Serving in this timeline I caught the DC military movement by hellivacopter in 1971 from LeJeune Marine Base to surround white house for about a week and went back to go to Camp Hanson Okinawa then on Pacific Fleet movement to Vietnam for Marine removal by Tricky Dicky Nixon. The commies piled up on the South Vietnamese with North Nam and in 1972 nay 140,000 to 165,000 uniform regular Chinese moved to get to Da Nang along the coast were 2nd Pacific fleet came in. In a meeting on ship we all decided to move the Navy boats into Da Nang river and clobber these communist with the big guns when they come through elephant valley, which was a communist blood bath… We used to hit the radio man and piped out his radio to the communist “We are the Marines, We are devil dogs, we are coming for you, we carry this flag so you know whom will kill you, and we bring you a helmet full of hell”. Their ranks lost 50% for their runaways… and marines made them run, run, and run… hahahaha…. and since we had a kill ratio 10 to 20 times higher than the army, they believed us…
Category: Main
The passing of an Old Marine and the Heroism of a young one.
My Brother-in Law Edward Davis and his granddaughter died in a house fire on Saturday May 29th. Ed was an old corps Marine having served as a tanker in Vietnam. Ed never talked much about his service in Vietnam but my sister Kathy told me he had some pretty horrific dreams about it. Ed was living with his daughter Patty Ann and her Husband Fred Fredricks (also a Marine having served in Iraq and Afghanistan and currently working for the Gatlinburg TN Police Department). Ed had been living with his daughter after his wife (my sister) passed away about 5 years ago. Patty Anne and Fred had two children, Shauna (bean) their 18 year old daughter, and Joey their pre-teen son. Shauna died with her Grandfather in the fire. Fred suffered burned lungs and is currently in the intensive care unit at the burn center in Nashville TN. Fred received those injuries because after realizing his Father-In-Law and his daughter did not make it out of the burning home he went back into a house that was fully engulfed in flames to attempt to get them out. Eddie is now with Kathy in heaven. Unfortunately Patty Ann and Freddy now have to mourn their daughter who was scheduled to start college in the fall. Patty Ann also lost her younger brother to a blood infection just moths ago. Pray for Patty and Fred? They really need it.
Retired Marine
I served in the USMC from April 1976 through June 1997. I attended Officer Candidates School (PLC Combined) the summer of 1976. I was assigned to Delta Company, 4th Platoon and my senior drill instructor was GYSGT Wells. I remember reading the list of casualties from the Beirut bombing which killed many outstanding Americans, and unfortunately there was 1st Sergeant Wells name. I was very saddened about his death because he was a great Marine who shared many of his life experiences from Viet Nam to our platoon of officer candidates. He went above and beyond traditional Marine Corps training requirements, he shared a piece of himself with us. God Bless you 1st Sergeant Wells and Semper Fi.
Stephen Hill
Major USMC (Ret.)
Two Med Floats to the Root, 1983 & 1985
Hello, all my marine brothers! First, thank you for your dedicated service no matter what branch! I proudly served from 1982 to 1986 where it started @ Parris Island then to Camp Pendelton for amphibian assault vehicle training then to Beirut, Lebanon (May – Nov ’83) for my first Med float (USS Harlan County). My 2nd Med Float (USS Spartanburg County) in 1985 was interrupted by the high-jacking of a TWA commercial airliner and we were off the coast on standby to evac Americans for the university there. To round out my active duty, I participated in Cold Weather operations in Norway. A tough 4 years especially with the losses of 220 of our brothers on that fateful day, Oct. 23rd, 1983. Never forgotten! Semper Fi Marines!
Great minds unsuccessfully co-exist with heavy artillery.
Before I landed at Chu Lai, July 1965 with 1st 155 Guns (SP), I inverted two magazines tightly wrapped with electrician’s tape and came ashore with confidence that my added firepower would rue the day, easily neutralizing envisioned nasty, fire breathing indigenous heathens with my superior military creativity. Another time I returned incoming small arms fire. Excited to bag my first trophy, my rifle jammed after the second round. I flipped magazines. Another three rounds fired. Jammed! Nonetheless I confidently persevered even with the additional weight of two loaded magazines in the tedious heat of a long patrol. I pondered the value of my experiment, unwrapped, thoroughly cleaned the magazines and repositioned them, rewrapped and reloaded with fresh ammo. Nothing! Silent, ominous pictures in my brain finally assured me of my folly. I buried my superlative, yet ill conceived invention, offered a few words of wisdom and with appropriate ceremony included my red cape, mask and tights. I resorted to standard mags the remainder of my tour. Too bad. I was never able to justify “my imagined lethality” with 40 continuous and glorious rounds fired down range.
But I’m convinced the laughter of my enemy, much older now but with long memories that still ring throughout the provenance with stories of that “Boocoo Dinky Dow”. Subsequently I carried a Grease Gun on future excursions into the jungle; a much wiser Marine. Somewhere I heard the raspy voice of my DI: “Son, if the Corps wanted you to have a double mag he would have issued you one!”
1st. Guns (SP) 3rd. 8″ Howitzer (SP)
1965-1966
For all who are curious about survival, its guilty consequence and PTSD, my novel “The Price for Glory” a story of Destiny’s mystics and mysteries will be published in August.
Colorado Mounted Marines 1958-1962
In 1957 my dad B.A. Weil took me to the Denver coliseum to see the scotch drum and bugle corps the Black Watch. It was spectacular; a chill ran up and down my spine. The USMC had a Color guard in the show that was real eye catching. While there dad became reacquainted with Captain Gene Martin USMC who was in charge of the color guard. Dad a 4th Cavalry Captain who served in China, Burma and India [including a horse back reconisince thru Mongolia to Tibet] had known Captain Martin somewhere along the way. After much talk over some time Martin got permission to start a mounted color guard with dad. Many mounted color guards use English saddles and tack which was not at all true Horse Marine equipment. Dad wanted the project done correct as he was the real deal, in the last of the real mounted Calvary. Dad had horses for his outfitting hunting business, the use of which he offered. He sourced and purchased 5 sets of authentic McClellan saddles and tack made in India. Marine volunteers mostly from the Denver recuting center were trained by dad with me being the young gopher stable man. The Denver post and Rocky mountain news ran stories on the colorful mounted guard doing many parades in Denver. We still have photos and news stories. At 19, I enlisted in the Corp spending 6 years in the reserve. Captain Martian retired to Crested Butte as a major. Dad received an accommodation from the Corp for his Mounted color guard work. He had received recognition as well in WWII, shot twice while jumping behind Japanese lines as an OSS officer, captured and tortured. He was rescued by Burmese teens younger them I when I enlisted. He took the surrender of main land Japanese as the XO, lt. colonel for the day. We still have the samurai surrender sword.
Beautiful Women Marines
In response to Cpl J Baerncopf’s story about the WM 1st Lieutenant at Camp Lejeune and Marine Corps Policy on the Salute, I’m reminded of AWS at Quantico in 1995. As a reservist, AWS was held over two summers. It was my Phase I in 1995 when I saw her — Major C C from NYC, who was in Phase 2. Tall, drop-dead gorgeous, red-headed Irish beauty. She was a ’10’ in any male Marine’s book. I think she was with 6th Comm in NYC. She was not, however, just beautiful. She was intelligent, quick-witted, with a smile which lit up the heavens, and a ‘hard-body’ who worked out every day in the gym. It was love at first sight! On the last day of the Phase, I knew she had graduated and would not be back in my next Phase, so I purposely waited outside the building so I could salute her as she came out. I forget the exact words of her response to my salute but I think I floated on air the rest of the day! Alas, as I expected, I never saw her again….I hope she’s well and happy today!
Late night head call.
Head calls and shower times in boot camp were always a trip. After lights out one night, and because there was never enough time during the day to do a #2, I went to the head expecting maybe a little privacy and a chance to do a #2, but when I stepped through the door way I was surprised to see every stool occupied by a platoon of recruits from the Phillipines. Some couldn’t even touch the floor. Needless to say I had to wait. Hurry and wait. Semper Fi!
Joe Washington
MCB Camp Pendleton
69-71
2/LT Saftey Officer A/1/12
I was the safety officer for a demo shoot that the brute would inspect. Prior to the demo shoot I was told I had been chosen for the photo op due to my height. I was to remain alert and when the photographer came in to sight I was, if need be, to walk on my knees in order to appear a tad shorter than the general. Short in stature but a great leader and inventor of the landing craft.
I cleaned that Head.
I reminisce as I read your story, I too experienced similar feelings the first few days. Then I recalled what my Dad, a WWII USN Veteran, said when I left for boot camp, son your ass belongs to the U S Marines, that DI can do anything he wants to you, but remember he can’t kill you and eat you. So listen, follow instructions to the letter, you’ll be fine, but life as you known it, is about to change. So, I straighten my shit and repeated what Dad said to myself and my ass became one of few and the proud. I finished on time, no set backs, with the best damn platoon in three Companies. We had more pennants than all the other platoons had combined. I call I my million dollar experience, I wouldn’t take a million dollars for the experience, but know that I wouldn’t go through it again for a million dollars.