Category: Marine Corps Stories

It was to my surprise that I was put in charge of the records of seven of us leaving little RI . When we arrived in Connecticut I was given 60 some more, and told to keep them all together to PI. Well all went fine until we landed in NC and met another 30 some. As you might guess this dumb, soon to be, was given the other paper work. This didn't bother me much until I realized the bus ride was about two hours later and the beers were cheap and the drinking age there was 18, and we all knew it would be a long time before we got another chance. On boarding the bus my concern grew. I was two bodies short and at the next stop, (except for a p-ss stop), was those yellow foot prints. My concern was forgotten when that nice gentelman LOL, DI told us a–ho—to elbows on those yellow footprints . It was around 3 A.M. and we were either to tired or to drunk to do much and the DIs must have been also because no flag was raised over the missing 2 and they did arrive before we completed our night of horror sitting at those old high school desks with the arm piece to write on.          read more

It was early one hot and humid day in 1967 or 68'. I was driving from my off-base home to join my fellow Marine DIs and our recruit platoon at 3rdBn, Parris Island. Suddenly, I saw two lean young men with closely shaven heads run across the road into a freshly plowed large field. Instinct convinced me they were AWOL recruits. I quickly parked my car on the shoulder and put the flashers on. Minus my DI cover, I began to chase them across the field. It didn’t take long after dashing across deep furrows for our movements to seem like a movie in slow motion. Soil quickly filled my spit-shined shoes. At 25 years old and a former physical fitness instructor, I was in great shape. So were the escapees. Soon I began to see small white specks dance around in my vision; a sign of over exertion. But I was determined. After all, I was an invincible DI. And I wasn’t about to let these misguided men head to Canada. I caught up with the slower recruit just as we were about to enter a marshy, wooded area. I threw him down and yelled for him to stay. Surprisingly, he sat on the ground mumbling about something. I was out of breathe. I recovered a bit once I began running through the woods. Then, I tripped over a large log and fell. I began running again. Suddenly the lead recruit turned, picked up a club-like branch and began swinging it at me. It occurred to me that both escapees may try to harm me. I yelled and ran like I was making a bayonet charge. I knocked the man to the ground. Both of us were heavily panting. I grabbed his T-shirt while forcing him to join the first escapee. Then we had the tiring walk across the field to my car. I looked up and saw several spectators who had been watching the event. Thankfully, one Marine helped me get the two recruits in my locked car. I remember the escapees asking what was going to happen to them. The Marine drove the 20 minutes to PI and notified the MPs. My shoes were slashed, dented and soaked from running in the marsh. My khaki trousers were permanently stained and torn. Soon, I returned home to change uniforms. You can imagine how shocked my wife was to see me. Was what I did a smart thing to do? You can probably imagine what happened to the recruits. Then again, maybe not. We badly needed fighters in Vietnam. They would at least be 62 years old now (2012). One wonders if they would ever share this story with their family. I’ll soon be 69. Hope you enjoyed another true story from my tenure. read more