On the Eve of the USMC's 230th Birthday

I was originally not going to comment on this subject at all, but I made the mistake of finding this Slate article and the book the author of that article wrote. And that opened all sorts of old wounds and reminded me of that hollow I have yet to fill again with some other crazy dream.

There's something that fundamentally connects me to the Marines. And the sorrow that I can't be part of that culture really tears at me. The fact that they don't want strong-willed, independent, motivated people in their organization for the stupid fact that they can't run fast enough is beyond me. I remember that, when I was sitting in sick bay after I fell out of the run, the corpsman dabbing iodine on my knee said to me, "I've seen you out there. You're one motivated candidate." Motivated. The highest compliment you can give to a Marine-in-training. And then they sent me home. Their loss.

I remember, as a toddler, getting up at 0430 in the morning so I could eat breakfast with Dad before he left for work. I remember helping him lace his boots up before he left. I remember missing him so much when he was deployed for six months out of every year, leaving in June and returning in December. During the first Gulf War, I remember he didn't return home until April 17 because they sent his replacement squadron to Iraq. Dad later told me that if that conflict had dragged out any longer he would have been sent there as well.



A couple years ago I got the wild idea that I needed to try this Marine Officer thing out. And spent the next fifteen months of my life devoted to that one thing. Obviously, it wasn't enough in their book. I wouldn't say that I'm really bitter about it; I have a lot to thank the Marine Corps for. Without the Marine Corps, I wouldn't be the good Catholic girl I am today (OK, you can blame my friend Charles for that too). Without the Marine Corps, I would be struggling with financing school. Without the Marine Corps, I wouldn't be in such great shape (which I've let slide in recent months) and look so good in . . . .whatever it is I look good in. Without the Marine Corps (and Dad's influence), I wouldn't be so pro-American and devoted to doing something for the sake of national security.

Let's not forget the Marines have the coolest uniforms, and their band is called The President's Own. Let's not forget the Marines were training for urban warfare back in the 80's while the Army was still planning for a mass land war in Europe.

There's all sorts of intangible qualities, like respect, honor, and self-confidence that I want so painfully to incorporate into myself. I knew that I could get those things from the Marines, and I don't know where to find them as a civilian.

So sometime this weekend I'll have a drink to the Marines and the Corps they serve. American citizens owe much to those Teufelhunden, the "Angels of Death" who guard our freedom and the walls that keep us safe at night. Oohrah.



(Yeah, I didn't buy into any propaganda at ALL)