thedrifter
11-17-06, 06:24 AM
At dusty outpost in Iraq, cake Is cut for Marines young and not so young
November 16, 2006
New York Times
OUTPOST VIKING, Iraq, Nov. 10 -- Capt. James W. Mingus faced another platoon of his marines. They stood in their fire-retardant uniforms, wearied and hungry, weapons across their chests and backs.
A birthday cake was on the table in front of them. One piece had been cut off with a bayonet.
The captain, 37 and the oldest marine in the rifle company he commands, had just given that piece to the platoon's youngest marine, Lance Cpl. T.J. McDowell, who is 20.
"Two hundred and thirty-one years," the captain said.
"Tradition. This is what makes us different. This is what sets us apart."
The Marine Corps celebrated its 231st birthday Nov. 10, an event that passes with little notice outside the corps's insular ranks, but is an essential ritual within, especially now, as the policies guiding the war seem certain to change and the reasons that brought the marines here are less clear.
No matter the changes in Washington, here in this forward base in Anbar Province, Company F, Second Battalion, Eighth Marines marked the day with the same insistence on ceremony that surrounds marines from their first seconds before an enraged drill instructor to the folded flag at the grave.
As each platoon came in from their duties on patrol or manning posts at Outpost's Viking's walls, a ceremony repeated itself: a reading of a traditional birthday message from 1921, a reading of a message from the current commandant and then the cake, passed symbolically from one generation to the next.
"When were you born, Graham?" a marine called out, just before one platoon's cake-cutting ceremonies began.
Cpl. Jeremy L. Graham, who had hit four bombs in three months while riding in vehicles, and who was blasted once more on a foot patrol, answered without a pause: "1775," he said. Using the year that the Marine Corps first took up arms in a Pennsylvania tavern.
Every year, and everywhere, it is the same, even now.
The graying marines remind marines who are new to shaving, you are part of an outfit, storied and bloodies, that is older than the nation it serves. You are one of us. Pass it on.
This is Cpl. Graham's second tour of duty in Iraq.
Mrs. Patchen, his grandmother, said she worries about him constantly, but said, "He is still alive, thanks to God."
Ellie
November 16, 2006
New York Times
OUTPOST VIKING, Iraq, Nov. 10 -- Capt. James W. Mingus faced another platoon of his marines. They stood in their fire-retardant uniforms, wearied and hungry, weapons across their chests and backs.
A birthday cake was on the table in front of them. One piece had been cut off with a bayonet.
The captain, 37 and the oldest marine in the rifle company he commands, had just given that piece to the platoon's youngest marine, Lance Cpl. T.J. McDowell, who is 20.
"Two hundred and thirty-one years," the captain said.
"Tradition. This is what makes us different. This is what sets us apart."
The Marine Corps celebrated its 231st birthday Nov. 10, an event that passes with little notice outside the corps's insular ranks, but is an essential ritual within, especially now, as the policies guiding the war seem certain to change and the reasons that brought the marines here are less clear.
No matter the changes in Washington, here in this forward base in Anbar Province, Company F, Second Battalion, Eighth Marines marked the day with the same insistence on ceremony that surrounds marines from their first seconds before an enraged drill instructor to the folded flag at the grave.
As each platoon came in from their duties on patrol or manning posts at Outpost's Viking's walls, a ceremony repeated itself: a reading of a traditional birthday message from 1921, a reading of a message from the current commandant and then the cake, passed symbolically from one generation to the next.
"When were you born, Graham?" a marine called out, just before one platoon's cake-cutting ceremonies began.
Cpl. Jeremy L. Graham, who had hit four bombs in three months while riding in vehicles, and who was blasted once more on a foot patrol, answered without a pause: "1775," he said. Using the year that the Marine Corps first took up arms in a Pennsylvania tavern.
Every year, and everywhere, it is the same, even now.
The graying marines remind marines who are new to shaving, you are part of an outfit, storied and bloodies, that is older than the nation it serves. You are one of us. Pass it on.
This is Cpl. Graham's second tour of duty in Iraq.
Mrs. Patchen, his grandmother, said she worries about him constantly, but said, "He is still alive, thanks to God."
Ellie