You don’t have to be a one-man Army to be a Marine. You just have to be an honest, clean living young man who believes in himself and his obligation to his country. Once you are sworn in, the Marine Corps takes care of the rest. At times, you may wonder just what ideals you had before you joined up, and what it had been like to have a good clean thinking mind. Not that you will be degraded. Quite the contrary. It can best be explained by saying that you see a different side of life. You see a cross-section of what makes the U.S. a democracy, the right to think, act, and speak as you please.
Draft_Board_Registration_CertificateAfter walking by a building with a large poster reading “We Want You”, I felt guilty. I made my mind up to go in and see just who wanted me. I was 1A in the draft but the Army had not wanted me so far, and I had heard very little about any other branch of the service because I was a peace loving civilian and was proud of my white shirt and neck tie. After entering the building, I saw another sign saying that “they wanted me on the third floor, room 329”. Far be it from me to waste energy and walk up two flights of stairs, the elevator it was. The office door was right across from the elevator. There was that poster again with the picture of the kind old man in a beard.“Good morning,” half-shouted a rather robust man behind the desk in the office.
My knees knocked at the sudden shock. He was outfitted in a beautiful two toned ensemble. Above his heart many rainbow colored ribbons blazed on the blue background. It was a beauty. I pictured myself dressed up like that walking up and down the streets of my hometown. The gentleman who sat behind the desk (I later found out he was no gentleman but a Sergeant) asked me what he could do for me this fine day. I stuttered that I would like to see some folders about who “wanted me”.
It must have been a great surprise to him because he flushed and began talking a blue streak. The way his chest swelled out with pride as he talked made me look at him spell-bound. He spoke in a manner such as a salesman would use selling vacuum cleaners.
The Sergeant told me what being a Marine meant to him, and he said I too could join in on the glory. Where would I be stationed? might I ask. Why it was simple, practically anyplace I wanted. If I wanted to really get into the fighting, that too could be arranged. He explained that in no time I could be a Sergeant and later even a Captain. I would have a lot of furloughs, and in the meantime I would be doing my part. People would sigh as I passed them dressed in my “blues”.
It sounded great. I could be like superman. I had to go into something sooner or later. Gee, that uniform looked sharp.
He suggested that I make out an application. I did it immediately.
Next came a physical. They examined me from head to toe and then some. I felt like a guinea pig when they got through looking at me and feeling of my anatomy, etc. The doctor said I had passed and could proudly say I had passed one of the famously rigid exams of the Marine Corps. Of course, that made me feel great to think that I had accomplished that which so many before me had failed.
Sergeant X asked me when I wanted to be sworn in and leave for basic training.
Without hesitation I said, “two weeks”.
It must have been a strange request because the Sergeant was taken aback.
“That’s fine, son. Report here at 7:00 AM two weeks hence,” he said after a moment.
As I walked out the door I realized that I had done it. My future was in the hands of the United States Marine Corps. I rushed home to tell everyone what I had done and take care of some unfinished business.
Two weeks later, the alarm went off at 5:00 AM. I rose tired and dazed but today was D-day in my life. I had to be at the Recruiting Station at 7:00. I bade my folks goodbye and told them I would be home on furlough soon and that I would write regularly and let them know how I was getting along. My folks were swell as I left them at the doorway and they didn’t exhibit one of those tearful farewells that I hated so much. I was off on the greatest adventure of my life. A life that was altogether different than I had ever dreamed of.
When I arrived at the recruiting office, with my small overnight bag, I saw about 30 other fellows standing around waiting. We chatted about where we were from, etc. until the Sergeant came and bade us “Good Morning” and “Enter, future Marines”. My, it felt great to be called a Marine. We entered and sat on benches and waited for the swearing-in ceremony. All of the Marines in the office were friendly. They chatted with us, about the countries they had been to, and the campaigns they had been in. We were gullible and took it all in. I pictured myself doing the same thing.
About an hour later, a Marine told us to enter the next office where the major would swear us in. We thought we looked snappy as we filed into his office, chests out and chins in. He greeted us in a very informal manner, and as we raised our hands and repeated what he said, I could just picture myself a Major and how proud I would make everyone of me.
As I spoke my name at the end of the oath, I suddenly realized it was too late to change my mind. I was officially a Marine for a duration of six months. Here I was on Uncle Sam’s payroll. I wouldn’t be wearing civilian clothes for a long time.
The Sergeant eyed us as we filed past him to the benches in his office. He looked different. The friendly smile on his face had changed to a sneer. I suddenly became conscious of the fact that I was a lowly private and would be called a “boot”. A boot is the term given all Marines while in basic training at boot camp. The only thing lower than a boot is a grass snake.
That once-pleasant gentleman barked out for us to stand at attention, put out those damn butts, and not to smoke unless the “Smoking” lamp was on. That was a new one for me, but I figured they must light a lamp every time it is permissible to smoke. We didn’t see any ashtrays around so we all proceeded to stamp them out on the floor.
That was the last straw. He called us names that I had never heard used before. I was getting my first taste of the Marine Corps vocabulary, which was very different from that I had used in college written by Webster.
We were ordered to get swabs, and start swabbing the deck. I knew a ship had a deck but a deck in an office in a Post Office Building was something new to me. One fellow who I shall call Frank inquired what was a swab, and where was the deck? That was the wrong approach. He paid dearly for his ignorance by doing the job himself. The Sergeant called him a landlubber and explained in no printable terms that a mop was a swab and the floor would from now on be referred to as a deck and we had better not slip-up. Poor Frank did his job, but we all felt sorry that he had been the goat. I could have asked the same question, but he had beaten me to it and saved me from a certain backache.
We still had a few details to attend to, such as being fingerprinted, etc. But in no time at all we were told to get our gear and wait outside in two ranks. While we were waiting, one of my comrades gave us the confidential information that we were going to get on a train with sleepers and go to San Diego. Word spread like wildfire. I had always wanted to go to the west coast, so that suited me fine.
California. The very thought of it thrilled me.
The Sergeant came out and called us to attention while he held roll call. Frank had his hat on at the time and he was told to uncover his head in no uncertain terms. We were all present, but I think several of us wished we could run back down the corridor and back home where there was someone that loved us.
He read our orders and told us that one of us would be in charge of the detail. That man would be held responsible for the safe delivery of 26 men to an undisclosed Marine Corps base. He explained that the man in charge would be sentenced to the brig if we missed train connections and were late, or if all the men did not reach our destination. He would be given full authority to lead the men, but one slip or any conduct not a credit to the Corps would receive a court martial.
Train_Roster_USMC_NYC-to-NewportIt was a job none of us wanted, so I almost fell through the floor when he called out my name and told me to come forward and take over the detail. Didn’t I have troubles enough keeping myself straight without having to look after 26 men? Why did I have to be chosen for this ordeal? I received an envelope with my orders and lunch tickets and train tickets and I was told that we would be met by someone when we got off the train.
It was a sad looking detail in many respects that I led down the street to the railroad station. I knew though, that Mom would be proud to know that I had been selected to lead the men and that I was well on my way to being an officer.
Oh, how wrong I was!
I called my 26 man-detail to a halt at the station and told them to wait while I found out what train we were going to take and where we were going. I left them and wandered off to the information booth. There I opened the envelope the Sergeant had given me and saw that we were bound for Parris Island, South Carolina. My hopes of seeing sunny California were blasted. Here we were going down south to some island. I found out what track we would go on, and seeing that the train was due to leave in 15 minutes, I hurried back to my comrades.
Standing where I had left them were three fellows. Three out of 26, and the train was leaving in 15 minutes! The four of us set out to round up our comrades. We found them everyplace from the soda fountain to the men’s room. By the time the roundup was complete and all hands were present, it was one minute to train time. I led the 100-yard dash to our train. I think I lost 20 years of growth in those 15-minutes before train time, but we made it and were off to the sunny South.
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