Here we go again.
Sgt. Spoon.
Before I get to that, let me recap my amusement.
I have really enjoyed reading this issue of the newsletter. This one has beeen extremely enlightening, amusing and inspirational.
An "Outstanding," and "Well Done!", to all!
And now… Sgt. Spoon.
Most Marines have a ligitimate bitch or gripe: "A bitchin' Marine is a happy Marine," or so goes the old saw.
Unfortunately, I cannot agree with the view held by Sgt. Spoon. "Combat Marine" or not, we all earned the Eagle, Globe and Anchor for that inevitable day we were required to obey the lawful order of "those apppointed over us."
The privilege to serve in combat is not the measure of a Marine. On the contrary; serving in whatever capacity the Commandant and HQMC deems necessary to the "needs of the Corps" is our first duty.
General Order No. 6 that states: "To receive, obey, and pass on to the sentry who relieves me, all orders of the commanding officer, officer of the day, and officers and noncommissioned officers of the guard only."
Although this seems slightly out of context, it would seem to illustrate the point that we, as enlisted men, (especially NCO's), are to serve in whatever lawful capacity our commissioned officers (so pronounced by an official act of our U.S. Congress) deem necessary for the good of the Corps, and, by implied extension, the good of the United States of America Armed Forces.
(Whew!)
U.S. Marines are never far from the matrix of any intervention worldwide. Disaster, presence, conflict; we have had a "show the colors" role in whatever capacity our leaders have deemed necessary to move our ready personnel.
And the word "combat" is always ever-present, instilled by Hollywood from the time most of us were able to afford the price of a ticket to the cinema, or now, ordered on-line.
It's not a shame that some Marines cannot wear wear the title of "combat Marine."
By the same title, it's not a shame that some people cannot earn the title. "United States Marine."
Every swinging dick (apologies) who has worn the title "United States Marine" has won that hard-claimed title by serving in some capacity or another in assisting the '03 in the field. The adage "every Marine is a rifleman," is not a saying promulgated around an idle water fountain.
It was forged from being overrun by insurgents attacking in the dead of night, gutting and killing each and every man who did not know how to load, fire and squeeze off every round from his personal bullet-launcher. If a piece wasn't available, each Marine fought with an e-tool, spoon, fork, pencil, teeth and fingernails.
And for those in the rear? Don't be alarmed if there wasn't a "Remington Raider" who didn't shed a tear from a grunt he personally knew that hadn't come once in awhile to straighten out a pay issue, or to either pick-up, or turn-in, leave papers. Sometimes, there were tokens left from a grateful Lance-coolie to an office pogue who had helped expedite an item for the aforesaid grunt.
And what about the grunts who were always on a conbat-ready floating BLT? What about those conbat-ready Airwingers who never flew? What about those who wiped their brows and said, "There but for the grace of God goes me?" And what about those guards who stood their post in the dead of night at a motor pool post in the mountains, or a supply dump in the middle of an afternoon desert, wondering if the rest of the world knew, or ever gave a rat's patootie?
What about those who came home but never really came back? What about those who went and just had a "walk in the sun?"
Human nature is always such that as the older we get, the more we say, "When I was young…"
It's always, "I wish I had done more…"
Sgt. Spoon, you have had the utmost honor in the world. You were, and still are, a United States Marine. You have the honor of representing and telling the story of those untold souls who no longer have the capacity, or inability, to say what the rest of the world will never know.
"I was a United States Marine."
That alone is honor enough.