Sgt Grit is a place where Marines can come and meet other Marines, share tattoos and stories, keep up with Marine Corps news, or shop for USMC gear.
A MARINE BIRTHDAY
(November 10)
Eight years after they were formed
At the end of the Revolutionary War
All the Navy?s ships were sold
Marines and Sailors were no more.
Then, in Seventeen ninety-eight
The Marines once more came to be
And they fought Barbary pirates
Along the ?Shores of Tripoli?.
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
We just received your new catalogue and as usual my husband (Gary Harp) has been through it several times wishing for the money to buy all of his wishes and wants and muttering long poetic diatribes of profanity that only old Marine Corps drill instructors can do justice because there was “not one “God )&^%&, mother &%%%&^%, *^%* sucking, *&$% licking, piece of *&%^ *&#$% in the whole God (*^&(, %$(#@, book that says Combat Disabled or Useless )(^^&* Crippled Piece of *%^* > Marine.”
Semper Fl
Marine am I
Fashioned by my DI
San Dye-ego or P1
Gal or guy, bold or shy
Float or fly, sea or sky
Wet or dry, head held high
Eye to eye — do or die
Sailor boy or ex-GI
Family or no such tie
Marching private
Quiet corpsman
Even so called
Sea-going doorman
Far or nigh
Curse or sigh
None deny
Sir, aye aye
Marine am I
Semper Fi
!
SAL PARLATO Jr
(aka Chris Madeira)
Through all the fires,
Through all the pain,
The Marines stand tall,
To fight once again.
Always on call,
The Presidents own.
Always fighting,
To protect our home.
My life for our freedom,
My freedom to you,
These are gifts that we give,
For the Red White and Blue.
Dear Sgt. Grit, I’ve been reading your newsletters for a while now. Some letters bring tears and some bring great joy and pride. My son went thru bootcamp back in October of 2006. Two weeks into it, he wondered what the heck he did, but by week 4, things started to settle in as to what was expected from him. I think EVERY kid in America should go thru the Marines bootcamp. I think our society would be way better as a result. I am darn proud of my son’s drill instructors. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t be the man he is today. They do more for our sons and daughters then we will ever know. I wrote them a poem and sent it to my son’s SDI upon my son’s graduation from Echo Co. Plt 2026 to let him and his team know how GREATLY THEY ARE APPRECIATED!
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My first grandson, Eric B. Forehand, returned to Camp Pendleton
for additional training after his 10 day boot camp leave.
It had been nine months since the terrorist attack.
Eric was on his boot camp leave but now he was going back.
He had spent some time with his Mother, he had hardly been here.
But he packed up his sea bag and kept out the uniform that he would wear.
He had his Marine dress greens cleaned and ready to don.
His garrison cap fit exactly right when he put it on.
Two fingers were under the brim but you could still see the gaze
That only smiled rarely since his boot camp days.
The Kelly green uniform had been pressed so spick
That you could shave on the crease with nary a nick.
Even without the uniform you knew this was a Marine
For he marched instead of walking and was serious and keen.
But in his class A dress there wasn’t any doubt
Here was a Marine and he was going out.
Now Oceanside and San Diego see Marines every day
They are inured to seeing men march that special way
But Houston seldom sees Marines in green uniform
In South-east Texas this was surely not the norm.
So when Eric marched into Hobby Airport that fine day
The traveling crowd did more than just give way.
It was like Moses crossing the Red Sea as the crowds split asunder
And the waiting room grew quieter like after a clap of thunder.
After a period of time like in a movie scene
A voice spoke up and said: “Look, a Marine!”
The ticket agents rushed to him and put him first in line.
The people waiting nodded like for them that was just fine.
He didn’t seem so big and strong to raise up such a scene
But he stood straight and proud, because he was a Marine.
They checked his bags and gave him a boarding card to keep
They turned off the security machine because the Marine emblem would make it beep.
“I’ll feel safer if he is on our flight.” You could hear some people say
While he marched the aisle in cadence to his loading gateway.
Well Eric has gone now and he has called to say
That he made it to Camp Pendleton and everything is OK.
But here in El Lago we miss him every day
And a voice inside keeps saying, “Our Marine has gone away!”
Last week, my nephew perished from a drowning accident on Lake Michigan. He put his life on the line by first saving his girlfriend from a riptide.
Unfortunately, both he and his grandfather ? my brother in lawlost their lives.
Ethan was 16 years old and counting the days until he could join the Marines. He kept a notebook describing all his Marine plans. He often spoke to me about Viet Nam and to two other Marine war veterans from Afghanistan and Korea.