Sgt Grit Newsletter - 05 DEC 2013

In this issue:
• WW2 Era Uniform
• Rock And Roll
• Old And Salty

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VMA 225 in DaNang

Sgt Grit,

I just finished reading some of the stories in your newsletter. They brought back many memories of my tour in Vietnam. I was in country in 1969-1970, Da Nang with VMA 225, A6 Intruder Squadron. I served as a member of the ordnance crew. It was hard work but a great bunch of guys, and lots of good memories. Here is a picture of the crew if you wish to share. I am the one 4th from the left.

Semper Fi,
Jerry Lynch

WW2 Era Uniform

Cpl Franz Grandson In WW2 Era Uniform

Sgt Grit,

Here is a picture of my Grandson in a WW2 era Uniform. It was passed down to me by my Aunt Ruth Hummel (Cpl. USMC) and her husband Paul Hummel (Pfc. USMC) who fought on Guadalcanal. When I enlisted in the Corps in 1966 they were very proud of me. At that time I didn't understand why they made a big deal of my enlistment. When I came home after 2 tours in Vietnam I understood!

My grandson likes seeing me in my Marine Corps League uniform. And likes to salute the American flag and say the pledge of allegiance when we raise it in the morning!

He makes me Proud!

Happy 238th Birthday!

Cpl Dave Franz '66-'72

Christmas Shipping

The Rest Is History

Dear Sgt Grit,

Have to agree with T Allen on his comments about returning from RVN and NOT being treated badly. When I returned in Jan 1971, I was dropped off at LAX by a bus. I walked in and checked in for my flight to St. Louis, MO. The flight was supposed to leave in around 15-20 min if I remember correctly. I told the lady my family was not aware I was back. She smiled and said to call my folks and the plane would wait. I did so, made it to the plane. The stewardess smiled and said "hello" to me as she closed the cabin door behind me. The rest is history.

Thank you for what you do at Sgt Grit. Happy holiday's to you and your staff.

J.W. Hornsey
Cpl RVN 70-71

USMC Black/Digital Desert Twill Jacket

Rock And Roll

Sgt. Grit,

I watched the new AmTrak the other night on TV and saw a wondrous machine that would have taken us ashore faster, dashing through the water at astounding speeds. This Expeditionary Fighting Vehicle (EFV) was designed to replace the aging AAV. Able to transport a full Marine rifle squad to shore from an amphibious assault ship beyond the horizon with three times the speed in water and about twice the armor of the AAV, and superior firepower as well.

In my day Boarding a LCVP, LCM or AmTrak, then going out to a position at least a mile from the beach we are to hit. The boats rock and roll with the waves, the smell of diesel fumes and exhaust and the vomit some less hardy souls have given up, moaning and retching as though they will bring their stomachs up next. Finally after about an hour or more, the flag goes down and the Coxswain/Driver pours the power on pushing the craft toward shore. In the first wave the machine gunners on the boat fire their machine guns adding to the smells, the troop leader in the craft gives the command to Lock and Load.

Soon the troop leader sees the beach, mortar shells are exploding on all sides of the boat, some men are casualties already and blood joins the vomit in the oily bilge water. The shore is right ahead, the men prepare to dash out/off both sides trying to get into a firing position when the bow is dropped. Here is where chaos reigns and where Marine leaders go about getting men up and moving forward, screaming; "Get off the Beach" as bullets smack into everything from boats to bodies. From getting into the LCVP to landing on the beach can take hours, a look into LCVP's during this time shows men praying, some watching the beach and some waiting anxiously to get ashore.

Keeping the LCVP's and LCM's moving unloading their troops and getting back to the ship, loading more men, then making the gauntlet again only this time instead of going back empty, the boat is full of wounded and dead, the Coxswain works hard checking his men to make sure they are not wounded or killed. Finally he gives the order to tie up to the boom and get refueled. He climbs the ladder, as tired as he is, grabs a sandwich and coffee with his crew, then back to the boat and start all over again until the beach is flooded with Marines and supplies. He might get some relief but it isn't common. He ends his day dirty, filthy, dead tired, maybe wounded, hungry but sometimes unable to eat he's so tired. I never call them Squids!

So now, when the flag goes down, the New Amtrak will be on the beach in a hurry. But are they in the hold, and when the flag goes down, they slip easily into the water, and head toward the beach? Not circling for hours?

GySgt. F. L. Rousseau, USMC Retired

Black Lined Jacket with White Eagle, Globe, and Anchor

Old And Salty

November 10, 2013 is 238th anniversary of the founding of the United States Marine Corps. Traditionally Marines gather on this day to celebrate the birth of their Corps. The baker at Uncle Bill's Dining Facility, (Mess Hall for you Old Corps types) FOB Spin Boldak, Afghanistan made a cake in honor of the occasion.

Marine Vets at FOB Spin Boldak

Spin Boldak is an Army base, but still there are Marines around - a bit old and salty, but once a Marine, always a Marine.

Cake Made For MC Birthday

In keeping with the finest Marine Corps Tradition the oldest Marine - days short of 66 - passed a piece of Birthday Cake to the youngest Marine - age 50 - thus passing the history and traditions of the Corps from one generation to the next.

Passing of cake between oldest and youngest Marine

Semper Fi,
Douglas Dickens

Selected The Best Of Everything

Having read the letter written by Patrick Verd, I thought I would chime in on my opinion of how I was fed while on active duty. At the time, the chow hall at MCRD San Diego was ran by Marines. I can't see why they would change this, as exposing recruits to civilians while in boot camp would be a very bad idea. My experience with chow halls were limited to MCRD, Camp Johnson and various facilities in Okinawa, where I spent the entirety of my enlistment after training. Camp Johnson was the only one that was run by civilian contractors and I have to say that I was not impressed. We had catfish with the heads still on for dinner two weeks running. I now adamantly refuse to eat catfish and never will.

After a while, the majority of us skipped morning chow and slept in, up until the contractors running the facility complained to MCSSS command. They got paid by the tray and few trays were moved in the mornings, so the order came down for everybody in MCSSS to fall out for formation and march to chow before the sun rose. Since the food was so bad, most of us got our trays, immediately dumped them and went back to the barracks for a nap before the regular formation. But, that was the only chow hall that I would have considered lacking. All the rest I frequented were ran by Marines and they were outstanding. There were a few Okinawan cooks at Camp Foster, but the rest of the staff were Marines, including the head cook. Sometimes, a PFC on mess duty couldn't figure out that you slice a grapefruit against the grain, not with it, but that was rare, and to be expected, really. When I was there, we had what you might call an ace in the hole. I worked with the wife of a certain LtCol Tallman. Col Tallman was the OIC of Food Services for all Marine bases on Okinawa. He told us non-rates that we must treat his wife with all due respect and NEVER upset her in any way. As long as she came home in a good mood, he would personally make sure our chow hall was the best of the best. If she complained about any one of us, we would pay. And so we treated Mrs. Tallman as a goddess. It was the habit of some Marines with cars to go to Kadena for lunch, as the Air Force chow was known to be so much better than anything Marines could do. The first time I did, I found this to be untrue. I had direct proof that Col. Tallman was the first to meet the supply planes and selected the best of everything for our chow hall. We had corned beef on Camp Foster one day, and the next I went to Kadena, where they were serving corned beef as well. The cuts at our chow hall were FAR superior. They didn't even compare.

Two other mess experiences stand out, however. On our birthday, they served steak and lobster at Camp Foster. We found it nearly impossible to get into the chow hall that we ate at daily because of all of the Staff and Officers that normally didn't eat there. We had things to do in uniform preparation for the celebrations and a three hour wait in line for chow was the kiss of death. Another time, I was on Bn driver duty and had to zoom all over the island. The closest chow hall that duties allowed was for officers. I was told to go through the back door and eat in the kitchen. No problem. As soon as I grabbed a plate, a Cpl told me to put it back, wash my hands and grab a plate from another pile that he indicated. Those other plates had been "specially prepared" for the officers. I know what they did, but won't mention it here. The Cpl also told me what was safe to eat, which is to say loogie-free. So maybe it was never a good idea to staff the chow halls that officers ate at with enlisted personnel. How they never figured it out is beyond me, but it was probably just that one chow hall at that point in time. I would hate to think that such shenanigans were wide spread and I would never engage in it. As for myself, I have absolutely no complaints (other than MCSSS), having packed on nearly 30 pounds of muscle on a scrawny frame while in boot camp. To this very day, I sorely miss sh-t on a shingle for breakfast.

Semper Fi to everyone out there and most especially to Marine Cooks. Your service did not go unappreciated, don't even think it.

LCpl Paul D. Raines
3451, assigned on open contract

Ready For Duty

Charles DeRoma In Infant Blues

Here is a picture of my grandson, Charles X. DeRoma, at 4-months old with his Blues on courtesty of Sgt Grit!

Semper Fi,
Dusty DeRoma

Get your infant Devil Pup outfitted in Blues at:

Dress Blues Baby 2 Piece Set

Dress Blues Baby 2 Piece Set

Memories Of MCAS El Toro

I have many fond memories of MCAS El Toro. I was stationed there from Nov. '56 thru Nov. '59. I served with MARS-37 as a 6442 Hydraulics Repairman MOS. I would like to know where MARS-37 was moved to. I participated in the Fleet Schooling (acceptance) programs for the FJ4B North American A/C and later for the F8U Crusader A/C, known as FIP's (Fleet Introduction Programs).

My wife was with me for the period aboard the NAMAR housing. We were both enjoying some of the best duty in the Corps for families. We couldn't believe it when we heard of its move/disbanding!

Does anyone know the story of MARS-37 and its removal and subsequently the Station itself?

Tom Harp USMC
A/Sgt 1953-1959

The Few. The Proud. The Marines.

By William K. Bauer, PhD

"The Few. The Proud. The Marines". I became aware that those six words are more than a slogan in a rather unusual way. It happened six months ago when, at the age of 72, I came to the realization that if I were ever going to repay the USMC for the tremendous educational and experiential gifts it had given me, I had better get started.

Like most inactive Marines, I had become, in the 45 years since the time of my separation from active duty, somewhat familiar with the fine, community-based work the Marine Corps League has been doing all across the country. Now, because of more specific interest, I wanted to know what the group was up to in the town where I lived. I made inquiries and I liked what I learned. I decided that the League was as good a place as any to start my repayment process, and I called the fellow in charge. He was thoughtful and welcoming and invited me to attend the unit's next meeting.

That's when it happened. As I pulled into the detachment's parking lot for the first time, an ear-to-ear smile spread across my face. I had never seen, assembled in one place, so many automobiles, vans and trucks with bumpers that featured Marine Corps license plates.

The experience intrigued me and the matter of conveyances prominently displaying the eagle, globe and anchor caused me to do some statistical research on the subject. Here's what I found out:

At the present time, the United States Marine Corps comprises, according to the Defense Manpower Data Center 13.9 percent of the five branches of the United States Armed Forces. However, in my home state of Florida, the Department of Safety and Motor Vehicles reports that armed forces license plate registrations for the "Sunshine State" 27,000 registrations for the Army, 21,000 registrations for the Air Force, 20,000 registrations for the Navy, 8,000 registrations for the Coast Guard and a whopping 42,000 registrations for the United States Marine Corps.

I think it's interesting to note that the data shows that in the state of Florida, Marine Corps license plate registrations are greater in number than a combination of the Army and the Coast Guard or the Air Force and the Navy, combined.

The circumstance is, indeed, interesting but the findings are not unusual. This evidence of a state-wide aggregation of outnumbered "leathernecks" outshining those of greater proportion is, according to those who chronicle the feats of the United States Marines, not in the least untypical and it only takes, as an example, a consideration of the latest Armed Forces Boxing Championships or, on a much larger scale, battles like Belleau Wood, the Chosin Reservoir or Fallujah to appreciate their common occurrence.

How is it, then, that this relatively small fighting force can do so well when the odds are so often stacked against it? I think the answer lies in another of the six words found at the beginning of this piece.

"Pride" is the intangible quality that receives consistent if not specific reference in the Marine Corps recruitment materials when they say that "the pride of becoming a Marine is only enhanced by the fulfillment of purpose that comes from serving as one", and that "service in the Marine Corps is not only a duty but a distinction, as those who possess honor are held in honor." Marines are taught to recognize that distinction as recruits and they demonstrate that well-earned pride throughout their Marine Corps careers and in many, many cases, for the rest of their lives.

Thus, it's entirely proper that my fellow detachment members and I should, when it comes to license plates as adornments, respect the definitions of the words "few" and "pride" proffered in Webster's Dictionary. They are, respectively: "a small, select group;" and "proper respect for oneself; a sense of one's own dignity or worth; being the best of a class or group."

These statements of meaning apply, you see, because we are and always will be - Marines.

Marine In 1914

Sgt Grit,

I just read your newsletter of the oldest living Marine at 105. I wish this true Devil Dog a longer and healthy life. Men such as him give us younger Marines more backbone, so we do not let them down. My best wishes to him and his family.

I had the opportunity to know an older Marine who I believe might have been one of the oldest Marines also. Bob Newbury was a PFC who was given the choice of joining the Marines or go to jail. He became a Marine in 1914 and served at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. After his enlistment, with his life changed forever, he became a conductor for the railroad and purchased a pocket watch for his duties. He later became employed by the Cleveland Electric Illuminating Company where he and my father met and became friends. After Bob's retirement, he was married twice and widowed twice. At the age of 103, he was still out distancing the nurses at the retirement home in which he lived. Sadly, he passed away soon after his 103rd birthday, but was sent off with a detachment of the Marine Corps League. Till the day that he died, he was always proud that he was a Marine. I visit his grave as much as possible and make sure that his grave and the graves of both of his wives are maintained.

My father who was his closest friend received his possessions since Bob had no children or surviving family. My father gave me Bob's railroad watch because he thought that Bob would like it to go to another Marine. When I pass on, everyone knows that the watch is to go to my son, who is currently serving.

One note about that watch, it is still working perfectly and keeps better time than my current watches.

Mark Sasak
Sgt USAF: '82 -'86
(Then Joined the Real Military)
SGT USMC '87 - '94

Remember The Influence

Al, (LCPL Al Kramer),

Sgt. Grit forwarded your e-mail to me. Thank you Sgt. Grit and thank you Al for your kind words. I think most all Drill Instructors are haunted by the memory of their Recruits and wonder what happened to them. They are concerned about whether they made a positive or negative influence in their lives. Most of us are left to remember the influence our Drill Instructors and the Platoon Commander had on our lives, and hope we had a similar effect on our Recruits.

If you were next to the Airport when you were in boot Camp, you were probably in either L Company (the Quonset huts I was in during the summer of 1967), or the ones used by K Company in 1970 and 1971 (the ones still standing) when I had the privilege to try to measure up to the standards set by my Drill Instructors.

I know I was far more successful in my life after the L Company Quonset Huts than I was before and I hope my Recruits had the same experience in their lives.

Unfortunately I did not have the privilege of knowing Gy/Sgt. Sentinella, SSgt. John Butler or Sgt. Thomas, but it certainly sounds like I would have been proud to have served with them.

Nick Hayes
S/Sgt. C. N. Hayes 2340319
08 May 1967 - 09 July 1971
RVN - Jan. 1969 - Jan. 1970

3rd Recon Bn

New Chow Hall Thanksgiving 1968 Quang Tri

3rd Recon Mess Tent 1968 Quang Tri

Upon arrival to my destination, May 1968, 3rdRecon Bn, Quang Tri Province, I found the battalion still in tents on the ground. Food wasn't great, but we did have warm food. Below are before and after photos of our chow halls. By the way, serving with 3rd Recon was a great honor for me and I've been proud to be a part of such an outstanding Marine Bn.

Semper Fi to all!

Sgt R.C (Whitey) Glanton
May 1968 - June 1969

U.S. Marine With A Rifle

Marine with a rifle

This week's most popular post on the Sgt Grit Facebook page featured an image of SgtMaj Ray V. Wilburn (Ret) holding an M1 Garand. The text around the image says "No Matter His Age... Never Under Estimate the Capabilities of a U.S. Marine with a Rifle!

Below are some of the comments we received in reference to this post.

Dave NaDell - Nothing more deadly than a Marine and his Rifle... unless he has a radio to contact the rest of the combined arms...

Joe Brenchick - Bet I can still shoot expert with a M14, M16 or 1911 and can get on target with a M79 or M203...

Eric Howard - I really get a kick out of goin' to the range, have some civilian who just bought an AR and can't hit the target, sight it in for them most of the time with 6 rounds or less and they they ask "where did you learn to do that"?... Parris Island.

Lynn Ferris - Age & Treachery can beat Youth and Skill anytime... lol.

Charles Stalling - M-1 Garand, got my first "sharp shooter" award with that one. great weapon, and love the "clinggg" when the clip is ejected. That's right Marines, clips are fed from the top and magazines from the bottom.

Timothy O Nichols Jr - at least we Marines know how a gun is suppose to be handled and used; not like these NRA idiots.

Al Perret - Gun? Did you ever hear the one about this is my rifle this is my gun. One is for shooting the other is for fun. Timothy you must have got your azz kicked a lot in boot camp by the DI's.

Read more of the 150 comments left made about this post on the Sgt Grit Facebook Page.


Submitted by: MARINE Jim McCallum (the ole gunny)
Vol. # 10, #2 - #3

The Story of the Rock Ceremony

I received the following bit of history as part of the Pierce Count MCL Detachment #504's Newsletter and I thought it was pertinent to events in our history. Plus, I also thought that many MARINES have never heard of this incident happening because, it happened long before their time. I contacted MARINE George Hilbish the Commandant of Detachment #504 in Tacoma Wash, and asked for permission to present it to the readers of this Newsletter. I want to THANK HIM for granting me that privilege. These are the facts as they were stated.

On December 10, 1946, six Curtis Commando R5C transport Aircraft carrying more then 200 MARINES left San Diego en route to Seattle. The aircraft flew entirely on instruments (IFR) at an altitude of 9,000 feet and encountered heavy weather over Southwest Washington. Four turned back, and landed at the Portland Airport, one managed to land in Seattle, but the sixth plane carrying 32 MARINES vanished.

Search and rescue aircraft, hampered by continuing bad weather were unable to fly for a week and ground searches proved fruitless. After two weeks, the search for the missing aircraft was suspended. The Navy determined the the aircraft was blown off course by the high winds and flew into the side of Mount Rainier (14,410 feet high).

In July 1947, Assistant Chief Ranger Bill Butler with the Mount Rainier National Park spotted parts of the wreckage on a South Tahoma Glacier. Search parties examined the debris and confirmed that it came from the missing aircraft. Four weeks later the bodies were found high on the face of the glacier, but extremely hazardous conditions forced authorities to abandon plans to remove them for burial.

The 32 MARINES remain entombed forever on Mount Rainier. In 1946, it was the worst accident, in numbers killed aboard an aircraft in United States aviation history and remains Mount Rainier's greatest tragedy.

For many subsequent years, in deference to parents and other survivors of the victims, most of South Tahoma Glacier was off limits to travel and exploration. Point Success, an adjacent mountain, towering above the remains, was an appropriate location for a marker. In memory of those MARINES, a large rock memorial with a brass plate listing the names of those who perished was erected and placed at Round Pass of Point Success, on the west side of the road within sight of the glacier.

Due to the constant shifting and washing away of the roads, it was no longer safe to pay tribute/homage to our 32 MARINES from their memorial site at Round Pass. The site looked directly into the glacier where our 32 MARINES were entombed. The Mount Rainier Detachment of the Marine Corps League in Enumclaw, Washington along with the City of Enumclaw, duplicated the memorial rock with the brass plate and installed it at Veterans Park in Enumclaw. The new site is on State Route #410 leading up to Mount Rainier.

It should be noted the State Route #410 has been renamed the "All American Highway" and is the terminus of the Purple Heart Trail across America by the Military Order of the Purple Heart of the United States of America.

Since the Mount Rainier Marine Corps Leauge was deactivated in 2001, the Pierce County Detachment No. 504 is honored to take over and conduct the ceremony for our 32 MARINES.

God Bless our fallen Brothers.

When The Old DI Emerged

As a life-long believer in personal responsibility, decided that even as a field grade officer that if I was going to get kilt in a MVA (Motor Vehicle Accident), it was going to be because of something I did (or failed to do?) and not the fault of a Lance Corporal who was still using zit cream as after-shave. In other words, if I was in a Marine Corps vehicle, tactical or non-tactical, the Major was going to be driving. This occasionally caused some consternation among my brother officers, who would have questions like "how do you get the vehicle washed (or fueled, or ???)"... you know, that is sort of manual labor, which in garrison, is somehow deemed not fitting for officers... and somehow, the critics never quite made the connection between the fact that they had driven themselves into work that day... probably in a car that they had hand-waxed in the driveway of their quarters the preceding weekend... at any rate, at the Stumps in the mid-70's, duty occasionally called somewhere off base, which meant a vehicle from the Commercial Motor Pool (10th Street, still there last time I flew Google Earth over the base)... The C-Pool had quite a mixture of civilian vehicles (including the CG's sedan)... pickups, flat bed cargo trucks, cattle cars, MP vehicles (Plymouth Belvederes... four-door sedans, with a 318 Mopar)... and for some odd reason, exactly one Ford... a two-door small sedan, Marine Corps green on bottom, white on top... can't say for sure but it was either a Pinto or a Maverick... and usually available, as it was just not cool for trips off base, when you could reserve a sedan, sit in the back and look important while PFC Johnny 35XX drove. It was my first choice every time, for trips to Pendleton, LA, the San Bernardino County prison (to deliver pothead/dopers BCD papers... always timed to be there at lunch in the guards' mess... prison guards eat well... very well... and they like Marines... "what would you like, sir? T-bone be OK?, how would you like that? etc.")... and the reason for the Pinto/Maverick? It's a long way from the Stumps to anywhere... and this was the ONLY vehicle in the C-Pool that had a radio... AM only, to be sure, but a radio nonetheless. At the time, the radio was a 'delete option' meaning that if the buyer didn't specify "no radio"... the car came with one.

Used to eat lunch with the C-Pool Maintenance Officer... good bud, since we were both in the grease monkey/machine side of things, and he was a CWO-3 with 30 years or so. This particular day, Valentine (that was his first name, middle name "Patsy", from NY, every bit of "four foot, fourteen" tall, and this day he was obviously pizzed... When I asked him who had pee'd in his Wheaties, he told me that he had just put some brand new sedans in service, and the MP's had been running some sort of scenario where they bailed out of the car, crouched behind the front fender, and shot at a bad guy target... and they had put three .45 cal rounds into the hood of one of his brand new sedans.

Speaking of MP's... as the Equipment Allowance Pool honcho, I finagled permanent dispatch of the one International Harvester Travelall in the C-pool, with which I roamed the desert, keeping an eye on our loaner equipment, dealing with whatever came up, and would leave the EAP pool around sunrise with a tool box, a few common parts (e.g. point sets for M-151 jeeps) and a five-gallon can of water. The Travelall was stick shift, four-wheel drive, roomy, and would go about anywhere. It did, however, have one not so good characteristic... at low speeds, or at a stop sign, it would vapor lock. This was one of the reasons for the water can... water run on the steel fuel line that ran up the front of the block would cure the vapor lock, and off we'd go... again. It had been a long day, and for whatever reason, I had come downhill on 10th street, stopping at Del Valle Road... where ol' Betsy decided to vapor lock. The water can was near empty, and as I was blocking traffic (if there was any...) I got out, and by myself, pushed the thing around the corner and onto the shoulder. There was a water point for filling water buffaloes maybe 75 yards or so up the hill, so can in hand, off I trudged. As I trudged back through the sand with 45 pounds or so of water can in one hand, I observed that one of the Provost Marshall's finest, in his compulsion to protect and serve, had noted my errant vehicle, apparently abandoned along the road, with the hood up, and a door open... then he saw me... in utilities, carrying a can for reasons unfathomable to him, and looking my way, gave the 'come here' gesture with the crooking of his forefinger... as only an imperious badge-heavy wanna-be prick can. As I arrived at his position (still on the blacktop, lest he get dust on his spit-shine), he somehow perceived that this elderly (40) person, wearing green cammies, had, of all things, an oak leaf on each collar. His attitude changed, fairly quickly, when the old DI emerged, with 'get your f-ckin' heels together, now, Schmuckatelli!... we then had a gentlemanly discussion about his position in the world, the niceties of generally treating others with respect, etc. He must have brought the contact up at the end of his shift, because I got a phone call from the Assistant PMO the next day... MP's have a tough job... and sometimes they make it tougher than it has to be... and before all you LEOs get on my case, please be advised that I work with our local SO's nearly every day... usually by getting traffic off their backs while they work MVA's... Firefighters do stuff besides cats in trees... and we got radios...


Christmas Is Coming

How about some Christmas stories. In country, getting home on leave, getting stranded, remote locations etc...

U Suckers Missed Christmas!

Sgt Grit


"A Marine is a Marine. I set that policy two weeks ago. There's no such thing as a former Marine. You're a Marine, just in a different uniform and you're in a different phase of your life. But you'll always be a Marine because you went to MCRD Parris Island, MCRD San Diego or the hills of Quantico and Camp Pendleton. Again, there's no such thing as a former Marine."
--General James F. Amos, 35th Commandant of the Marine Corps

"You can take a man out of the Marine Corps; you will never take the Marine Corps out of the man."

"I come in peace. I didn't bring artillery. But I am pleading with you with tears in my eyes: If you screw with me, I'll kill you all."
--Marine General James Mattis, to Iraqi tribal leaders

"How prone all human institutions have been to decay; how subject the best-formed and most wisely organized governments have been to lose their check and totally dissolve; how difficult it has been for mankind, in all ages and countries, to preserve their dearest rights and best privileges, impelled as it were by an irresistible fate of despotism."
--James Monroe, 1788

"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But the Marines don't have that problem."
--Ronald Reagan, President of the United States 1985

"Only a virtuous people are capable of freedom. As nations become corrupt and vicious, they have more need of masters."
--Benjamin Franklin, 1787

"They told (us) to open up the Embassy, or "we'll blow you away." And then they looked up and saw the Marines on the roof with these really big guns, and they said in Somali, "Igaralli ahow," which means "Excuse me, I didn't mean it, my mistake"."
--Karen Aquilar, in the U.S. Embassy; Mogadishu, Somalia, 1991

"Flip flop, hippity hop, mob stop!"

"You people are a herd, I would call you a mob, but a mob has a leader."

"Road guards out"

"House mouse to the duty hut!"

"Who is that tapping on my door? I can't hear you t-rd."

Fair winds and following seas.
Sgt Grit

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Oklahoma City, OK 73179
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