Once a Marine - Always a Marine

[thedrifter]

Once a Marine - Always a Marine



Being a Marine is a state of mind. It is an experience some have likened more to a calling than a profession. Being a Marine is not a job – not a paycheck; it is not an occupational specialty. It is not male or female, majority or minority; nor is it a rank insignia. Stars, bars, or chevrons are only indicators of the responsibility or authority we hold at a given time. Rather, being a Marine comes from the eagle, globe, and anchor that is tattooed on the soul of every one of us who wears the Marine Corps uniform. It is a searing mark in our innermost being which comes after the rite of passage through boot camp or Officer Candidates School when a young man or woman is allowed for the first time to say, “I’m a United States Marine.” And unlike physical or psychological scars, which, over time, tend to heal and fade in intensity, the eagle, globe, and anchor only grow more defined – more intense – the longer you are a Marine. "Once a Marine, always a Marine."

[Sgtj]

Well said SSgt!

[Super Dave]

I've been out of the Corps a year longer than I was in (in four, out eighteen), and I still don't carry anything in my right hand, unless it's absolutely necessary. After all, you never know when you'll have to salute someone.
"The Marines Hymn" still gives me cold chills, and a picture of Mount Suribachi brings a tear to my eye.
I always stand at attention for the national anthem, with hand over my heart. I don't put my hands in my pockets when walking, and walking in step is a must.
A rack is still a rack (not for hanging hats), a head is still a head (not the one on your shoulders), and the deck is still the deck (we're not talking sailboats, either).
At the office, co-workers think I'm crazy, using terms like guard mail (instead of interoffice correspondence), direct order (instead of directive), and locked on (instead of understood). The task at hand is always a "mission," and no mission is ever too tough.
Even the days aren't long enough. Not that I complain about a 9-to-5 job, or working regular hours; I don't. But it seems that others - civilians - are always complaining about how hard and/or horrible their work is. Get real. Join the Marine Corps....
A headache, stomach ache, or cold might keep the average employee home. Calling in sick, except in case of rare disease or disaster, is out of the question for a Marine. Being late is equally unsat. (What's that? Ask a Marine.)
The word "Sir" involuntarily rolls off my lip when addressing senior management. Some think it's great; others don't care for it at all. (Remember the first sergeant's cry? "Don't call me 'Sir', I work for a living!") At any rate, I find myself explaining that it's "ingrained Marine Corps training," which is always a door opener for further conversation.
Such a statement can also be beneficial during other interactions, such as those with police officers. Fortunately, my experience in that area is limited, but any mention of "Marine" is usually a good icebreaker and lead in to conversation about the Corps. It seems that there's a mutual respect between the Police and the Marines; many are Marines (former and reserve). Not everyone can be a Marine, and if you are, say so. A Marine bumper sticker in the window and dog tags hanging in the rearview mirror can also go a long way.
Speaking of bumper stickers, have you ever noticed how many there are out there? Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, proudly displayed on cars and trucks from New York to California. Marines are everywhere.
And when they're not in their bumper-stickered vehicles, you can otherwise spot them in their bright, red and gold USMC jackets, caps (not hats), T-shirts, and other assorted accessories. But not all Marines are that easily recognizable. Some garb is understated in black, silver, green, or camouflage. Designs range from a simple Marine Corps emblem, to the Tasmanian Devil, or a leatherneck tattoo, to an elaborate display of Marine weaponry. Sayings may include "Once a Marine, always a Marine", "Semper Fi" (do or die), or any variation thereof. The words may be different, but the theme is always "Marine".
Marines will proudly inform you, and anyone else who happens to be listening, that they were in the Corps. Their comment may have no connection with the present conversation or situation, at least not to the common ear, but anything can, and will, rouse memories in a Marine.
You could be in a crowded doorway, taking refuge from a storm, and a 40-something gentleman tells you he doesn't need an umbrella because he was a Marine, and compared to the monsoons in Southeast Asia or Okinawa, this downpour is just a sprinkle.
Or the moving man mentions in passing that he developed strength and endurance in the Corps. And there's the real estate agent, who points out, with pride, his previous service, when you pass by the local Marine monument.
From city to city, women in grocery lines and beauty parlors tell stories about their children, grandchildren, nephews and nieces who are, or were, Marines. From barroom to bowling alleys, from boat to backyard barbecue, fathers and grandfathers vividly recall life in the Corps to anyone who will listen.
Marines will seize any opportunity to volunteer information about their adventures in the Corps. They may casually note their branch of service, or unload an entire bag of sea stories. Fortunately, most folks don't mind unless, that is, they find themselves in the company of two or more Marines. In that case, they can forget getting in a word edgewise.
And remarkably, Marines always seem to find each other. In the midst of any crowd, two leathernecks will somehow get together, and when they do, it's an instant reunion. Forget formal introductions; these men are brothers. Call it "Marine bonding."
I recently attended a business conference (not Marine related) and found myself at a roundtable discussion. Actually, it was a luncheon, but the conversation was supposed to be business. Somehow, someone mentioned "Marine," and the gears immediately, and permanently changed. Another gentleman, who also happened to be a Marine, wanted to know what battalion, when, where served, with whom, how long. Of course, he too, was asked to share his case history.
None of the other people at the table, who included a Navy corpsman, Army sergeant major, and Air Force pilot, could compete. In fact they tried to offer tidbits about their service, but a mere "Oh really?" or "That's nice" was the only reaction they could get from the Marines. Interestingly, the non-Marines didn't seem to be perturbed. They were too busy listening to the sea stories.
Occurrences like these are not rare. In fact, they're probably the norm. Esprit de corps transcends the barriers of time and space, religion, and race. A Marine is a Marine. Once a Marine, Always a Marine. It's training you never outgrow, and a brotherhood you never forget.

[Shooter]

Originally posted by Super Dave
[ A Marine bumper sticker in the window and dog tags hanging in the rearview mirror can also go a long way.
]

Did You see my truck around Dallas? Semper Fi !!

[vision836]

GREAT POST SUPER DAVE !!! OH RAh

[sgtfowler]

I understand completely Super Dave, Bumper stickers on my vehicles, Marine flag flying at the house, Marine Stuff hanging all over my cubicle (foxhole)

[TracGunny]

I have an almost uncontrollable urge to tell a group of people walking together to "Get in step... and how about some cover and alignment"
I cannot enter a building without taking my cover off; even in Country Western clubs were wearing your cowboy hat is the ‘norm’.
I want to tell people standing around with there hands in their pockets, "You in the Army now? Nice gloves..."
I cannot smoke a cigarette while on the move - I must be stationary and out of the way - all butts must be field-stripped.
I cannot walk past trash without 'policing the area'.
No matter where I am, I stop and stand at attention for the National Anthem AND Marines' Hymn.
I walk to the left of anyone in a position of authority.

On and on... The Drifter and Super Dave got it right, it becomes a part of your very being..., and this is a good thing!

[Super Dave]

And the best part of it all is that I have passed this along to my daughter who departs for the sandbox in about a month.

[Ed Fleming]

My family have grown used to me and my "ways" that I learned at PI a whole lot of years ago. I have never tried to forget these things and will keep them for the rest of my life. Semper Fidelis

[tommyboy]

I almost never mention anything about my service in the Marines, unless its another Marine. I dont know why, maybe I dont like to blow my own horn. Kinda funny story that happened not long ago, I was at my girlfriends family get together and I met her grandfather for the first time. He said nice to meet you, and then he said I bet you were in the Marines. I said to him, oh somebody must have told you. He said nobody ever mentioned my service time. He told me he could tell by the way I walked, the way I looked him in the eye, and the way I shook his hand. I was shocked. He served in the army in WW2 and always had the utmost respect for Marines. Made me feel good.

[Super Dave]

It's been said...Don't ask if someome is a Marine, if they are they will tell you..if not you don't want to embarass them.

[Shooter]

Just like last month I was at a restaurant and saw a few young marines at a table (in civvies). I walked over, introduced myself and we talked a little while, as I was leaving my girlfriend said"you didn't even know those people" and I replied yes I did they are my brothers. You figure she would have got it after we attended the ball, blondes, go figure...LMAO. Semper Fi !!!

[Robert Carnot]

A MARINE NAMED ARCHIE


An interesting story sent to me by a brother (MGYSGT Ret.). Thought I'd pass it on.


Editor's Note: This is a personal recollection by Richard W. Williams, an enlisted Marine Corps infantryman who served in Vietnam in 1969, posted in the 1st Marine Division site at Grunts.net, a military history website. It has been slightly edited for grammar.



By Richard W. Williams

I was a grunt in India Company 3/5 in 1969. But this is not war story. This is a story about the Espirit de Corps of the 1st Marine Division.

I lived in Boca Raton, Florida. Prior to joining the Marines in 1968, I learned that there was a Marine who lived close by my home. I knocked on his door and his wife answered. I merely said I was considering joining the Marines and I understood her husband was a former Marine. I was hoping he'd let me ask him a few questions about what to expect. As any good Marine's wife she let me in and introduced me to her husband, "Archie."

Archie was quite old. However, he sat in his winged-back chair with a quiet repose. In spite of his failing eyesight, he fixed me with a steady gaze, politely smiled and simply said, "Welcome aboard." We talked the afternoon away.

Archie patiently answered my questions about the Marine Corps, Parris Island and careers in the Corps. All he related to me about his exploits in the Marines was that he loved the Corps and every minute he had served in it. As the late afternoon sun dipped on the horizon, I bid him farewell and promised I would return to see him after I finished Boot Camp.

I kept my promise and visited him nearly every day I was back from Parris Island. He and his wife were gracious hosts. As I sat and learned from Archie, his wife would serve us brandy in the afternoon to go with the cigar Archie enjoyed only once a day. I felt extremely bonded with Archie for sharing his ritual with me.

As my leave drew to a close and I prepared to go to Vietnam, Archie's and my conversations drew deadly serious. He gave me tip after tip on how to fight and even how to win campaigns. As an enlisted snuffie, I didn't think the High Command would be interested in my opinions on running a campaign but I listened in utter fascination to Archie's knowledge.

He told me what to expect in war and what not to fear. After his brandy one evening he said, "Don't worry if you are ready for the task of war. Because no sane man is ever ready. There is only one thing that makes a good warrior and that is a man who cares for his fellow man. That is why the Marines do so well at making war. We respect each other. We'd rather die than to let down our comrades. You see, there are many reasons a young man marches off to war - patriotism, duty, honor, adventure; but only one reason he actually fights once he is in a war. He fights for the men next to him. Marines don't endure the hell of combat for any lofty principles.

Marines fight because each Marine acknowledges the loftiest principle of all: he acknowledges and accepts the responsibility of being his brother's keeper. That's why you will fight. You are a Marine and you will protect your unit at all cost."

Archie asked me to write and keep him abreast to what I experienced in Vietnam. He gave me his address. I thanked him and promised I would write as soon as I landed and found out what my FPO address would be. Without looking at it, I folded the paper and put his address in my wallet and marched off to war.

Naturally, I lost his address. However, I sent a letter to him through my father letting him know I landed and providing him with my FPO. I had been in Vietnam less than a month when I got a response from Archie. He simply asked me to tell him how we were conducting the war, what were my impressions.

The name on the return address was General Archer A. Vandegrift, USMC
(Ret.).

My friend, Archie, was the former CO of the 1st Marine Division
("Guadalcanal General"). He had won the Medal of Honor [chris - pls link to 031224 MoH Vandegrift] at Guadalcanal and later became

Commandant of the Marine Corps. At PI, we had learned all about General Vandegrift. But being as dumb as a box of rocks, I never really remembered "Archie's" last name until his letter arrived. I just remembered it was "Van" something.

I sat down in the sweaty jungle rot and stench and began what would be a long series of letters from one snuffie to the ex-Commandant and the most famous CO of my Marine Division. I started it out simply, Dear General Vandegrift,

Vietnam is like a large island where the enemy has kept a seaway open. The enemy also has a secret weapon. The seaway is the Ho Chi Minh trail. The secret weapon is their ability to use resupply themselves using technologies that existed since the stone age. We ignore the seaway, leaving it open and try to use high technology to cause collateral damage to their stone-age production capacity.

It's like dropping firecrackers on ants. So the enemy will continually be resupplied. And we will continually be resupplied. That means this fight will go on until one side or the other tires of it. On the ground, your Marines are just that, Marines. We are doing just what you predicted, fighting for the guy next to us. Other then that, it don't mean nothing but, what does mean something is that for all those months you never let on who you were. It was just two Marines, no rank. That's why I serve, because of men like you who have made the Marine Corps something worthy to fight for.

Semper Fidelis

The general wrote back and agreed that an enemy must be denied resupply. A war of attrition is less costly to a Third World country then it is to a high-tech country. He said that the bombing and blockading of Haiphong Harbor and an end run up the Ho Chi Mihn trail coupled with a staggered attack due north would end this war in a few months. But, without a Pearl Harbor, the American people don't have a heart for war. That was America's greatest strength, he said. We only like to fight when we are mad. And, when we are mad we fight like no other civilization in the history of the world.

This story isn't about famous people I have known. I was then and am now nobody, just a simple grunt. But the most famous CO of the 1st Marine Division would sit down and talk to a lowly private just shows what the Marine Corps is made of.

It shows that the Corps' motto, Semper Fidelis, is more than mere words. It is a way of life.

[Super Dave]

Wow Robert....
GREAT story Thanks for sharing!!

[JAMarine]

Thank you Roger for the Post. You are always "On The Mark".

Major! Nice story. Amazing. Truely Amazing.

Semper Fi Brother and Sisters.