Semper Fidelis, Marines 🇺🇸

Yesterday was a particularly bad day in almost two decades of profound courage, loss, sacrifice, and service. As I said when I started this particular blog, I don’t want to get too political here. That is particularly tough today with the events of yesterday and the way that we are seeing things unfold on the other side of the world. But I am choosing to say “thank you” to those United States Marines, the Navy corpsman, and the Army paratrooper that gave the ultimate sacrifice in the defense and service to our nation. This is my gratitude and my thanks for their courage, their sacrifice, and their love of country.

I grew up on the North Carolina coast in a tourist community that saw its share of Marines out to have a good time. While there may have been some incidents of less-than-acceptable behavior on display, I really can’t think of any particular incident that stands out. I do recall seeing uniformed Marine military police officers working with the local police officers to keep the peace. They must have done a pretty good job, as again I don’t recall any serious trouble. I certainly had no animosity for the Marines that came to Carolina Beach and Pleasure Island to have a good time.

That didn’t mean that we might not have had a moment’s fun at one’s expense. Sitting in the back of a pickup truck with a bunch of other young guys one summer evening, I remember us guys playfully taunting a Marine in a polo shirt and tight white pants proudly strutting down the street as we passed. Together in unison all the guys in the back of the pickup truck called out “YOO-HOO, CANDYASS!” It was particularly funny to us when the offended Marine scowled and sprinted after the truck in hot pursuit. I am certain that I laughed as hard as any of the guys in the back of that pickup truck, but I was silently thankful that we did not suffer a breakdown or get stuck in traffic so that the angry Marine could catch up to us. None of us doubted the courage or the toughness of a United States Marine.

When I was a young man at Lake Forest Junior High School in Wilmington, North Carolina, we experienced the shock, sorrow, and outrage of learning that United States Marines, sailors, and soldiers on a peacekeeping mission had been killed and wounded in Beirut, Lebanon when their barracks was targeted by a suicide bomber. This bombing constituted the greatest loss of life in a single-day for the United States military since the Vietnam War. For the United States Marine Corps (USMC), it constituted the biggest single-day loss of Marines since the Battle of Iwo Jima. The bombing killed 241 and wounded over a hundred others, some mortally and included in the death total.

I remember a teacher scolding our English class one day not long after this for not appreciating that young men not much older than us were dead and others were standing watch for us even at that moment. Honestly, I don’t know to this day what precipitated that chastisement. I certainly was feeling what many others were feeling.

At the time, I was a student in our school’s Naval Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (NJROTC) program. The United States Marine Corps falls under the Department of the Navy (Marines will tell you that they make up the Men’s Department). So I knew a bit about the Marines. Around the same time as the Beirut Barracks Bombings (a French military barracks had also been targeted), United States Marines, other branches of the United States Armed Forces, and some Caribbean allies had taken the island nation of Grenada in the Caribbean. Our military members were in the news and on our minds.

That same school year, me and others from our NJROTC unit including cadets from other area schools spent a week at Camp Lejeune. It was an opportunity to see the Marines up close and personal and to experience a bit of military life and what being a United States Marine was all about.

I can’t say that I enjoyed the early AM shouting one particular morning that resulted from someone on the fire watch shirking his duty after I had completed my stint spent walking the barracks. I certainly didn’t enjoy the physical training that followed the shouting. But I still remember Gunnery Sergeant Martin. I remember his military bearing and his dry sense of humor. I remember him telling us that he had some VC pajamas from his time in Vietnam.

Truth be told, I really enjoyed the experience. I enjoyed the range where we got to see a variety of weapons being fired and an opportunity to fire the M16 assault rifle. We were not allowed to shoot it in the 3-round burst mode, being limited to semiautomatic fire only. But we did get some tracer rounds and it was cool to see the bullet fly out and hit a distant target. I enjoyed some water survival training and lessons on how to safely abandon ship. I enjoyed a trip to see what Marine meteorologists do, a ride on a piece of self- propelled artillery, and an opportunity to throw training grenades and assault a bunker. I got to enjoy an MRE or Meal, Ready-to-Eat as well as the plentiful and surprisingly tasty food in the chow hall. I enjoyed a trip to the base’s bowling alley, movie theater, and watched a variety show in a base auditorium. I didn’t get to “enjoy” the gas chamber due to being asthmatic (what ultimately kept me out of the military), although I did sit through the lecture on how to put on a gas mask and administer atropine to myself. I even got to shop in the Marine Corps Exchange.

As you would expect, I encountered a number of Marines while on Camp Lejeune. I met plenty of gung ho Marines like Gunnery Sergeant Martin. I also met one Marine that cautioned us against joining the Marines. He said that he intended to join the Air Force when he completed his term with the USMC.

I ultimately didn’t get to serve in the military. I spoke with a number of recruiters from the various branches. I didn’t speak with a Marine recruiter. Part of it was due to being asthmatic. I knew that the Marines were widely regarded as having the most challenging basic training. I knew that getting into the military in any branch was going to be an uphill climb as it was.

Ultimately, I was unable to convince the powers that be in the United States Navy that I should be granted a medical exemption. Although I had some friends encourage me to lie about having asthma to enlist, I decided not to do so. Friends in the Navy encouraged me to enlist. One friend in the Air Force assured me that I could pass the fitness test for the Air Force without any problem. Another friend told me he knew someone in Army basic training that had an inhaler. When I reminded my friend that all those official government documents bore stern warnings about providing false information, he tried to reassure me that the military wasn’t concerned with prosecuting people lying to enlist, but more with people lying to evade prosecution or to get out of the service. He was probably right. I had known of plenty of cases where people had lied about their age or their health history/status to serve in prior wars. Even Steve Rodgers, a.k.a. Captain America lied to serve in the world of comic books and movies. And in the movie Blackhawk Down, there is a scene where a soldier in Somalia uses an inhaler (acute bronchitis?).

But my concerns about a lie inadvertently putting my friends and teammates at risk and the very real possibility that my long medical history would come out during even a cursory search of my medical records, dissuaded me from doing so. I figured a physician would likely catch me during a routine medical examination anyway. During a 9th-grade football physical performed in a room full of other would-be football players, a doctor put a stethoscope to my chest, listened for a moment, and asked me if I was asthmatic. It didn’t stop me from playing baseball, football, or wrestling during my high school years. My love of sports and tolerance for tough physical training was one of the reasons why the Army recruiter encouraged me to consider enlisting and serving as a light infantryman (I am sure that he had an incentive). But asthma was a disqualifying medical condition for the service academies and ultimately as an enlisted member of the United States Armed Forces.

Humorously enough, during the first Gulf War (Operation Desert Shield/Operation Desert Storm) I got a letter from the United States Marine Corps. They acknowledged that there was a war underway, but wanted to reassure me that it would in no way lead to substandard or abbreviated training. I laughingly joked with a coworker about the letter. I told him that if I enlisted I would undoubtedly go through basic training, training at the School of Infantry, and get shipped off right away to the Gulf. He laughingly assured me that a dry desert climate would be just what the doctor ordered for my asthma. Truth be told, I would have enlisted that day if I thought that I could have done so successfully.

Following the monstrous terrorist attacks of 9/11, I seriously considered trying once more to enlist. I was furious and I wanted to fight. I was done with school and I had no personal ties holding me back. But I realized that with the even more prolific and more accessible computer networks of the time, it was even more likely that I would get caught being less-than-truthful. Seeing the cost in American lives, I sometimes wish that I had taken a chance. But I have to put my faith in the belief that God had other plans for me.

Yesterday was tough. Even if I lied about my being asthmatic, I am now too old to serve. But yesterday proved that there are truly some evil bastards in the world that need killing and I am thankful for the Marines that present them with the tab for their monstrous acts. Semper fi, Leathernecks! Give them hell, Devil Dogs! My thoughts and prayers are with you, your loved ones, and with the loved ones of your fellow service members that died yesterday. May you someday enjoy the peace that you have so courageously and steadfastly fought to preserve for so many others.