to knock and
request permission to enter. After we had untangled ourselves
and properly asked to enter, we were standing tall in front of
our junior D. I., a Corporal at the time. He was holding two
letters in his hand and if not literally foaming at the mouth
then doing a very nice imitation of a mad dog. He proceeded to
use language that only a Marine recruit would understand, to
inform us that he had been to the base post office to get
letters that had been sent to us. These letters had been sent
by another "buddy" of ours who had enlisted several months prior
to us and was doing sea duty on board USS Galveston , somewhere
in the south pacific. He had addressed these letters in a
manner that, was sure to attract attention to Pvts Barnett and
Cornell, and not in a positive way..
Our D.I. proceeded to speak to us for several minutes regarding
our friends, family and heritage. He also informed us of the
necessitates of providing the proper address, etc. if we
expected to receive mail. Again this was all done using
language common to only a Marine D.I.
He then requested we open our letters which he had been so kind
to hand deliver to us and advise him of the contents. My
buddies letter read.." Jack, F##k You. Bob." . My letter read
"Rick, F##k you too. Bob.
Needless to say that this unleashed another tirade form our D.I.
He demanded to know who the @#$%$#^ was that would send such a
missive. Being good Marine recruits (and scared half to death)
we immediately "gave up" our friend.. who had wisely not
included a return address. We were then politely requested to
write our friend and advise him that such letters were not
appropriate communication between fellow Marines and that if our
D.I. ever had the opportunity, he would like to discuss the
finer points of letter writing with our friend.
This all happened over 40 years ago and we are all still friends
and have had many laughs over the "Letters from a buddy".
Though later, while going thru schools Bn. At MCRD, my buddy ,
Bob, did visit me, I didn't introduce him to my former D.I.
Barnett, R.M.
2278158
LCPL, U.S.M.C.
1966 / 1968.
Dear John Letter
Sgt Grit:
I was in platoon #491 at MCRD in 1952 ... we were probably
the last platoon to get khaki's and also the first to get
"tropicals" ... the last platoon to get 2 pair 6" boondockers
(with leggings worn during 4 weeks infantry training at Tent
Camp #2), and the first to get 2 pair of the black combat boots
... the last to get the WWII metal USMC buttons on dungaree
jackets. (Donated to the Gold Star Museum at Camp Dodge,
Johnston, Iowa. Give your "precious stuff" to museums so your
next of kin won't have to deal with the problem.) I also gave
my "Dear John" letter received after 2 months in Korea to the
Museum, (in 1999), and the Curator checked and said it was only
the 3rd Dear John he could find in existence in War Museums in
the World. (Both pair of boondockers had to be re-soled/heeled
near the end of boot camp, a week before we graduated. I well
remember the DI's yelling: "Heels! Heels Heels!") All this
was before the maltreatment BS that came later! When I reached
Treasure Island upon returning from Korea ... I was offered
another stripe if I would be a DI at Dago ... I told them: "NO,
because, if I treated recruits they way my boot platoon had been
treated ... I'd be court-martialed."
PS: One of my dungaree jackets issued in boot camp had the
herringbone pattern with the "grenade pockets" .... also donated
to the museum.
Sgt JJ Kramer 52-55
Married An Actress
Sgt. Grit,
My junior DI at Parris Island was pulled from DI duty to play
the role as Jack Webb's assistant in the Movie The DI. His name
was Cpl. John G. Brown, the meanest sh*t we had encountered on
PI. needless to say we were glad when he failed to show up and a
new Jr. DI had replaced him, we did not know what happened to
him until after graduation. He got out of the Corps after the
movie and married an actress he met in Hollywood. He was the
Buck Sgt. that interrogated the fire watch. There are recruits
in Marines from our platoon and earlier platoons that would like
to find him today.
Carl Fishel, Sgt. USMC
Over Texas
Once upon a time there was a Captain at Cherry Point, NC who was
a pilot of the new A6A Intruders that we had just acquired from
the Navy at Oceania, VA. This Captain liked to be a semi-hard
^ss to a few of the enlisted Marines in the squadron. One night
before the squadron was to fly across country to Yuma for
training in the dessert a certain enlisted Marine went out to
the Captain's aircraft and shorten the relief tube that is
attached to the middle of the ejection seat between the pilot's
legs. This tube has an elongated funnel on the end and is what
the pilot uses to relieve himself on long flights or when the
need may arise. Some where over Texas the next day after
refueling in the air and maybe taking a drink of water the
Captain had need to use this relief tube. He could get it
unlatched but with the tube being shortened about 6 to 9 inches
it just would not reach up beyond the top of the seat. Needless
to say in trying to use the relief tube the Captain wet him self
considerably. And the B/N sitting in the right hand seat could
not but witness the hilarious episode. Once this news leaked
out Captain "Shorty" as he was nicknamed by a few, seem to be
considerably more friendly and easy to get along with. To this
day the name of the Marine who shorten the relief tube is safe
with me.
Sgt. Marty Maners USMC 1963-1967
Semper Fi
Paint Overs
I read your newsletter with a lot of interest and amusement.
The "old timers" who contribute rekindle memories of the terrors
that befell us at that island many years ago. They bring a lot
of laughs among the group that assemble at the Marine Corps
League every Friday night. I don't know if they still use terms
like yardbird, skinhead, tie-ties, clothes line watch, sand pit
and mess duty anymore, but there have been times when I think
many of us could write a book on the experiences from the early
50s era. I'm sure those who came later feel the same way, Some
of the experiences mentioned bring back memories that I've long
forgotten. The letter written about using ink to put stripes on
the sleeves of utilities brought a smile to my face. Some of
those jobs on the sleeves were pretty bad. The paint overs
after promotion were especially bad. While at ITR at Pendleton,
I even saw some who put a small X over the top of their PFC
stripe to show they had been busted. I saw a Lieutenant jumping
all over one of the bustees in a chow line and the practice
stopped, and the blacked out stripe had all appeal of one who
had just come out of the brig. I don't know if stamping of
clothing with the rubber marker is still used, but a buddy from
the League tells the story of a recruit in a group following
instructions from the DI, stamping his name on the outside of
the back of his shirt collar instead of the inside, and it
wasn't noticed until the platoon was readying for final
inspection. All of us can imagine the interest stimulated in
the DI. I don't think skinhead, yardbird or orifice were used
in this encounter. Keep those tidbits coming. Semper Fi to all
you one time Sbirds out there.
Frank Athis PI Class of 52
Yakking It Up
Sgt. Grit,
Just recalling some things when stationed at H&MS 36, MCAS
Futenma, Okinawa, Japan in 1978-1979.
I worked in the van complex near headquarters and the barracks
where we lived was on the opposite side of the runway. So
usually you had to go a mile and a half around the runway to get
to the complex. During the day there were cattle cars and buses
to shuttle you over but we were working the graveyard shift. So
many times we had to walk it. The runway lights were usually
off by the time we were leaving for work so it was much easier
to just cut across the runway for a 1/4 mile walk even though
that was forbidden. We were never noticed except by the dog at
the firehouse. There was one night we didn't chance it though.
Jimmy Carter was visiting Okinawa and Air Force One was parked
on the runway. We thought it might not be a good idea to be
walking around the runway in the dark that night.
Another time one of the guys in the shop was fixing some two-way
radios and wanted me to help him test them. So he stayed inside
the van complex while I walked out and headed over to the Red
Baron, a small sandwich shop with some other goodies, on that
side of the flight line. We were yakking it up on the radios
and using some "colorful" language back and forth. Suddenly a
Cpl from the firehouse comes on the radio and says we're using
the frequency for the firehouse and to watch the language. I
tell him sorry and we keep talking as I'm walking back. Now a
MSgt from the firehouse comes on the radio and starts chewing me
out for using an emergency frequency. Then he says he wants my
name, rank, and serial number. He doesn't know who I am or
where I am so I'm not about to tell him anything. Then my
friend I was talking to is hearing my side of the conversation
but not the MSgt's. He comes on the radio and says, "Hey Hower,
who are you talking to?" I didn't want the MSgt to hear that!
So I pushed the emergency alert button to transmit a high
pitched squeal until I got back to the van complex to block
anything my friend was saying until I could shut him up. I
heard the MSgt say when I finally let go of the emergency
button, "Very Funny". They never caught us.
SSgt Rick Hower
1977-1981, 1987-1993
Korea 51-525
Sgt Grit
A friend on mine gave me this Post Card from USAA. It is a
Memorial Service held after the Bn came off line. Each time we
would come back to a Reserve Area we would hold a Service for
all the Marines we lost in the last engagements.
I would guess that the Marines at Present Arms were the Squad or
Fire Team Leaders representing the KIA. I did not know if you
would like it and maybe add it to your News Letter or a filler
for one of your Catalogs.
Semper Fi.
Floyd D. Newkirk, Wpns. Co. 1st Bn 1st Reg Korea 51-52
June 21, 1951 1st Bn 5th Reg 1st Div Me. Service 001
Finding The Holy Grail
I enlisted in Jan 61 and was issued and allowed to wear the
emblem from day one. It took 13 weeks to earn it but we were
allowed to wear it. We were the last series to wear the emblems
on the collar 's of the tropical uniforms in our Boot Plt
photo's at Dago. Plt 1015 series honor Plt. There were still a
lot of the: OLD CORPS' emblem's around and finding one was like
finding the holy grail. Same as finding a serviceable set of
Herringbone utilities. To me the Old Corps is the Marines who
were in at the time of the old rank structure E-3 Cpl ,E-4 Sgt ,
E-5 S/Sgt etc. I still call myself a boot because it was drummed
into us at the time (46 years ago) That there was the" Old
Corps, The New Corps, And Now this Sh-t" And that we were so low
that we had to look up to see whale shi-t on the bottom of the
ocean. The only thing lower than a Marine recruit was a sailor
recruit.
Semper Fi
Sgt Doyle Clark
1961-69
B-1-1
2nd cag
Rvn 67-68
Con Thien
Back in 10 November of 1967, 2/9 was in the Con Thien area. The
mess hall delivered, to the field, the biggest birthday cake I
had ever seen. It was on a 3/4" sheet of plywood and had to be
carried by eight Marines, due to its weight. The CO made sure
every Marine got a peace of it.
During the cake eating the CO promoted several officers.
One in particular was promoted to Captain. After the usual words
were given the CO, still with a straight face, told him he was
to be transported back to the rear on the truck that brought the
cake. Once there he was to report to the medical office for a
much needed surgery procedure. We were all shocked at this
because there did not seem to be anything wrong with the Capt.
The CO then explained the procedure to be performed. "Sir, you
will have 9 sq. inches removed from your stomach area. In that
space you will have a 1/2" sheet of Plexiglas inserted. This
will enable you to see when your head is up your a**." We had a
good laugh on that one.
It is also interesting that I often find people who need
that operation.
John Halpin
2/9 Viet-Nam
Hail Of 30-06
Not all the training pranks were in the enlisted ranks. We were
on the Quantico range for BAR familiarization as part of our
1-57 Basic School. We moved back to the 500 yard mark and
someone noticed that there was a trooper style Gunny hat at the
200 yard mark. Word spread quickly. When the word came to
Commence Fire, the hat disappeared in a hail of 30-06 rounds.
Everyone on the line got the pleasure of making a cash donation
for a replacement. Not all the lessons learned that day were
from DI's
Ron Donahue Lt.1-57 [50th Reunion Aug 23]
"Old Corps" and "New Corps"
Dear Grit,
How's this for a "dividing line between "Old Corps" and "New
Corps" I was in when we had steel pot helmets, 1911 A1 .45s, and
plain green flak vests, M-16 auto riflemen, and M115 jeeps,
that's old Corps to me. Now it's Fritzs, 9mm, camo vests, SAWs
and Hummers, that would be considered new Corps to me.
Got a question to throw out to the faithful, when I was in, the
steel pot helmet was used as a wash basin, cooking pot, barf
bucket (I always got sick riding in the back of tracks) and
seat, what do you use for those things now? Can't cook in the
Kevlar ones, can you?
Always Faithful,
Doc Lunsford
G 2/9
Without Hesitation
To: L.A. Whalen's post concerning the EGA. Yes, SOME reservist
did not go through boot camp when we were called up in July '50.
If you had certain, defined requirements, you HAD TO GO to
Korea, as they needed live warm bodies, quick, to fill out the
Division so they could make Inchon. Quite a few in the 11th
Marines so qualified and were gone, without hesitation. The
rest, ALL went to Diego, to learn how to spell Marine. And
don't know about the EGA situation, but do know this, the enemy,
when they are shooting at you didn't ask whether you were a
regular or anything else, you were in trouble. And a whole bunch
of us boots wound up on the lines, 24/7.
And on June 9th, '51, 56 years ago, last Saturday, we lost a
good Marine that day that was physically hit, BY A MORTAR ROUND,
Alexander, "Baggs" Marchese, and WE REMEMBER!
SF
NC 1108487
C-1-1
Chesty's last regimental command.
Smoker Stand
Great place to relive the past. Ordered a green utility cover,
received fast did not think of the changes that must have been
made. The NEW Corps cover is lighter weight material, the old
was heaver material lighter green color, no sewn-in square
corners and had a herringbone pattern. We didn't have the camo
utilities. We didn't even have boots till a little later, issues
lace up leggings. Had a service number that indicted what an old
a salt you were. Boot camp at sand flea heaven, (P.I.) we lived
in tents, don't remember the yellow foot prints; do remember a
line to toe on upon arrival. Not me but a recruit found smoking
by the DI, who was a police officer in Norfolk called up to
active duty, had the smoker stand in the middle of the platoon
street, with a bucket, a towel and cigar the cigar was lit,
bucket over his head the towel around the neck and told to smoke
all he wanted..
DEW, SSgt.
1181914
1950-1959
"All Present Or Accounted For, Sir"
Sgt. Grit:
Every lieutenant is convinced that his gunnery sergeant is the
best in the Marine Corps, but in my case I think it may be true.
Or at least I have a major contender.
After serving an initial officer tour with 3d Tanks, 3d MarDiv,
on Okinawa I was transferred in the mid-1970's to Marine
Barracks, Subic Bay, Republic of the Philippines, as a Guard
Officer.
I was assigned to Separate Guard Company, Cubi Point Naval Air
Station, which had its barracks next to the Seabees up on the
hill above the Air Station, just across the road from the Cubi
Point Officers' Club.
Separate Guard Co. was a task-organized unit, primarily
responsible for providing security for the U.S. Naval Magazine,
which at 20+ square miles was the largest American ammunition
processing and storage area in the Pacific, and which contained
the "go to war" reserve ammo for the Pacific Fleet and the 3d
MarDiv as well as munitions for Clark AFB. It also contained a
Nuclear Exclusion Area containing special weapons. Separate
Guard was the size of a small battalion, commanded by a major
with a captain X.O., and consisted of three company-sized
platoons commanded by first lieutenants. I commanded 2d
Platoon, and Gunnery Sergeant Earl Bartlett was my platoon
sergeant.
Gunny Bartlett was a superlative Staff NCO. He had played
football for the Marine Corps back in the States, and went into
the Reserves and played professional ball as a lineman for the
Pittsburgh Steelers for a couple of years prior to returning to
active duty as a career Marine. He was over six feet tall,
Black, weighed about 245 pounds--- none of which was anything
but muscle---and had the only perfectly round head I have ever
seen. He had a head like a shaved bowling ball; when he wore
his utility cover the bill was perfectly straight, not curved
down on the corners as usual. He didn't have a neck. His ears
kind of sloped down into his axe-handle-wide shoulders and his
huge arms, bulging with muscle (He had a very hard time rolling
up the sleeves of his utilities, and had to surreptitiously slit
the lower seams to make it work.) terminated in hands the size
of small hams which hung below his knees. He had a deep bass
voice that could be heard, as a result of a tour as a drill
instructor, upwind at about a half a mile. And to put the icing
on the cake, belying his outward Neanderthal appearance, he was
a very bright guy, and had a wicked sense of humor.
Gunny was the most squared-away Marine I ever served with. The
Philippines is a very hot and humid place, and he liked to set
the example for the troops, so at lunch he would march over to
his hooch and "break starch" on a clean set of utilities and don
a freshly spit- shined pair of boots for the afternoon. A
bachelor, he lived in a room in the Staff NCO Quarters just
across the road from our headquarters barracks. He once invited
me over to his room. He had put up a long piece of steel water
pipe the length of one end of his room and on the pipe hung a
dozen starched and pressed utility uniforms. Above them was a
shelf containing 12 starched and pressed utility covers. Under
them were six pairs of spit-shined combat boots.
I was a married officer on an accompanied tour, but as many of
you may know, a permanent assignment to the Philippines was
paradise for single Marines. I was always impressed by their
stamina. We worked "24 on/24 off" at Separate Guard. The U.S.
dollar was worth so much in the P.I in the '70's that two or
three enlisted Marines could afford to rent and furnish a house
in Oolongapo City outside the gate, hire both a maid/cook and
the appropriate number of live-in hookers, and still have money
left over to bar-hop practically every night until the midnight
curfew chased them home. They would party until midnight, head
home and "refresh" their girls until 0200-0300, and then head
back in to the base at 0500 to make our 0600 P.T. formation.
After calisthenics we would generally run anywhere from 3 to 5
miles... and given that our barracks was at the top of the
highest hill in the vicinity, that meant running the back end of
the run uphill. Running next to my Marines was like running
past the San Miguel Brewery as they sweated out the last
evening's consumption, and periodically one of the troops would
run to the side of the road and barf up beer into the jungle
prior to rejoining the formation.
Morning formation in uniform of the day was at 0745 in the
parking lot in front of the Barracks. The company would form up
in three platoon blocks fronted by their platoon commanders, and
the C.O. would march out and call the formation to attention for
Colors and to pass the day's activities, assignments and
training schedule. Prior to the C.O.'s arrival the Company
Gunny would poll the platoon sergeants for "present for duty"
status.
One well-remembered morning, when Gunny Bartlett was checking
personnel status with our squad leaders, the third squad leader,
Sgt. Etsheidt, reported "one man missing". Gunny asked, "Who?"
The squad leader told him that one of his Marines had come in
early that morning from town, still drunk out of his mind, had
hit the rack, missed P.T. because he couldn't be woken, and when
he was woken again just prior to formation said, "F---k it...
Tell Gunny I ain't comin'". Gunny Bartlett never missed a beat.
He called the platoon to attention, turned over control to the
1st squad leader, did an about face, saluted smartly, and asked,
"Sir, permission to be excused for zero 5 mikes?" "Granted,
Gunny", I replied.
Now our barracks were non-air-conditioned tropical barracks,
which meant they were sturdy steel-reinforced concrete
structures that had screened sides with floor-to-ceiling
aluminum louvers that could be cranked out to let the breeze
through the entire structure or shut to keep out the monsoon
rains. My platoon was billeted in four man rooms on the "second
deck", which had a set of outside metal fire stairs leading up
to the steel door on the end of the barracks. It was these
steps that Gunny Bartlett ascended in his quest for the missing
Marine. The rest of the platoon had been given "at ease" out on
the parking lot, and necks craned back towards the barracks as
my Marines followed Gunny's echoing progress up the stairs,
through the door, and down the hall towards the miscreant's
room. He arrived in the room of the hung-over young Marine---a
private who had been assigned to the Marine Barracks right out
of Boot Camp and who had only been with the Barracks for about
three months---and the second deck of the building reverberated
with a series of bellows, clangs and crashes. The Marines in
platoon formation cringed as whispered exclamations of "Oh, Sh-
t!" were heard. (Gunny was famous for his up- close and
personal "counseling sessions" with uncooperative young
Marines.) There were further sounds of scuffling heard echoing
down the second deck as Gunny and his charge approached the
steel fire door at the end of the barracks.
As luck would have it, the major opened the first deck door at
the end of the barracks on the way to take the morning formation
just as Gunny and his burden reached the door above. There was
a resounding "CLANG!" as the steel door was kicked open into the
steel railing of the fire stairs, and then a kind of horrible
warbling "AAAAAHHHHH!" as the young Marine, who was about 5 feet
9 and 150 pounds, sailed out of the open door gaining altitude
as he cleared the railing and fell to the grass at the end of
the barracks, clad in one rubber flip- flop and a pair of issue
white boxer shorts. He landed right in front of the C.O., on
his back, and after a minute of trying to regain his breath, got
to his knees and elbows just as Gunny Bartlett marched out of
the door and down the stairs, squaring away his military
alignment as he came. Gunny made the corner and saw the Skipper
standing there with his hands on his hips, looking at the kid on
the grass. Gunny snapped of a crisp salute and a "Good morning,
Sir!"
The major returned the salute, looked bemusedly at the kid on
the grass, looked back at Gunny Bartlett, and said, "Gunny, did
I see what I just saw?" Gunny replied, "No sir, the Major
didn't". The C.O., nodded and replied, "Very well then, Gunnery
Sergeant, carry on.", turned, and walked down the sidewalk out
to the formation.
Gunny Bartlett walked over to the Marine, picked him up by the
back of the neck and the elastic waist of his skivvy shorts,
frog-marched him over to the end of the third squad, planted him
next to the last Marine at the end of the file, and with formal
facing movements marched to the front of the platoon, called
them to attention, did a crisp about face, saluted, and
reported, "All present or accounted for, Sir."
I loved the guy. With him as my platoon sergeant I had the
easiest job in the Marine Corps.
Don Kaag
LTC, Armor, AUS(Ret.)
...and former Sgt. & Cpt. of Marines
H&ll No
Our Marine Corps League Detachment # 1233, The Fox Valley
Marines, marched in the Aurora, IL Memorial Day parade. One of
our unit's Marines, 87 years young, Lee, a WWII Marine from
Batavia, IL, was having a hard time keeping up, and we keep
asking him if he wanted to drop out! He kept saying h&ll no, I
will not drop out, and I can make it! We finally had to sit him
down and call an ambulance to take him to the end of the parade
route! All I have to say is that Lee is one h&ll of a Marine,
who would not drop out! Men like Lee are what the Marine Corps
is about!
Former. Sgt. Harold E. Withey Jr.( Hal)
Medevac Crew Member
To Doc Byars Sgt Grit #150
Doc, there will Never, be a time in my life that a Corpsman of
any era has a door shut in his face. You have earned the right
to the EGA, you and others like you have ensured that Marines
like me and my fellows could come home. I was a medevac crew
member in RVN, (HMM-364 1-67 to 4-69 out of Marble Mountain), I
saw what you did, how you did it and D#% it, if you hadn't have
done it, the very people that shut the door may not have been
able to do it.
SSgt Rod Jerls
Vietnam 1967-1969
U S Marines 1965 - 1978
Out In Public
Sgt. Grit,
I recently found myself at my local mall and came across a site
I never thought I'd see. Two Marine Pfc's in camouflage
utilities. I approached and asked them why they were out in
public in a work uniform. Their response was that their NCOIC
authorized it even though it's against uniform regulations.
I then called the recruiting office and talked to their Gunny.
He tried to convince me that HQMC has given recruiters the
discretion of allowing this, although he does not have a
directive to reference. I called B.S. and proceeded to let this
gunny know that if he wants his subordinates to wear cammies in
public then he should have joined the Army. We are different!
We hold ourselves to a better standard, and this is
unacceptable! His response was that if I had ever been a
recruiter I would understand his decision and that kids today
like the cammie uniform over the deltas. My response was that
if someone wants to join my Marine Corps for a uniform, than I
don't want him. Earning that uniform is a by product of
something much greater.
When I asked how I can contact his C.O. he responds that he
doesn't know.
Could I get some feedback to see if I'm off base here.
To all my fellow Marines who have served, Thank You and Semper
Fi!
To all of the family members of our Marines, God Bless you and
you are in my prayers.
Greg
Cpl '83-'89
Memorial Day Services
Mount St. Helens Detachment 889, Longview Washington were the
Honor Guard.
David Schooling
Screwups
Sgt Grit
June 12 1957 Pete Lorenz and I left the old Kansas City air
port for MCRD . We got off the plane at San Diego air port and
asked where MCRD was in the early hours of June 13. We were
pointed in the direction of the main gate and we walked carrying
our sea bags as we were reservists. It seemed like a mile or so
in the dark we see this lighted area which was the gate. We were
grabbed and taken to receiving barracks and then after a day or
so of standing [ I don't remember the yellow foot prints ] we
were made up Plt 356. There we met S/SGT JOE CURLEY and SGT T J
HAYEK. and our lives have never been the same. I have talked to
both of them in the last year or so but they didn't remember me
as S/SGT CURLEY said he only remembered the screwups.
Dale Hartley 1607484
Marines Call Me, Gunny
Hey Sgt Grit,
Thanks for all the great stories and great quotes. I've posted
some of those quotes in the connex box where my soldiers keep
there weapons. The men love them.
I am a former Marine currently serving in Baghdad with a
deployed National Guard unit. We have several former Marines in
the unit. The Marines in Baghdad have been great to my guys. I
am a Sergeant First Class (E-7) but all the Marines call me,
"Gunny".
Enclosed some pics of the Marine Corps Birthday Ball last year
in Baghdad and a pic of me at work.
Semper Fidelis,
SFC McSheffrey
Somewhat Slurred
Everywhere I go I wear something that denotes that I am a
MARINE. 1969-1974. On Memorial Day, my wife and I were in a
grocery store locally, picking up some last minute things for a
family picnic with my brothers-in-law. Many local groceries hire
baggers that are to some degree 'challenged'. The baggers at
our lane struck up a conversation with my wife and being hard of
hearing, I tend to sometimes tune out things I may not 100%
hear. As we walked away I did hear, however, this young man,
around 20, yell out," Semper Fi, MARINE, thank you for your
service". His speech was somewhat slurred and his gait somewhat
unsteady due to his illness, but he snapped to attention and
rendered a d*mn good salute. As a Good MARINE, I returned the
salute, walked up to him and shook his hand. We talked briefly,
and in between what I could not understand and not hear, I found
out that his father and brother were both MARINES. He always
wanted to be one but could not. I always have an abundance of
pins somewhere on my hat/vest/shirt. I took off an EGA from my
hat and pinned it on him. He was in shock and I had to exit
quickly before this one MARINE broke down in public. I was in
the store a week later and the store manager stopped me and
thanked me. The boy, Tommy, just loved the pin and was so
excited that even a week later, he was telling everyone who
would listen about the day he got his EGA. It is a shame when
someone who would love nothing better to serve cannot, while
those who can, will not. My youngest follows the family
tradition 7/7/07 and boards that plane for South Carolina.
OOHRAH, SEMPER FI.
Jim Wolter
1969-1974
I'm Not Here Idiot
Now why the h&ll are you sending me a freaking email? I'm not
here idiot. I'm off at USMC boot camp training to kill people
and protect your right to send stupid emails. So go do something
worthwhile and send some care packages to our troops fighting in
Afghanistan and Iraq, or even a freaking letter, or...guess
what... A D*MN EMAIL! Anyways, adios. If I like you I'll get
back to you when I get back, if not, well, I'm sure you know.
Brandon Kappel
Note: He's either going to be an outstanding Marine or his DI
will kill him. He has the attitude going in.
Sgt Grit
Did Ya' Know?
The story regards a small group of Marines, haggard and tired
from day's events, sitting at their jungle outpost as night
approaches and attempting to find solace after the loss of
friends in battle. Ceremony, designed to sooth, and which
normally surrounds loss of those close to us is not to be.
Mingling among family and friends at the wake, kind words from
the preacher, the funeral procession to the cemetery for more
kind words and capped off with roast turkey, drinks and even a
bit of laughter as the pleasant memories take over. To be able
to pay respect. In a proper way, to a friend.
None of this was to be. Simply there one moment, with talk of
the future and, of course, tales about the incredible babes back
in "The World". And gone the next moment, with the unceremonious
zipping of a body bag.
For reasons only an infantryman can fathom, the talk turns to
the atom. It seems, according to one Marine, that every thing as
we know it, the wind, the rain, the hub cap off a '55 Chevy,
even those of us, are made up of different combinations of only
eighty some odd atoms. Each with it's select number of electrons
orbiting at various levels above a proton/neutron nucleus.
"Did ya' know?", he adds, "That the ratio of the nearest
electron to it's nucleus is greater in distance as compared to
the earth from the sun.". His friends are impressed. "Not only
would you need a million atoms, piled on top of each other, to
equal the thickness of a page, but to be able to compress the
electrons into the nucleus would also mean that you could fit an
entire sky-scraper into the eraser head of a pencil.". Now his
friends are amazed.
A few moments of silence. "Kinda' makes you wonder about the
guys.", another Marine suggests. "I mean, if all those millions
of bucks were spent to split a single atom, are they really
dead? Seems to me that those electrons are still goin' through a
spin cycle."
Discussion continues, cigarettes are smoked in cupped hands and,
bingo, ARE is founded. Atomic Recovery Employment systems. Until
someone pointed out that ---- ------- would be ticked off if
recovered with the head of a moose.
A long moment of laughter, and they pondered some more.
To the scientist, there is the atom. To the theologian, there is
spirit. To that young group of Marines, having found their
solace, there is Comparable Atomic Recovery Employment systems.
CARE.
Seeming to sum things up, one of the Marine's who has remained
silent throughout, simply listening, finally speaks. "You guys
are gonna' think me wacko on this one, but when I was a kid my
family went on a cross-country trip and at one point I found
myself in one of those rare moments in a large family. I was
standing alone with my dad. We were at the very lip of the Grand
Canyon, gazing at the incredible beauty, when he says to me,
completely out of the blue, and we're not talking a religious
fanatic here, "Ya' know, sport, I think this is what Christ had
in mind when He said, probably in frustration, "The Kingdom of
Heaven is here, now."
Heads nod, cigarettes are snuffed, and talk comes to an end as a
Marine glances at his watch, stands with an M-16, and heads off to guard duty.
"Catch you guys later.", he concludes.
Semper Fi'.....
Mike Regan
GENERAL PACE Speaks Out
Honor still lives here in America! Is it any wonder that a
Marine would be the one to prove that, again?
From NATIONAL REVIEW.
Gen. Peter Pace Speaks [W. Thomas Smith Jr.]
Last night, during a Q&A following remarks by Gen. Peter Pace at
The Joint Forces Staff College in Norfolk, Virginia, the general
was asked the following question:
My question is about what many folks at the reception tonight
viewed as the very disappointing news about your replacement as
chairman. I wonder why you believe that is happening, and what
are your thoughts about the process by which we choose the
nation's top military uniformed officer?
General Pace responds:
I will tell you the truth as I know it, and that is around the
middle of May, within a day or two of the Secretary learning
from certain members of Congress that there may be a problem to
renominate me, he brought me in the office and sat me down and
said "Pete, this is what's happening. I want to renominate you.
I want you to know that this is what I'm beginning to hear, this
is what I'm going to go do, this is how I'm going to go do it."
He went out and did exactly what he said on television, and
exactly what he's been saying in his interviews, which is he
went out and pulsed various members of Congress and he heard
back from them the things that he said that he heard.
He and I sat down, and I said "I'm a Marine...If you want me to
go forward with the confirmation process, I'm all for it."
I also told him that what he needed to do, in my opinion, was
what was best for the institution, and whatever he and the
president decided was going to be best for the institution was
what Pete Pace was going to do. Oh and by the way, I can read
the Constitution, which says the president gets to nominate and
the Senate gets to confirm, or not, and neither one of those two
things is going to happen, therefore I'm not staying.
One thing that was discussed was whether or not I should just
voluntarily retire and take the issue off the table. I said I
could not do that for one very fundamental reason and that is
that PFC Pace in Baghdad should not think – ever – that his
chairman, whoever that person is, could have stayed in the
battle and voluntarily walked off the battlefield. That is
unacceptable as a leadership thing in my mind.
So I elected not to submit my request for retirement until after
it was publicly known that I was no longer going to be
renominated.
That is very important to me. The other part that is important
to me is personal. The first piece holds true for anybody in
this position – anybody.
The other piece for me personally was that some 40 years ago I
left some guys on the battlefield in Vietnam who lost their
lives following 2nd Lt. Pace. And I promised myself then that I
will serve this country until I was no longer needed — that it's
not my decision. I need to be told that I'm done.
I've been told I'm done.
I will run through the finish line on 1 October, and when I run
through the finish line I will have met the mission I set for
myself.
That asshole Harry Reid is not good enough to clean "any"
service member's boots and he sure as $#@$% is not competent
enough to offer even an opinion on General Pace.
"Harry Reid is a wimp, acts like a sissy; could not lead Marines
to The Head"
Author Unknown
General Shoup
For many of us, General Shoup was Commandant of the Marine Corps
when we enlisted. For those of us that had the pleasure to serve
under his command, his picture is in our platoon books. I for
one, never really looked at the picture until today when it hit
me. "Is that the Congressional Medal of Honor on his chest?" A
little research showed that General David M. Shoup, Commandant
of the Marine Corps from 1960-1963 is indeed a Medal of Honor
recipient and his citation reads as follows:
SHOUP, DAVID MONROE
Rank and organization: Colonel, U.S. Marine Corps, commanding
officer of all Marine Corps troops on Betio Island, Tarawa
Atoll, and Gilbert Islands, from 20 to 22 November 1943. Entered
service at: Indiana. Born: 30 December 1904, Tippecanoe, Ind.
Citation: For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk
of his life above and beyond the call of duty as commanding
officer of all Marine Corps troops in action against enemy
Japanese forces on Betio Island, Tarawa Atoll, Gilbert Islands,
from 20 to 22 November 1943. Although severely shocked by an
exploding enemy shell soon after landing at the pier and
suffering from a serious, painful leg wound which had become
infected, Col. Shoup fearlessly exposed himself to the terrific
and relentless artillery, machinegun, and rifle fire from
hostile shore emplacements. Rallying his hesitant troops by his
own inspiring heroism, he gallantly led them across the fringing
reefs to charge the heavily fortified island and reinforce our
hard-pressed, thinly held lines. Upon arrival on shore, he
assumed command of all landed troops and, working without rest
under constant, withering enemy fire during the next 2 days,
conducted smashing attacks against unbelievably strong and
fanatically defended Japanese positions despite innumerable
obstacles and heavy casualties. By his brilliant leadership
daring tactics, and selfless devotion to duty, Col. Shoup was
largely responsible for the final decisive defeat of the enemy,
and his indomitable fighting spirit reflects great credit upon
the U.S. Naval Service.
David M. Shoup 1960-1963
The Few. The Proud.
Jerry D.
Forever Grateful
Great Day Sgt. Grit!
I just read the letter from [Michael S. GRAY:
2157547/0107979 - RVN 1969 11th Engrs.] in new letter #150 and
could not have agreed more with another persons comments. We,
who have served, have been taught what is right, heck we fought
for it! And for someone to brag that they are associated with
the Corps and disgrace what we stand for is WRONG! There is NO
excuse, I know too many veterans that have been given a bad way,
but they deal with it. They don't go out and do what they know
is wrong. It is these that my heart and help go out to, not the
low life scum that want the world to feel sorry for them,
because they did their '3 years'. I am a proud American Marine,
and for those who hold the title, I am forever grateful to and
faithful to!
Semper Fi, Ken Reed
Famous Marines
I'm going to add this as a feature of the Sgt Grit Newsletter.
Now I know that all of you think your "Famous" and that your
stories get bigger and better as the years pass.
Roberto Clemente
Graduated boot camp 1959 at Parris Island. Reservist. Lifetime
batting average .317 and 3000 hits. Born in Puerto Rico and
played for the Pittsburgh Pirates.
Robert Bork
Jurist and legal scholar. Enlisted 1945, called back during
Korean War. Pres. Reagan nominated him for the Supreme Court but
Senate turned down his nomination.
Improvise, Adapt, Overcome
While in MCCES at MCB 29 Palms, 1974, we had a real big Marine
(former NCAA heavy weight wrestler, placed 3rd in the nation in
1973) that didn't drink much. One Friday night, PFC Roll, went
on a 'bender' and came back to his barracks early in the AM. I
was on Assistant Barracks Fire Watch duty that night and had
made my 0400 rounds. There was nothing wrong and all was going
well.
When I did 'Lights On' at 0530 and walked into Roll's barn, it
looked as if a wrecking crew had been hard at work. Apparently
Roll had gotten drunker than h&ll, couldn't lay down (his world
was spinning) or go to sleep. He wanted someone to knock him
out, but because of his size, no one volunteered to try. He
decided to wreck the barracks instead.
When I walked into his barracks' side 'head', I found two sinks
ripped off the wall, the drinking fountain pulled up and tossed
across the head, with water spraying everywhere and a totally
destroyed washing machine and dryer. When I entered the barn,
Roll was laid out on the deck and surrounded by turquoise ore (
a few of his barracks mates had been to the old turquoise mine
and had brought back 3 or 4 bags of bluish colored rocks-
turquoise ore). Three racks had been torn apart and table and
chairs had been thrown about.
I ran back to inform the Duty NCO and saw the young 2nd
Lieutenant Officer Of The Day approaching. I told the DNCO
about what had happened. He decided to stall the OOD while I
rounded up 'volunteers' to put Roll's barn back together, a
daunting task to say the least.
With the help of more than a dozen Marines from other barns, we
worked as fast as we could as the DNCO tried to hold up the OOD.
A massive clean-up was performed in record time. Some of us
actually went over into another unit's area and
'reappropriated' rack parts, another drier and a few other
replacement items. However, we couldn't do much with the broken
sinks and water fountain.
The DNCO had delayed the OOD as long as he could and they
entered the barracks. You know how well Marines can innovate.
When this young officer entered the head, two Marines were at
the 'damaged' sinks, one shaving, the other brushing his teeth.
Both were using one hand to do their business while their other
hand was holding up their sink! Another Marine was holding the
water fountain up in place, talking with the two others and
acting like he was taking a drink.
The OOD entered the barn. The damaged racks appeared to be ok,
the tables and chairs were back in place and all of the
turquoise ore had been cleaned up. PFC Roll was resting
peacefully in his rack. The 'Butter Bar' said our area was in
outstanding shape and he commended the DNCO and me for the good
job we were doing. If only he had seen what I had a short time
earlier!
I've still got a piece of that turquoise ore around here some
place.
Semper Fi,
Tony Glass
Sgt USMC 1974-78
Short Rounds
I would like to tell my husbands friends in the circle of
Marines that he has passed away. His name was Gene Philip Davis
Jr. and he served in Vietnam in 1962 right out of High School.
He went to see the Lord on June 6th, 2007.
Semper Fi Debra Davis
Old Corps
Ike Jacket, Brown shoes, Starch Khakis, Collar emblems on the
tropical uniform shirt. Barracks cover tropical, brown visor.
MSgt Bill Dugan 1956-1977
Semper Fi
When I joined the Marines in 1960, the status of an Old Corps
Marine was indicated by the herringbone fatigues that he wore.
We all were stuck with USMC green fatigues.
L/cpl Ornett 60'-64'
Love to read letters from former Marines. Served from 57 to 60
and "The change is forever" is true. By the way, I had a DI that
was in "The DI" a Sgt Brown and he played a DI in the picture.
Seems like yesterday. Keep up the good work and appreciate your
Gritnews keeping me informed of Marine stories.
Semper Fi! Cpl Bill McCarthy
I am an Old Corps Marine and I just wished to say that I
appreciate what the New Corps is doing. Hope they have better
memories of return from overseas that some did. I only wish to
say thanks to Marines everywhere, old and new. SEMPER FI!
To answer James D. Cool India 3/4 (1967). I graduated P.I. in
1959 and served our Corps until 1964. The Dress Green buttons
on my winter dress uniform were all "BROWN". I never saw anyone
with black buttons. Perhaps they were standard issue in the mid
1960's. I hope this helped.
W.H. Bruneau (1959-1964) 1/25 (the Fighting Irish Btl.)
Sgt. Grit,
If it is the same Doc Byars I knew back in country in 69-71,
then there was no finer example of both Corpsman and Marine, for
he had his sh*t together, his bag packed at the ready and truly
cared for us as though one of our own, which he truly was, and
still is. Let no Marine alive ever say anything bad about the
field Corpsmen, especially the ones I served with, for they will
forever be in my thoughts, prayers and gratitude.
L/cpl D A Reed, USMC 69-71
Welcome Home Marine, Job Well Done!
Semper Fi
Sgt Grit
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