November 10th, 1969. Lima Co., 3/26. That was my first Marine Corps Birthday. Don't know if it was yours. You were a 2nd Lieutenant Platoon Commander and I was a 81 mortar crew PFC. Hill 124 in Viet Nam and we'd just come off Hai Van Pass.
I was 5 days shy of a whole 8 months in our beloved Corps and a whopping 2 months in Country. As I recall, the day was overcast and cool. The red clay mud was somewhat dried out. We were just beginning our regimen of living off 2 C-Rats a day and I don't remember ever getting a hot meal out there both times we were on the hill. But I do remember the 10th.
Sometime after noon this lone CH-46 comes chugging in from the SE and lands, not on the shelf LZ where the water buffalo was, but up on top closer to the CP with its nose facing back to the SE for a quick get-away. A working party formed and unloaded a small bunch of cases and this cook/messman in white trousers and green T-shirt comes down the ramp wheeling this rickety old mess hall cart with a cake on it and into the almost dried red clay mud. The working party was useful in manhandling the cart to a more secure place out from under the tail rotor.
Word was passed for everybody to line up, the cook/messman carefully cutting pieces of the cake ensuring each Marine got a piece somewhat slimmer than a slice of bread from a store bought loaf and each Marine getting two beers and a soda. The cook/messman trundled his rickety cart with the remainder of the cake back up into the 46 to go to the next company down the line somewhere out in the boonies and we all moved back to re-man our respective gun pits and line positions. No Field Music, no oldest/youngest, no reading of messages, just a lone CH-46 chugging away to the SE.
(And Yes, That Is A CH-46 Taking Off From Hill 124 RVN 1969 From My Photo Album)
As dismal as this remembrance sounds, I think of it fondly every November 10th realizing that it is exactly the essence of who Marines are, and why we celebrate our birthday. I believe we are the only fighting force known that stops a war to have a beer together and wish each other a Happy Birthday! I've always wondered if the Continental Marines on H-ll's Half Acre in the Delaware on November 10th, 1776 outside Philadelphia took a moment over a flagon of rum that day?
So Mike, tomorrow evening I'll hold my flagon up to you, D-ck and a long green line of Marines stretching back over 44 years in my life and drink a deep toast to:
"That mud encrusted, sweat soaked, blood shot eyed, steely, non-rate, enlisted little son of a b-tch who has kept the wolf from this Country's door for 238 years and without whom, we as leaders would have no reason to exist. Gentleman, the Marine Rifleman!"
And to all my Marines out there who may receive this, Happy
Birthday and Semper Fidelis!
OOORAH,
Captain Mac