Author: SgtGrit

I wrote this for a very close friend whom through the years I have fallen in love with. He joined right after High School and is just finishing the last of his training. Through it all he reminds me that this is what he and his fellow Marines were meant to do and I carry that in my heart. read more

Spirit of America
by Erich Hartung

SPIRIT OF AMERICA poem (pdf)

This isn't a usual story. I'm not a Marine, but rather I'm active-duty Navy. I have a cousin who's a Marine, and as a matter of fact I used to be a Young Marine when I was in high school. But the purpose of my email is to simply submit a poem that I wrote in memory of Cpl Jason Dunham, the recen Medal of Honor recipient who gave his life for fellow Marines while in combat in Iraq in 2004. I was extremely humbled to hear his story and at the same time burdened to write something in honor of his sacrifice. I hope and trust that you could use this poem to remember everything that Jason as well as other Marines, Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen have done not only for our country, but also for each other. read more

The Spirit of America
by Erich Hartung

You won't find him on a field,
playing football for some fans;
And you won't hear him on a stage,
singing solo for some band.
You won't see him on TV
entertaining many folks;
And you won't hear him at the club
telling off a bunch of jokes.
Instead you're gonna find him
working hard behind the scenes;
Fighting, sweating and bleeding hard
with United States Marines.
Most of us can't comprehend
of what went through his mind;
Or why he chose to join the Corps
and leave civilian life behind.
When the bullets started flying,
something landed at their feet.
Once they noticed what it was,
they knew their maker they would meet.
But he was forced to make a choice,
a choice to hide or dive.
Being the man that he was,
he chose to save some lives.
As the tears rain down
from the heav'ns up above,
A mother and a father cry
for their son they'll always love.
He was just a child to some,
but a hero to even more;
The bravest of the brave,
devoted to the Corps.
You would find him with his friends
forever standing tall.
But he was just a boy of twenty-two
when called to give his all.
We just don't understand why,
so we just cast our doubts.
But we just don't see that
it's what America's all about.
And as this young man
is laid to final rest,
He fits perfect in formation
with our nation's best.
Lest we not forget
what the Good Lord up above has said,
"Greater love hath no man
than to lay his life down for a friend." read more

Dear Sgt. Grit,

As the holidays are approaching, it is easy to get caught up in the chaos that this season brings, and it never ceases to amaze me how quickly people forget about what is really important. Thousands of members of our armed forces our stationed either overseas, or just plain far away from home this Christmas, with no family to celebrate with. I myself have many friends in the various branches, and I know how hard it is for them to be away from home. I wrote this poem last year as a school project, but it turned into a prayer that I keep on my wall, which reminds me daily to pray for our Armed Forces, and to thank them for their sacrifice. I thought I’d share it with you and your readers with the hope that maybe it will inspire or remind them the importance of never taking our freedom and their sacrifice for granted. Wishing you all the best this Christmas season. read more

STONE FACED FEW
by LCpl Keel

All this happiness,
All of these sorrows,
Bottled up anger and a smirk on the surface,
Do you all see this?
We rose to the call,
and at times of inspection we shine,
Eyes clouded with worry and doubt,
carrying the weight,
Endless humps and a longing glance,
A thousand yard stare and a sneer from one passing by,
Cold beyond the soul,
Clambering hands that search for our hearts,
Promises of punishment to those who hurt the ones we have,
On the inside these eyes see red,
On the outside, rifle in hand and a stone set face,
Our hands ready to release the anger,
Wishing to drop the weight,
Lashing out,
And still wondering why,
We see you walk by,
With your fake smiles and forced laughs,
Your ever critical stare,
Criticize I.
Not ME,
for there was only once a soul.
Not US,
for we have done nothing so undeserving as to receive what you readily dish out. Happily force feeding,
yet can you swallow your own poisonous criticism?
Have we lost these “souls” as you say,
or do you simply take your easy route and ignore them?
We watch you as your behavior is strange.
A cry for help then a shove from our shelter,
Were moving on.
Boots laced tight,
endless miles ahead.
True laughter and a shot held high for those who are gone.
We are ready,
Then the surface calms and the thousand yard stare is regained. read more

Dear Sgt. Grit,

Hi my name is Misty Bergman. I am married to Cpl. Bergman, Braden. (USMC) Back in February, I wrote a poem about how i felt about my husband leaving for Iraq. Cpl. Bermgan read it, and thought i should send it Sgt. Grit. Here’s a little info about the two of us. read more

A Love Stronger Than Life
By: Lindsey Harland

When I woke up that day,
I felt a bit strange.
I was thinking of life,
and how so many things change.

My Marine had come home
only three days before
that morning I realized
why I was living with the Corps.

Our story began
so long ago,
so young and in high school
and so eager to go read more

Such As Regiments Hand Down Forever
by Jim Isajewicz, 2007

At attention; as the Anthem plays
I remember the look on each man?s face.
As I stand straight, some of them stoop
But each man?s heart is tall

So the music ends; all hands retract
And forward comes the entire pack
Of Devil Dogs, less lean but mean
As any of us have been. read more

TAPS
SSGT Francis X Curran USMC (Ret.)

A soul wrenching sound echoes across the land,
As the Souls of the innocents shoulder-to-shoulder stand.
(Day is done, nine -one- one.)

Bugles sob, survivor?s weep,
And a Nation vows its word to keep.
(Gone the sun, nine-one-one.)

At ground Zero, where the towers fell,
Hero?s marched bravely into Hell.
(Day is done, nine-one-one.) read more

The Tattoo
By: Gerald F. Merna and Dean A. Smith

Over waffles and coffee in the Reston VA Diner one morning
Two friends recalled Marine memories, and an idea came aborning
In common they shared their deep love of the Corps
And each lamented they failed a tattoo to score

Each said to the other they “always wanted a tattoo”
Of Eagle, Globe and Anchor, with service dates too
Allowing the Emblem was among overlooked needs,
After years of Corps’ service, performing honorable deeds.

Both agreed they’d go get one (with a slight hint of bluff?)
Firmly determined that they still “had the right stuff.”
So to Leesburg they traveled, with nary a blink
To Loudoun’s only tattoo parlor, appropriately named “Insane Ink”

The apparent age difference between these proud Marines
Mattered not because they had parallel dreams
So waivers and fees accomplished, Jerry would be first to explore
The needle’s irritating flow and its motors grating score

“How’s it feel” thoughtfully inquired the younger Dean
Upon seeing slight grimaces from the older Marine
“Not as bad as I thought, but I could do with a ‘Bud,”
Was the answer from Jerry showing a few droplets of blood.

Almost two hours later, a gold-colored Emblem appeared
Then the artist ensured Jerry’s forearm was surgically cleared
Dean snapped a few pictures to record this event
So both could show later how much this really meant
The new Emblem in color loomed bright and clear
With inscribed years of service, and “Dot Forever” for his Spouse so dear

USMC 19471968
Dot1951Forever
“Now it’s your turn,” the artist matter-of-factly did announce
And pointed to Dean who entered, though not with a bounce.

A name for his forearm was first, an arm so large for one word
But its five letters spelled out a fine name to be heard

The name “B E C C A” emerged in amorous ink
The light of Dean’s life, of her and Son Nick he does lovingly think
Now for the hard part, the needle on calf
“Stretch out on this bench” said the artist with a laugh.
But as long as it was, the bench was no prize
Because our man Dean is not of average size

It was Jerry’s turn to watch, taking pictures as well
While Dean endured his two hours of hell

While a radio played mindlessly (with some heavy metal band)
Dean’s Marine Emblem took form, and looked just grand
Displaying the Camp David logo, his earned choice of brand

MARINE SECURITY CO.
CAMP DAVID
Both men’s art was bandaged; they were no worse for the fray
And Dean and Jerry headed home, their new tattoos to display
But their dreams were accomplished, and they both did endure
And forever possess the Emblem worn only by Marines of the Corps

Gerald F. Merna
Dean A. Smith
GFM-08-11-02 read more