thedrifter
05-07-03, 07:44 AM
Life With Marines
Simply Semper Fi By Roger Roy Sentinel Staff Writer
>
> April 27, 2003
>
> The gas mask had hung at my hip for so long it felt almost
permanently
> attached, and I'd gotten to where I'd reflexively reach down to make
sure
it
> was there, like checking for keys before locking the car door.
>
> But now I handed the mask and the rest of my issued gear to the Army
> captain, and he checked off his list: atropine injectors, pants and
jacket
> to my chemical-weapons suit, rubber overboots and gloves. He marked
off
the
> list and slid it over the counter, and I signed it.
>
> "You are now officially disembedded," he told me, and I'd been around
> Marines so much I was almost startled he hadn't said, "Good to go,"
the
> Corps' catchall phrase that means you're ready for anything, even if
it
> involves bayonets and a beach that somebody else thinks belongs to
them.
>
> I almost mentioned that to the captain, but I figured, he's Army, he
> wouldn't get it. A few weeks earlier, I wouldn't have gotten it
myself.
>
> For more than a month, I'd been, in military parlance, "embedded"
with the
> 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, traveling and living with the Marines
as
> they pushed north from Kuwait to Baghdad.
>
> It was an experience that had swung dizzily from rewarding to
exasperating
> to frightening, and now that it was suddenly over I was still sorting
> through its ups and downs. That night after turning in our
Marine-issued
> gear at the military press headquarters in Kuwait City, I had dinner
with
a
> reporter I'd been with since before the war started, Wayne Woolley of
the
> Star-Ledger in Newark, N.J., who'd been embedded with the same unit.
At
the
> five-star Hilton looking out over the Gulf, we ate smoked salmon and
fresh
> fruit and smoked Iraqi cigarettes. We wished you could buy alcohol in
> Kuwait, and managed not to feel guilty even though we knew the
Marines
we'd
> left in Iraq the day before were still eating MREs.
>
> Over dinner, we rehashed our experience and came to a conclusion that
would
> have stunned us if someone had suggested it a month earlier: If we
were 18
> or 19 again, neither of us was sure we'd be able to resist the urge
to
join
> the Marines.
>
> The idea was troubling on several levels. First, practically
speaking, we
> should have known better by then. Being with the Marines meant we'd
been
> through the whole war without a hot shower, learned to consider
ourselves
> lucky when we had a new MRE box for a toilet and occasionally worried
we
> were about to be shot. We'd seen how the Marines had to make do with
old
or
> insufficient gear, some of it dating to the Vietnam era. It's hard to
argue
> that willingly subjecting yourself to such a thing isn't a sign of
> simple-mindedness.
>
> Beyond that, it was hardly a ringing endorsement of our ability to
keep
our
> distance from those we were writing about. I'd covered police, courts
and
> politics without ever once wanting to be a cop, a lawyer or a
politician.
>
> Fortunately, I'm old enough that our discussion that night was purely
> academic.
>
> But I think our reaction explains much about the Pentagon's decision
to
> embed several hundred reporters for the war in Iraq, the first time
the
> press has enjoyed such close war-time access to the U.S. military
since
> Vietnam.
>
> Someone at the Pentagon had figured out what we now recognized: No
matter
> what you think of the military as an institution, it's hard not to
admire
> the actual rank-and-file troops.
>
> Who would write glowingly about the Marine Corps bureaucracy for
trying to
> push a convoy of 150 supply trucks through hundreds of miles of enemy
> territory with too little fuel, too few radios and not enough heavy
weapons?
>
> But it's a different story when told from the seat next to a
19-year-old
> lance corporal at a wheel of a truckload of high explosives who
hasn't
slept
> in two days and is just trying to get the mission done.
>
> Before the war, I'd never spent much time with the Marines, and I
wasn't
> sure what to expect when I was assigned to them. I think I understand
> Marines better now, but I'm not sure I can explain them.
>
> They tend to do things the hardest way possible.
>
> They call each other "devil dog" and say "Hoo-rah."
>
> They are loud and rough. They have lots of tattoos. They'll ignore
you or
> torment you if they think you're a fake. They'll do anything for you
if
they
> like you.
>
> They'll believe the wildest rumors. One told me, early in the war,
that
he'd
> heard the Army, rather than the Marines, would occupy Baghdad because
the
> Marines "break too much stuff."
>
> Marines tend to think and travel in a straight line.
>
> They have a talent for complaining and swearing that I've seldom seen
> surpassed.
>
> I heard entire conversations between Marines that consisted of
nothing but
> acronyms laced with profanity, something like:
>
> "Where's your #&% NCO?"
>
> "At the ^*&$ COC for *+$ CSSB."
>
> "We need some #@* LVSs and a couple of *#% MTVRs."
>
> "$*&#."
>
> "Hoo-rah."
Marines get things done. They follow orders. They would sometimes do
crazy
> things if they thought they'd been told to.
>
> Once, during a convoy stop, a young Marine begged us out of an MRE
box
we'd
> been saving for a toilet. When Woolley gave him the box, he made a
joke
> about bringing it back, but the Marine thought he was serious.
>
> Five minutes later, the Marine was back, offering the no-longer-empty
box
> back to a horrified Woolley.
>
> It had Gunnery Sgt. Kevin Mlay, who was standing there when the
Marine
> brought the box back, shaking his head.
>
> Marines may not be the smartest, Mlay said, but you have to give them
credit
> for following orders.
>
> That doesn't mean they're afraid to point out that their orders may
be, to
> politely paraphrase an often-used Marine term, messed up.
>
> "That's (messed) up, sir," is a phrase I heard countless times.
>
> I'm sure it was the first thing the Marines said when they saw the
reefs
at
> Tarawa or the Japanese positions on Mount Suribachi.
>
> There were endless variations of the phrase -- "Sir, that's totally
messed)
> up," and "Sergeant, you won't believe how (messed) up it is."
>
> But after complaining, the Marines would do what they'd been told,
even if
> it didn't make any sense.
>
> Most of the Marines were very young, most lance corporals only 19 or
20.
> That may be why I ran across so many of them who managed to have both
a
> sentimental streak and a mean streak.
>
> I saw Marines who didn't have any extra food or water give what they
had
to
> Iraqi children begging on the roadside. But the same Marines laughed
like
> crazy when they heard about a Marine who filled an empty MRE bag with
sand,
> sealed it up and threw it to begging children.
>
One Marine officer I knew liked to call his Marines "the most
demented
young
> people our society can produce." He wasn't really kidding, but he
still
> admired them, and I did, too.
>
> The Marines Woolley and I had been embedded with were in the
Transportation
> Support Group, which included the Orlando-based reservists of the 6th
Motor
> Transport Battalion. They were running convoys of ammunition, food,
water
> and fuel, and fighting wasn't supposed to be their main job.
>
> They were ordered to more or less ignore civilians unless they were
hostile.
> If they took fire, they weren't to stop: Getting the supplies to the
front
> was more important than getting into a fight, especially since the
fuel
and
> ammunition trucks in a convoy would have been vulnerable targets.
>
> Their orders encouraged a sort of
don't-mess-with-me-I-won't-mess-with-you
> policy. But if someone messed with them, they were inviting the
worst.
>
> Marines return fire with a relish.
>
> At a base south of Baghdad, I heard a young Marine reporting to an
officer
> about how his convoy had taken sniper fire from a mud brick hut near
the
> highway.
comtinued........
Simply Semper Fi By Roger Roy Sentinel Staff Writer
>
> April 27, 2003
>
> The gas mask had hung at my hip for so long it felt almost
permanently
> attached, and I'd gotten to where I'd reflexively reach down to make
sure
it
> was there, like checking for keys before locking the car door.
>
> But now I handed the mask and the rest of my issued gear to the Army
> captain, and he checked off his list: atropine injectors, pants and
jacket
> to my chemical-weapons suit, rubber overboots and gloves. He marked
off
the
> list and slid it over the counter, and I signed it.
>
> "You are now officially disembedded," he told me, and I'd been around
> Marines so much I was almost startled he hadn't said, "Good to go,"
the
> Corps' catchall phrase that means you're ready for anything, even if
it
> involves bayonets and a beach that somebody else thinks belongs to
them.
>
> I almost mentioned that to the captain, but I figured, he's Army, he
> wouldn't get it. A few weeks earlier, I wouldn't have gotten it
myself.
>
> For more than a month, I'd been, in military parlance, "embedded"
with the
> 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, traveling and living with the Marines
as
> they pushed north from Kuwait to Baghdad.
>
> It was an experience that had swung dizzily from rewarding to
exasperating
> to frightening, and now that it was suddenly over I was still sorting
> through its ups and downs. That night after turning in our
Marine-issued
> gear at the military press headquarters in Kuwait City, I had dinner
with
a
> reporter I'd been with since before the war started, Wayne Woolley of
the
> Star-Ledger in Newark, N.J., who'd been embedded with the same unit.
At
the
> five-star Hilton looking out over the Gulf, we ate smoked salmon and
fresh
> fruit and smoked Iraqi cigarettes. We wished you could buy alcohol in
> Kuwait, and managed not to feel guilty even though we knew the
Marines
we'd
> left in Iraq the day before were still eating MREs.
>
> Over dinner, we rehashed our experience and came to a conclusion that
would
> have stunned us if someone had suggested it a month earlier: If we
were 18
> or 19 again, neither of us was sure we'd be able to resist the urge
to
join
> the Marines.
>
> The idea was troubling on several levels. First, practically
speaking, we
> should have known better by then. Being with the Marines meant we'd
been
> through the whole war without a hot shower, learned to consider
ourselves
> lucky when we had a new MRE box for a toilet and occasionally worried
we
> were about to be shot. We'd seen how the Marines had to make do with
old
or
> insufficient gear, some of it dating to the Vietnam era. It's hard to
argue
> that willingly subjecting yourself to such a thing isn't a sign of
> simple-mindedness.
>
> Beyond that, it was hardly a ringing endorsement of our ability to
keep
our
> distance from those we were writing about. I'd covered police, courts
and
> politics without ever once wanting to be a cop, a lawyer or a
politician.
>
> Fortunately, I'm old enough that our discussion that night was purely
> academic.
>
> But I think our reaction explains much about the Pentagon's decision
to
> embed several hundred reporters for the war in Iraq, the first time
the
> press has enjoyed such close war-time access to the U.S. military
since
> Vietnam.
>
> Someone at the Pentagon had figured out what we now recognized: No
matter
> what you think of the military as an institution, it's hard not to
admire
> the actual rank-and-file troops.
>
> Who would write glowingly about the Marine Corps bureaucracy for
trying to
> push a convoy of 150 supply trucks through hundreds of miles of enemy
> territory with too little fuel, too few radios and not enough heavy
weapons?
>
> But it's a different story when told from the seat next to a
19-year-old
> lance corporal at a wheel of a truckload of high explosives who
hasn't
slept
> in two days and is just trying to get the mission done.
>
> Before the war, I'd never spent much time with the Marines, and I
wasn't
> sure what to expect when I was assigned to them. I think I understand
> Marines better now, but I'm not sure I can explain them.
>
> They tend to do things the hardest way possible.
>
> They call each other "devil dog" and say "Hoo-rah."
>
> They are loud and rough. They have lots of tattoos. They'll ignore
you or
> torment you if they think you're a fake. They'll do anything for you
if
they
> like you.
>
> They'll believe the wildest rumors. One told me, early in the war,
that
he'd
> heard the Army, rather than the Marines, would occupy Baghdad because
the
> Marines "break too much stuff."
>
> Marines tend to think and travel in a straight line.
>
> They have a talent for complaining and swearing that I've seldom seen
> surpassed.
>
> I heard entire conversations between Marines that consisted of
nothing but
> acronyms laced with profanity, something like:
>
> "Where's your #&% NCO?"
>
> "At the ^*&$ COC for *+$ CSSB."
>
> "We need some #@* LVSs and a couple of *#% MTVRs."
>
> "$*&#."
>
> "Hoo-rah."
Marines get things done. They follow orders. They would sometimes do
crazy
> things if they thought they'd been told to.
>
> Once, during a convoy stop, a young Marine begged us out of an MRE
box
we'd
> been saving for a toilet. When Woolley gave him the box, he made a
joke
> about bringing it back, but the Marine thought he was serious.
>
> Five minutes later, the Marine was back, offering the no-longer-empty
box
> back to a horrified Woolley.
>
> It had Gunnery Sgt. Kevin Mlay, who was standing there when the
Marine
> brought the box back, shaking his head.
>
> Marines may not be the smartest, Mlay said, but you have to give them
credit
> for following orders.
>
> That doesn't mean they're afraid to point out that their orders may
be, to
> politely paraphrase an often-used Marine term, messed up.
>
> "That's (messed) up, sir," is a phrase I heard countless times.
>
> I'm sure it was the first thing the Marines said when they saw the
reefs
at
> Tarawa or the Japanese positions on Mount Suribachi.
>
> There were endless variations of the phrase -- "Sir, that's totally
messed)
> up," and "Sergeant, you won't believe how (messed) up it is."
>
> But after complaining, the Marines would do what they'd been told,
even if
> it didn't make any sense.
>
> Most of the Marines were very young, most lance corporals only 19 or
20.
> That may be why I ran across so many of them who managed to have both
a
> sentimental streak and a mean streak.
>
> I saw Marines who didn't have any extra food or water give what they
had
to
> Iraqi children begging on the roadside. But the same Marines laughed
like
> crazy when they heard about a Marine who filled an empty MRE bag with
sand,
> sealed it up and threw it to begging children.
>
One Marine officer I knew liked to call his Marines "the most
demented
young
> people our society can produce." He wasn't really kidding, but he
still
> admired them, and I did, too.
>
> The Marines Woolley and I had been embedded with were in the
Transportation
> Support Group, which included the Orlando-based reservists of the 6th
Motor
> Transport Battalion. They were running convoys of ammunition, food,
water
> and fuel, and fighting wasn't supposed to be their main job.
>
> They were ordered to more or less ignore civilians unless they were
hostile.
> If they took fire, they weren't to stop: Getting the supplies to the
front
> was more important than getting into a fight, especially since the
fuel
and
> ammunition trucks in a convoy would have been vulnerable targets.
>
> Their orders encouraged a sort of
don't-mess-with-me-I-won't-mess-with-you
> policy. But if someone messed with them, they were inviting the
worst.
>
> Marines return fire with a relish.
>
> At a base south of Baghdad, I heard a young Marine reporting to an
officer
> about how his convoy had taken sniper fire from a mud brick hut near
the
> highway.
comtinued........