JULY 4TH IS FOR CELEBRATING OUR FREEDOM!!

July 4 fell on a Monday in 1955.  Both stores in the Southwest Mississippi crossroads community of Caseyville were open regular hours – sun-up until sun-down.  Although there were no fireworks, locals felt a tinge of patriotism – they were sending one of their own off to serve in the military.

Shortly after his thumb went in the air along the dusty gravel road, a passer-by picked him up for the 15-mile jaunt to the intersection of paved U.S. Highway 51.  Three kindly passers-by, 60 miles, and three hours later, he reached the Marine Corps Reserve Center in Jackson, Mississippi.

After sleeping on the Reserve Center floor overnight, he was sworn into the Marine Corps and given a one-way train ticket to Yemassee, South Carolina – dropping off point for Parris Island – and all things civilian.

GRADUATION DAY FROM PARRIS ISLAND -- SEPTEMBER, 1955

Stateside postings after Parris Island would include Camp Lejeune, Great Lakes Naval Station, San Diego, Camp Pendleton, El Toro and Cherry Point.

Fast forward to 1959.  July 4 came on a Saturday.  By Friday, the Caseyville boy was all set to leave Marine Corps Air Station, Cherry Point, North Carolina.  However, after serving four years at the convenience of the government, it appeared he would serve a day at the convenience of the Provost Marshall -- who did not work on Saturdays.

But the Provost had a big heart – those in line for discharge could jump-start civilian life over the weekend.  The Caseyville-bound 1954 pink & crème, two-door Ford hardtop was on Highway 70 in a heartbeat.  Memories have faded, but he probably passed through Greensboro, North Carolina about midnight.

By daybreak, the Ford wasn’t out of gas, but the driver was.  Fortunately, a hitch-hiking Sailor had come aboard.  He had dozed through the mountains and into Tennessee, but was roused up under the pretense of seeing Rock City -- and drive the Ford on to Jackson, Mississippi while the owner dozed.

Just under 1000 miles and 24 hours later -- the Sailor had caught another ride and continued westward – the Caseyville boy was home again.

The journey afforded him more than ample time to reflect on previous July 4 holidays.

July 4, 1956 found him recently promoted from marksmanship instructor to butt NCO at Marine Corps Schools, Quantico, Virginia.  I’m glad you asked, it involves a Marine Corps proverb, “Those who fire at targets must also pull targets for other shooters while they fire.” 

Targets are positioned in areas known as butts, strategically placed behind huge earthen mounds.  Shooters prone to fire into those earthen mounds are known as short-timers.  Butts are insufferably hot or cold, never in between.

July 4, 1957 found the Caseyville boy in Tokyo Bay, aboard the troopship, USS General A. E. Anderson.  Over the 18-day journey across the Pacific, the commanding officer of the Anderson was noticeably short on hospitality. 

Probably more from patriotism than kindness, he made a sizeable gesture on July 4, “You are now over the exact spot in Tokyo Bay where the USS Missouri anchored for surrender ceremonies ending World War II.”  Sixty years later, that would have been a selfie-feast!

The Navy did not ask Marines to complete comment cards, but they were impressed to be shown that watery mark of historicity.  In his memoir, the captain probably wrote, “Those Marines actually believed that’s where the Missouri anchored.”

July 4, 1958 found our guy at Atsugi Naval Air Station, a few miles inland from Yokohama and Yokosuka.  In the interim, he had made amphibious landing drills on Okinawa and set up communications centers at three locations in the Philippines.

Aboard the USS Princeton, he had turned from pollywog to shellback by crossing the Equator.  He had participated in a 7^th Fleet show of force off Borneo, Java and Sumatra, made a port call at Singapore, and assisted in flood relief at Ceylon (Sri Lanka).

If there is a bottom line to this piece, it is that the Caseyville boy is blessed and fortunate – he couldn’t have volunteered to serve his country in a more tranquil four years. 

He hasn’t looked at that as a pass to forget other peacetime veterans or those who served during World Wars I and II, Korea, Vietnam and the Gulf Wars to protect the freedom granted us on July 4, 1776.

That’s a primary reason he enjoys writing veterans articles for the Greensboro News & Record.  Join him in celebrating our nation’s birthday to the fullest on July 4, 2017! 

                  

PARRIS ISLAND PRIMER

Reading and writing about the Marine Corps is a passion for me.  Without argument, my brother joining the Marine Corps when I was six years old had lots to do with that passion.

PLATOON 76 EXCELLED ON THE RIFLE RANGE -- MANY OF US
BECAME RIFLE COACHES AT QUANTICO, INSTRUCTING MARINE
CORPS OFFICERS HOW TO FIRE THE M-1, BAR & COLT 45

I can’t say that I learned to read by reading about the Marine Corps, but reading about the Marine Corps was a top priority after I did learn to read.

Without argument, I learned a lot about writing by writing about the Marine Corps.  There should be an adage -- you learn to write best by writing from your heart. 

Even though I’ve come close to heart-writing on articles over the years pertaining to Memorial Days, Veterans Days and Marine Corps Birthdays, I’ve never really, really written about the Marine Corps experience from the depth of my heart.

Until now.

That hesitancy has to do with advice given me by a pastor-friend of years past, “Life comes down to three major choices – your vocation, your partner for life, and alignment for your after-life.”

He was as wise as indicated by the stream of initials that trailed his name.  However, either from a sheltered background or academic naiveté, he failed to account for guys at my juncture, who were incapable of making such heady choices.

While family and a covey of earlier pastors helped me along with my after-life alignment, only the Marine Corps could have conditioned me to make sound choices in the areas of choosing a vocation and a partner for life.

Good grades came easy for me, even though I goofed off in high school and my first two years of college.  Parris Island was pre-destined to be my first real test.

I suspect a good number of family and friends seriously doubted I had the heart to make it through boot camp, a premise strongly articulated by my drill instructor, just after passing the point of no return (Yemassee, SC).

To that point, the piece of gum I swallowed after the DI expressed his strong disfavor, was the last piece of gum that ever entered my mouth. 

Records say I reported to Parris Island July 7, 1955 and departed September 23, 1955, seventy-seven days inclusively. 

GRADUATION DAY @ PARRIS ISLAND, SEPT1955
FELLOW GRADUATE FROM CO-LIN, JIMMIE RODGERS
BEING AWARDED, HARRY THETFORD IS NEXT

Stated another way, for seventy-six evenings, I thanked the Lord for another day of survival.  And, wondered to myself if I had the heart to make it one more day.  And, on the seventy-seventh evening, I thanked Him for life itself. 

While “goofing off” in college was a skill set for me, Parris Island Drill Instructors deleted that from my persona in microseconds.  Instantaneously, I tried to do my very best in every respect of boot camp.  I wanted to be the first to fall in for formation.  I’m a slow eater, but was never, never last out of the chow hall.

I learned how and when to respond vociferously, and how and when to remain very quiet.  I tried to jump higher, run faster, last longer, shoot better, memorize faster, and spit-shine glossier than all others. 

I learned this was a lost cause unless I helped all others jump, run, last, shoot, memorize and spit-shine as well as I could.

I could say it was OK for sand fleas to chew on me, since that meant buddies standing nearby were being spared.  I could, but that would be a huge lie.   

If the Marine Corps wanted to teach me something, I wanted to learn it.  Again, a moot point unless all others learned it as well.

Did this make me the best man of the sixty-nine graduating Recruits in our platoon?  Far from it!  Sixty-eight others had the same aspirations.  Most of these aspirations were drill instructor-inspired, but a covert group always took up any slack.

That “covert group” persona has probably been around since 1^ST LT Pressley O’Bannon put the initial unit of Marines together in 1775.  It exemplifies the Marine Corps.  

 

After boot camp, we learned the Marine Corps already had a term for this covert group mentality that no Marine should be left behind.  They called it, “Esprit de Corps”!

In today’s vernacular, the Marine Corps left me with an attitude.  While I never had an eagle, globe and anchor tattooed on my arm, the same three items tattooed on my heart are holding up quite well.      

It isn’t fair to say that everything I’ve learned, I learned from the Marine Corps.  There is no question that everything I’ve learned has been brought into sharper focus by my Marine Corps experience.  

This isn’t a puff piece for the Corps, and no apologies are offered for those from other services with equal or better experiences – just words from one Marine’s heart –  well over a half century after the fact.

Every Marine has a story.  I recently golfed with a retired Army veteran with thirty years’ service.  He noticed my surprise to see his car loaded out with Marine Corps decals and paraphernalia. 

He explained, “I spent a hitch in the Marines before I went Army!”  On the way home that afternoon, I knew it was time to write my Marine Corps heart article.  

God bless America, and God bless the USMC, it’s never been a greater time to be “One of the Few!”