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August 1969 I was preparing to start college while working in a steel mill. At 18 years old this seemed a hard way to get ahead. With out thinking too far ahead I went to the Armed forces recruiter station to join the Navy. I figured how hard can the Navy be (my apologies to all the Docs I certainly know better know how great you guys are). The Navy recruiter was out too lunch and a voice bellowed from the back of the room he will be back shortly have a seat. I am ashamed I don’t remember his name but he was the most squared away looking man I had met in my young life, A Staff Sergeant in the United States Marines. Needless to say while he ate his lunch at his desk we decided the Marines might be just the challenge I was looking for. read more

I remember it well also it was at the foot off Hill-327. I spent many sundays trucking Marines to the PX and Beer Garden there. Had more than a few there myself and even met one of my drill instructors there. The thing that I remember the most about the beer garden is that it was huge and always full of service personel from all branches and we all had to check our weapons in at the door. Also a great place to appropriate a new jeep or 5 ton from the Army to give the mechanics something to paint MC green and put new TAC marks on. read more

Every day flying the H-37 “Deuce” was not without some sort of adventure for the Flight Crew of this particular series helicopter. Some of the events that transpired were planned and some were not.

I recall one incident that happened on the way flying back from, I think it was Florida from a place then known in the Aviation Field as PAR (Periodic Aircraft Rebuild) I think that was what it stood for, except we used to call it (Paint And Return) because that’s about all they did at that time. Anyway, when we received the Aircraft at NAS Jacksonville it had all the windows and hatches installed. Just like it came out of the factory. read more

The recent medal for bravery that I received for actions in Vietnam along the banks of the Song Vu Gia River while trying to save a wounded Marine has received an invitation from Pat Boone to meet him while he is in Chattanooga this month. The connection between Mr. Pat Boone and I goes back to his wonderful song “Moody River”. This song was playing on the radio at the time I was serving in Vietnam. It was my favorite song. read more

We ( VMA- 121) were aboard the Coral Sea on New Years 1960. We had been at sea for two weeks or so, and expected a great liberty to bring in the New Year. My section caught the duty, so we were aboard that first night in port. At some dark hour that New Years Day morning, the Bosun piped over the speaker, “All hands go to your sea duty stations” ! Looking around our compartment, most of the bunks were empty. We really weren’t going anywhere, most of our guys were missing. After a very short nap, we were blasted again. This time it was the ships’ exec, who admonished that all hands were to go to their sea duty stations, as we were getting underway, immediately. Those of us who were there, dressed and went topside, awaiting further word. read more

My fondest memory of Christmas in the Marine Corps was 1976. I was assigned at the Infantry Training School (ITS), at Camp Pendleton. A year prior I was assigned to Camp Horno where my mother had sent me 2 pounds of fudge and I handed out pieces to my fellow Marines including my Company Commander, Captain Martin Shimick. During the early months of 1976 we both transferred out of the unit. He was promoted to Major and sent to the 5th Marines and I moved to ITS. A few days before Christmas in 1976 my mom sent me 2 pounds of fudge and like the year prior I passed out pieces to my fellow Marines. On Christmas morning 1976 I was in my room reading when there was a knock on my door. The staff duty said I had a visitor and to get dressed. I followed him to his desk and sitting at it was Major Shimick. He saw me and asked if my mother had sent me more fudge for Christmas. I went back to my room to retrieve the fudge. I sat with Major Shimick and the staff duty and ate my mother’s Christmas fudge on Christmas morning in 1976. It has become one of my fondest memories of Christmas in the Corps. To all those Marines serving or have served, Merry Christmas. Sergeant Martin Spann, USMC (1974-1977). read more

I was in the fourth or fifth week of boot camp at MCRD in August 1953 when our senior DI called out “private Daly — front and center.” He stacked one locker box on top of the other and had me climb up on them. He then read the following words written on the flap of a letter from my girlfriend Margaret. “Postman, postman do your duty. Rush this letter to my Cutie.” From that day on I was known as Private Cutie at roll call, mail call and any other time the DI addressed me. That name stuck with me until I was transferred to the 3rd MarDiv 12th Marines, in 1954. In my next letter to Margaret, I told her NEVER to write ANYTHING on the outside of the envelope again. She never did !  read more

The first time for interior guard around 2nd BN area at MCRDPI I was posted around the mess hall area with one portion of my route on Panama St. in front of those old wooden barracks (this was Nov. ’67). On one trip around I could hear pounding and shouting from two voices one definitely the DI’s and I guessed the other was a recruit. But, whatever was going on was coming from the squad bay area. Next trip around it was all quiet. Next time by the ambulance was pulling away. Heard through the grape vine that while the DI was pacing between the rows in the squad bay, the plt was doing the manual while in skivvies, one of the t*rds snapped and launched a horizontal butt stroke at the head of the DI as he passed by. But, those amphibious monsters have eyes in the back of their heads so the kid whiffed, didn’t even get any of the Smokey, and landed himself in the hospital and brig. Our plt never had a revolt of any kind other than one alpha hotel who hung a foxtrot uniform on the Senior and just disappeared after we got back to barn. The guide and house mouse just packed his gear and took it away. It was early enough in the cycle that I wasn’t going to risk moving my eyes away from directly to the front to see what happened to the smart a$$. read more

I served eight years FMF….I did three tours in Vietnam as a Recon Corpsman but time in combat ended up taking their toll on me…seeing too much combat and too much death put me in a private H&ll that only other Combat Veterans, could ever understand… you learn what the word “Frightened” is all about…. you learn how to walk away from your brothers when they are laying there dead in a shelter half, waiting for the Chopper to come in and take them home. To survive, you know that you have to shut down all feelings and just do your job. A lot of veterans coming out of combat have already lost their ability to “restart” their emotions and live a normal life. They will carry the memories of combat for their entire life. The civilian Dr’s have attached many names to our demons…from “survivor guilt” to the catch all “PTSD”. But they will never truly know what we are feeling. read more