Archive for the ‘USMC’ Category

Half Man/Half Boy…Half Woman/Half Girl

May 24, 2008


      every now and then I recieve a E-maill I feel is worth sending on and more so than just forwarding on E-mail, I want to expose more on my blog.  This is the start of the Memoral Day weekend and this is one I feel is apporate for all to see.  As you know if you are a regular reader I am a patroicotic old cuss, and a supporter of our millitary people.  Being a NO LOAD MARINE  (no longer on active duty) of fifty years now, I am always looking for something about our service people to pass on.  I know that not all of our  troops are kids, but many are,  Including my grandson  PFC Jeremy —– USMC, soon to be active.  So please read the following, and enjoy, which I recieved and my daughter  posted for me:

If you read this, you WILL want to forward it on — You just won’t be able to stop yourself.

The average age of the military man is 19 years.  He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.  He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s, but he has never collected unemployment either.

He’s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.  He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.

He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.  He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.  He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.

He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.

He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.

He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.  He is self-sufficient.

He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other.
He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.

He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.

If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food.
He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.

He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.

He can save your life – or take it, because that is his job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.

He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.

He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.

He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to ‘square-away’ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking.

In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.

Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.  Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.

He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

And now we even have women over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.

As you go to bed tonight, remember this shot

A short lull, a little shade and a picture of loved ones in their helmets.

Prayer wheel for our military… please don’t break it

Please send this on after a short prayer.

Prayer Wheel

“Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us.Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need; Amen”

When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops in Afghanistan, sailors on ships, and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq…

There is nothing attached…

This can be very powerful…….Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine, or Airman, prayer is the very best one.I can’t break this one, sorry. Pass it on to everyone and pray.

     You will notice in the first photo the trooper is carrying the linked ammo for the squads automatic weapons draped around his neck, this is easier than carrying it in the ammo can but can be rough on the neck.  In the third photo they are loading the magazines for their rifles,  with what is called ten round stripper clips.  And the sleeping girls look like they should be primping for the prom.  

     let us remember these kids as we are Bar-B-Q’ing, or watching Old WWII movies, the war dead on this Memorial Day.  Let us remember the ones serving  now, and the wounded from this war and the ones from the past wars also.

     You can send a card to thanks, and cheer up a wounded service member at,




BETHESDA, MD.20889-5600






      Pick the service member of your choice, send a card or letter just seal the envelope with a small peice of tape  incase they feel the need to inspect the contents to insure that it does not contain some  crap that would be detremental to the morale of a serviceman.  It is sad to say that some people do send hatefull stuff to these brave people.  Any thanks is apprecated by our service people.






thanks for riding along on this ramble




May 17, 2008


    Not too long back I sat down and fired off a ramble about the treatment my grandson was reciving in his new unit.  That was a grandfather and a NO LOAD  MARINE  (no longer on  active duty) spouting off.

     Now I must return to my active duty days fifty years ago and look at from the other side of the row.  The grandson has joined this unit as a diffrent millitary occoupational service number , a radio operator.  He did not take any of his or their prior trainning together.  He has joined this unit who have already bonded together as a outsider.

     To further compound the rift that exists between them, he has come into the unit as a married  Marine who has chosen to accept  the off base living allowance and bring his wife into the picture.  This means he lives off base and has to bring his own lunch with him.  He does not live on base, eat or socialize after hours with them.  Except for the days spent on manuvers. He is basically an eight hour shift Marine.  This I know, from my time long years ago, makes him a “lesser” Marine than the twenty-four hours aday, seven day a week Marine.  There is now way around  it, it is just they way the guys think and feel, they see him as less committed than they are.

     While it seems unfair to one on the outside looking in, in a way it is true, for his mind is on the young woman at home, while he is out there trainning with the other guys.  He is worrying about how to stretch the incoming pay check to cover the rent, buy groceries, and cover the other neccesities needed to make it through to the next pay day.  These are worries that the young men living on base do not have.  Blow your money early, you still have a bed, shower, and food three times a day – you just sit tight until next payday.  There are rec. rooms on the base for entertainment and buddies you can hang with. (more…)


April 21, 2008


      Well my grandson is in the MARINE CORPS.  We Marines pride ourselves in our brotherhood, as well we should.  However, truth be told, the Corps is riddled with stupid prejudices.

     My grandson is a communications specialist (radio operator) assigined to an infantary unit.  This is at Camp Lejuine N.C., and apparently it is made up of mostly rednecks and racists.  My grandson has married a sweet girl of mixed herritage, she is half Black and half Puerto Rican.  He is recieving a lot of ridicule because he is red headed and because of his wife..  Also the new unit seems to think that they are better then he – because they are infantry and he is not.

     This is common in the Corps-  the infantry thinks they are the real Marines.  But we all went through the same Boot Camp training to recieve the Eagle Globe and Anchor and for the right to be called Marine.  It takes at least five, maybe more, behind the line Marines to support one on the front.  And we all go and do what the Brass decide for us.  I repaired weapons as my duty assignment, I would have rathered been a fighting man, than in the rear, but did what I was told.

     But this is what burns me – this young man is right there with these assholes, whereever they are, he carries a loaded rifle, his own pack plus that damn heavy raido.  He will be a preferred target because he is their communications link to the rear.  He will be the one to call for fire support, med evacuation and any aid needed .  He will be right there in the thick of it with them, so what makes them think they are any better than him?  The only one more important than he will be their Navy Corpsman (the Doc), and he is not infantary.

     I just wish this old Redneck Marine could sit on their ears for awhile, I’d fill their heads with enough shit for them to dig out and ponder for awhile.

Enough of this ramble.

 I continue to improve a little each day…

Hopefully I will be able to continue my Billy The Kid ramble soon, right now I tire easly.


Related Reading: USMC: RAMBLE again

Kilroy was here!

March 7, 2008

Kilroy was here! 

     I was a WWII baby, born in Oct. 1938.  I remember the war years remarkably well for being so young during this time.  One thing I remember was KILROY he popped up everywhere even in rural Missouri.  I remember seeing him on passing boxcars of when  steam locomotives trains rolled by.  I was always fascinated with him.  In news reels at the movie theater he would show up in clips on the sides of tanks and painted on bombs being loaded on to planes.  Later when I was a little older he showed up during the Korean conflict (no one called it a war, Police Action was the correct term).  He made a appearance in Viet Nam, and had shown up on fighting vehicles in the gulf War and is ridding along side of our people in the current conflict in the Mid -East.  The following post is taken from a site I receive weekly devoted to Marine Corps related subjects.  I found it quite interesting, and since the author gives permission for it to be passed around I asked my daughter to  place it into a draft for your enjoyment. 

     Below is an excerpt from The Sgt. Grit Newsletter I subscribe (and occasionally contribute) to: Sgt Grit American Courage Newsletter #169 – 6 Mar 2008 .

     It is preceded by a comment from my daughter. 

      Hi Dad – I remember Kilroy, I thought he came from the hippies or during the psychedelic 70’s. Goes to show ya what I know! I remember I had a red rubber kilroy that I could put in a pocket and have him peeking out. It’s neat to read about the ties to the armed forces. Love ya!!


My first brush with “Kilroy” was in 1950 as a youngster in Athens, Greece, where at the Anglo-American School the children of war-time multi-national expatriates attended classes. Our mixed lot was comprised of a far ranging and diverse group. Most were American children, but included were Brits, Indians, Turks, Egyptians, Italians, Spaniards and others from respective embassies, military services and even missionaries.

Kilroy was more legend than fad, the small drawing and inscription was ubiquitous and in the most unusual places. It was found on black boards, on the walls of restroom stalls, on the playground walls and basketball backboards. At that early age, it bugged me that “Kilroy” had been someplace ahead of me, but I soon got in the spirit and although too young to grasp its significance, like many of my cohorts, I would occasionally adorn some spot with the famous, or infamous depending on ones perspective, sketch and statement.

A few years ago my bride and I had the privilege to ride the USS Iwo Jima on its maiden voyage from its birthplace at the shipyards Pascagoula, Ms. to Pensacola, Fl. There were about two thousand guests aboard the ship and many sat on the flight deck to enjoy the sun and breeze. As we strolled by one lady whose leg was in a cast, we noted among all the greetings was the well known image and inscription, “Kilroy Was Here.”

Few people reading this today are old enough to remember how very important “Kilroy Was Here” was to GIs in WW2, Korea, and is today in the Gulf War and Iraq. The best legend of how he started is that James Kilroy was a rivet inspector on ships in Salem MS during WWII. To prove he had inspected, he would scribble the words throughout the ship.

Often the ships were sent to sea before painting or cleaning up (one Liberty ship was actually built in four days), GIs and sailors found the graffiti in impossible places. Soon Kilroy became the super GI who always got there first and survived. They began placing him in the most unlikely places. He has been reported on enemy beaches as landing GIs approached, on the Arc De Triomphe and even scrawled in the sand on the moon. As Owen Edwards said in the Smithsonian; “‘Kilroy Was Here’ appeared almost everywhere American soldiers went.”

There is one story of Stalin after emerging from a “porta- potti” at the Malta Summit, asked, “Who is Kilroy?” Kilroy was in all likelihood the forerunner of modern graffiti which itself has a long and illustrious history.

But why did this crude drawing and scrawled words become the super GI of WWII, Korea, the Gulf War, and Iraq? We know how it probably started but why the “movement?” I see the Kilroy phenomenon as a manifestation of absolutely amazing sense of humor. GI’s were always able to find something funny to say and do under stress that those of us today can only imagine. I also see Kilroy as a comfort to GI’s suffering through a world gone mad. No matter how bad it got, no matter what the danger, no matter how exhausted, scared or fed up they got, Kilroy was there first and survived. Only those who have “been there,” “done that,” can really appreciate and understand their motivations.

Finally, “Kilroy Was Here” was an effort by millions of GI’s to be a little rebellious when their whole life was controlled by others. It broke the horrible tension and provided a little fun. “Kilroy Was Here” persisted in spite of efforts by several commands to stamp it out. Certainly several occupied territory commanders issued orders that Kilroy not be scribbled and that it be removed wherever it was found. Such orders were always greeted with monumental indifference.

He was an outward demonstration of rebellious GI’s insisting on some individuality! “Kilroy Was Here” was duty – duty to their country; duty to their buddies. These were not warriors but simple guys who were caught up in forces far beyond their control. But warriors they became! By 1945 they were the most skilled warriors in the world. But, they never thought of themselves as such. They were just guys who wanted to get the job done and go home. Actually, they felt the only way to go home was to get the job done. This was a powerful motivation! Griping was taken to an art form but whining was never heard.

Kilroy still lives everywhere GIs have passed, including courthouses, places of worship, markets, and undoubtedly other, less respectable places limited only by ones imagination.

The generation that made Kilroy famous is now going to its eternal reward at the rate of a thousand a day; it won’t be very long before its members are gone. But our memory of them will live on for their legacy of sacrifice, bravery and wit. The torch has been passed to a new generation of American servicemen and women who are equal to any challenge, adversity and enemy. If politicians would but listen to and permit them, they can and will keep this nation safe and free for another generation, until their time too has passed. Static memorials grace Washington, State Capitols and even towns across the country, but few things are as ubiquitous as a US postage stamp, and consistent with that it is fitting that a stamp to commemorate past and contemporary heroes be issued so that wherever they travel and mail follows, Kilroy will always be there.

My good friend, Pat Tillery and I call on you to make a difference by sending a postcard or letter urging the Postal Service to issue a stamp to commemorate “Kilroy Was Here.” Send you notes, cards, and/or letters to:

Citizens Stamp Advisory Committee
Stamp Development
US Postal Service
1735 North Lynn Street, Rm. 501
Arlington VA 22209-6432

Or send an email, letter or petition to

Semper Fidelis

If you wish to send a comment or ask a question of Bob Pappas please use: pappas @

If you wish to read PREVIOUS ARTICLES by Col Pappas, please see:

Copyright © February 24th, 2008, by Patrick Tillery and Robert L. Pappas. With proper attribution, this essay may be quoted and redistributed. It may not be used in any way, in conjunction with any advertisement without the authors expressed written permission.  

Contact info for the author is noted in the excerpt above.

The direct link to the article in Sgt Grit’s newsletter is:
*scroll near the bottom of the page to find the above article by Col Pappa.

      There is very little I can add to this post Col. Pappa has covered it all.  I simply found it fascinating, and felt some might enjoy it who would not ever have found it otherwise.  In addition to my daughters comment I too at various times in my long life also had the little pocket Kilroy figure to stick in my pocket.  I have seen Kilroy make his appearance in Iraq on the sides of fighting equipment.  I am glad that he still exists to day and is doing his globe trotting as if he still possesses eternal youth.

     On a  more somber note my grandson who is in the Marines has just finished his Communications training at Twenty_Nine Palms and has reported to Camp Lejuine, North Carolina.  He arrived there this last Sunday evening and caledl us on Tuesday to let us know he had arrived safely and called again last night.  This time he reported that he has already been told that he will deploy to Iraq in October (2008).  This is not the kind of news we like to hear, but he is just one of thousands who have been placed into harms way by this conflict.  No matter how any of us feel about this mess, we owe the men and women who are sent there our whole-hearted support.  I fear that there is no end in sight for this damn thing no matter who gets the vote this November.  I simply hope in my deepest heart that our people get to come home whole and with their souls intact. 





February 9, 2008


 When I started to school way back in 1944 (Yikes), one of the first ditty’s they taught us was,

I’m Capt. Jinks of the Horse Marines,

I feed my horse corn and beans.

I teach my horses how to prance,

and I teach young ladies how to dance.

     And that was all the history I ever got about the Horse Marines.  I often wondered what inspired such a song.

     I recently treated myself to two large books on the Marine Corps the first, U S M C a complete history, is a huge 665 page volume of Marine Corps history.  It has a day by day chronological order of Marine Corps events, beginning in 1775 to the Gulf War.  There are many photos and paintings from history and detailed accounts of many marine events.  The second book is sponsored by the Marine Corps League.  Unfortunately I discovered that most of the photos and paintings are included in both volumes.  However the text and format are different.

     While exploring the books I found a photo in the 1920’s section on china of a column of Horse Marines on patrol, however there was no accompanying text just the caption below the picture.  the picture was a long shot of a single file group of mounted men on small horses.  They appeared to be dressed in white pants and blue jackets with white garrison hats.  I could count twenty-nine men in the patrol.

     A visit to google revealed a little more information, though not much.  Reference was made to some mounted Marines during the Mexican War and mounted Marines in Haiti, but not in an official capacity.  Some Marines of the 4th division in China in the 1920 -44 period were assigned to a mounted unit.  Originally they were formed as a ceremonial unit.  However they were soon put to patrol duties.  It was stated that they wore the dress blue uniform and were issued a straight saber.  The photo I alluded to showed the riders to be somewhat proportionally large for their mounts, which were listed as the small Mongolian ponies.   On a following page I discovered a Painting of a Horse Marine in 1937, and a photo of a Crpl.   jumping his horse over an obsticale  in Peking in 1937.  On a preceding page is a photo of Horse Marines mounted for inspection in front of the embassy in Peking.  This is about all I could find on the Horse Marines.  On one of the Websites I visit regularly devoted to the Marines I posted this information.  Today I had a reply from a older guy who wrote that it is said in his family his grandpap was a Horse Marine.

The B-24 Bomber

     Now I must confess my knowledge of the Marine Corps Air Wing is limited to John Wayne’s movie “FLYING LEATHERNECKS”.  I was surprised to find that there photos of Marine Aircraft all the way from 1916.  Planes were used in Nicaragua in the 1920’s.  (more…)

Marine Corps Drill Instructors Abuse

December 21, 2007


      Along about July I was called to my attention that several drill instructors were to stand court marshall for abusing recruits.  Since my grandson had just went active in July I have followed the case as closely as possible.  In last Sundays paper a small article appeared in which the verdict of one Sgt. was relieved and the findings of the second told.

     A Sgt. Jarrod Glass had been found guilty of striking recruits with a tent pole and a heavy flashlight, he also forced one recruit to jump into a trash can head first then pushed him farther into the can.

     His verdict was eight counts of cruelty and maltreatment of recruits, destruction of personal property, assault and violating orders on how to properly treat recruits.

     Sgt. Glass was sentenced to six months in the brig, a dishonorable discharge, forfeiture of all pay and reduction in rank to private.

      A second Sgt.  Brian Wendel was found not guilty of abuse but convicted of failing to report abuses committed by others.  He was also found guilty of drinking beer in the drill instructors offices while off duty.

     He faces a maximum sentence of a year in the brig, a dishonorable discharge and reduction in rank to private.  His sentence was to have imposed this last Monday, but I have not seen any thing further in the paper.

     A third Sgt. is awaiting charges and court marshal.

     When I was first made aware of these charges in July the news paper article stated that a Marine Corps source stated that a average of six abuse cases are investigated each year.  The source also stated that every effort is made to weed out these abusive Drill Instructors, as these Kids are at their mercy and are trained t view these men as gods, and are powerless when faced with this type of behavior.

     Now here is where I have my gripe, I visit several web sites that are Marine Corps related.  Every time something like this surfaces, there are always a few individuals who rush in and scream WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO MY CORPS?  the mothers of America are ruining the Corps by interfering with the Marine Corps Boot Camp.  back in my day we——. 

     Crap back in my day 50+ years ago you could not beat the hell out of a recruit then without discipline.  Any action that places a young man at risk for injury is not allowed.  A damaged recruit is of no use to anyone.     Sure we were pushed to the limit and then past it but we were not hurt.  

     The other thing I often see is, keep these damn civilians out of the Marine Corps workings.  These Sgt.s were tried by a Marine Corps Court Marshal convened and juried by Marine Corps Officers who know Marine Corps Law.  There is no civilian interface involved.

     I was just over on one of my favorite sites tonight and read a article by a man who just attended his grandsons graduation from boot camp in San Diego and he was decrying how easy his grandson had it in boot camp and whether they were turning out Marines as good as in his day fifty years ago.  He needs to sit down with his grandson and learn what he has absorbed in his thirteen weeks of training.  It was a eye opener for me I too felt that boot camp was softer than in MY DAY.  A term the old guys like to use.  My grandson learned more in his thirteen weeks than I ever did.  their first-aid training is out standing and they ran farther than we did and Lord we did not even have any hand-to-hand teaching at all they had forty hours of it.

     No it is right that we give these kids to protection they need, we are not making boot camp soft by weeding out abusers.  In every organization there are abusers, be it Police, or any area of authority there are some bad apples even in marriage.  Hell look it it we are afraid to let our children walk down the street any more.  So when we send our young people off to train to defend our country we need to know that we are trusting them ot  people of high quality and trust.  Do not get me wrong I hold the Marine Corps Drill Instructor in high regard.  Hell a couple I know had a hand in making me the man I am today.  Their job is hard and demanding and they often are hated but the respect that a Marine has for his Instructor later in life if legendary.

OK time to get of the soap box for now.




December 12, 2007


     Today Dec. 11, 2007, my wife and I went to my grandson’s graduation ceremony at Camp Pendelton from The School of Infantry.  Four-hundred-twenty young men completed their final preliminary training in becoming MARINES.  Four platoons consisting of 80+ men marched out onto the parade deck and stood at ease as the Company Commander read the reports and greeted the attending  families.  A brief description of the activities for the last twenty two days was given.  After a final  call to attention they were dismissed.  My grandson had only about fifteen Minutes to visit with us then he had to hustle to his quarters and process his gear to the buses.  He was shipping out immediately for Twenty-Nine Palms to begin his MOS training. He joined us in the Mess Hall for lunch where he only ate about half of his meal before hustling of to board the buss.

     He was supposed to be assigned to Electrical Communications Repair School in North Carolina.  His paper work came down as a radio operator, a grunt in the lines.  I asked him “did you even try to get it changed to what you signed up for?”,  He said “not too hard, I kinda want to go” .  I understand the Gung-Ho Marine attitude, but now I will be worrying about him a lot sooner.   By the time I sat down to write this I imagine he is esconed in his new quarters and will have received his new issue of weapons and web gear.

     I got to see some of the new equipment and weapons they trained with in the School of Infantry.  The first thing they put on is the vest.  It is pretty heavy in itself.  It had an insert that can absorb three 7.62 rounds before cracking and also has a back and two side plates.  Over this goes the pack and frame – the pack with required equipment weighs in at 40 pounds – then whatever the Marine wants to carry as personal items – clean socks, underwear, t-shirts, what ever.  Add to this his weaponry and ammo, plus three canteens of water.  Plus my grandson will now add the weight of a field radio.  Luckily most of the time at this time of the year Twenty-nine Palms won’t bee too hot, mater of fact it can get damn cold there, especially at night.

     By this time these young men have had over forty hours of US Marine Corps Martial Arts Training.  Hand to hand, offence and defensive, knife and bayonet (The bayonet they now have serves as a knife, it’s as good as the old K-BAR).  And as previously mentioned the First Aid Training is way beyond the scope of what we had fifty years ago.

     Here I just want to say again, to the naysayers who complain that the marines are too soft on the recruits today — shut up, step back and take a look at these fine young men.  They are better equipped and better trained than I was fifty years ago.  They are trained and equipped to do the job.  Just get the G–dammed politicians out of the military and let them do the job.  Amen –  getting off my soap box and hibernating for now. This damn computer room is an ice box.


WWII, Tokyo Rose and Troop Demoralization

June 26, 2007

     If you have ever watched many of the old World War Two movies  about the war with Japan in the Pacific you will be familiar with Tokoy Rose.  She is usually potrayed as a beautiful Ashian woman sitting before a mike with Japanesse Officers standing behind her.  Her  job was to demoralise our troop fighting the Japaneese.  To retain their interest she played popular music from America, which the troops could not pick up from home stations.  This is a little diffrent from my other postings as it contains mostly subjct matter gleaned through E-mail and other  internet sourceses.

I do not know the exact origin of the opinions below   I recevied them via email with many forwards prior to my receiving it.  Tokyo Rose is an interesting story stemming from the World War Two.   According to wikipedia:

“Tokyo Rose (alternate spelling Tokio Rose) was a generic name given by Allied forces in the South Pacific during World War II to any of approximately twenty English-speaking female broadcasters of Japanese propaganda.”

     According to EarthStation1,  one woman was single out and tried as Tokyo Rose  – Iva Ikuko Toguri.   Ask Yahoo also confirms this in their post Who was Tokyo Rose?.  You can read more about the Tokyo Rose legend at any of the links noted above,  or google Tokyo Rose for an overwhelming amount of data to sift through.

      Now on to the interesting opinions I received via email and find myself agreeing with wholeheartedly:

Subject: Tokyo Rose

 There are a few parallels here.

 The other night we watched a movie called, “Flags of our Fathers.”  During the movie, I pointed out the radio broadcast of “Tokyo Rose.”

 She had the best music on her station. During World War II; the Japanese developed a way to demoralize the American forces.  Psychological warfare experts developed a message they felt would work.

 They gave the script to their famous broadcaster “Tokyo Rose” and every day she would broadcast this same message packaged in different  ways.

 The Japanese hoped it would have a negative impact on American GI’s morale.

 What was that demoralizing message? It had three main points:

 1. Your President is lying to you.

 2. This war is illegal.

  3. You cannot win the war.

 Does this sound familiar today?

      It is because we are being bombarded by Tokyo Hillary, Tokyo Harry, Tokyo Teddy, Tokyo Nancy, Tokyo Murtha, etc. ,and they have picked up  the same message and are broadcasting it on Tokyo CNN, Tokyo ABC, Tokyo CBS, Tokyo NBC, etc., to our troops.

      The only difference is that they claim to support our troops before  they demoralize them. Come to think of it, Tokyo Rose told the troops she was on their side, too.

Now I am a inactive United States Marine (for many years as you all know).  And I am truthfully disapointed with the way this current war is being handled and I also am at lost as how to bring it to a successfull conclusion.  But I at no time am ready to abandon my support of our fighting men & women in this troubled shit hole of the world.  And it sickens me to see that smug Nancy P. and fat assed, bloated, woman drowning Teddy Kennedy,  (maybe some of you are not old enough to remember the Chappaquiddick incident, and how the Kennedy money let a manslaughterer walk free) , and their Ilk spouting their two faced crap in the name of representing me, when I so strongly disagree with their assement.  Damn this is enough to make my blood pressure medication inefective, so I’ll stop this rant here.


A Empty Minded Ramble

May 4, 2007

     Like I said in the title, I have nothing in mind to write about. This blogging is kinda addictive, but when nothing  comes to mind to write about, it is sort of frustrating.   I am surprised by the response I have received on my last outing, ” Gals Of The Old West”.  Seems like I have had more than several hits a day since I posted it.  Just a short time ago I dug out the other books that have the necessary material in them to continue.  While I know the women I want to write about, many of the dates and  associtated names elude me.  The two I wrote about Annie Oakley and Belle Starr, are  familiar because I have read and studied them both many times in the past.  Several of the others I intend to cover are Calamity Jane,  Little Charlie Parkhurst,  Pearl Heart, and the youngsters Cattle Annie and Little Britches.  There also are the Ladies of the Evening in the wings, along with some of the Calvary Wives.  Lord  you better hope that I don’t get started on the gun hands and lawmen, I might never find a stopping point.  As you can see along with the Civil War I have a deep interest in the Old West, it’s people and equipment.

     To change the subject now,  Something jogged my memory the other day on censiorship.     In the mid sixties I remember some damn old Bi#@hwas trying to get the Edgar Rice Burrows book about “Tarzan removed from the City of Downey city Library because Tarzan and Jane were living together unmarried.  Apparently she did not read the book because in the first book delt  with Tarzan’s birth and upbringing, adding to the improbability he discovered his father and mother’s tree house where he found his knife which he named the big tooth.  He also discovered some books and figured out their purpose, and taught his self to read (huh).  Yes,, he rescues Jane and considered her personal property for a time but not as a wife.       And in old Edgar’s day sex was not mentioned at all.  In the second book Tarzan follows Jane and her father, a New York Judge, to America and tries to live as a civilised person.  However as the criminals of the streets of New York soon finds out muggers beware (they never have had their throats ripped out by someones teeth before).  The mob kidnaps Jane to force the Judge to throw out a case against the mob boss.  Taking Jane to the Catskill Mountains where our tree swinger strips off his clothes and is in his element to effect Jane’s rescue.  The Judge, Dad, marries Tarzan and Jane before they return to the jungle for a number of adventures in more books.  I read most of these as a bored United States Marine in 12 Area on Camp Pendelton, in California.  the Area Library was adjacent to my barracks and I was a frequent visitor to the establishment.   I believe it was run by civilians or Marine wives.  Next door was a small theater where I watched “My Sister Ilene” preformed by a theater trope of young officers and their women.  Also while in this area I served on Mess Hall Duty and set penn’s at the four lane bowling alley one Sunday afternoon for a couple of the Cook’s and their dates (it never hurts to have a “in” with a cook, as a previous chapter explains in my desert Field exercise at Twenty Nine Palms shows). (more…)

USMC Field Exercises

November 19, 2006


After completing Boot Camp and Individual Combat Training I was assigned to my permanent duty station, The First Service Battalion of the First Marine Division stationed at Camp Pendleton California.  We were first located at Area Twenty-five, Camp Rio Hondo, located on a small platue over looking a usually dry streambed.  It was a pleasant little camp consisting of two camps separated by a medium sized parade ground that I do not ever recall using in our stay there.  Our side had all the different service units and the other the Truck Transportation division.  We were the repairmen for small arms, artillery, optical equipment and such.  We lived in old quansit huts painted a horrid green.  Our shops were new      metal workhouses.  It was a good duty station, with an excellent Mess Hall.  Meals were served family style at large picnic type tables; Instead of the traditional stainless steel mess trays we ate of heavy-duty stone wear plates.  Breakfast was served by the chow line but lunch and dinner was served by sitting at the table and the food was already on the tables and you served yourself and when a plate was empty it was held in the air and the guys doing mess duty would retrieve it and bring it back filled.  This was the only place I ever saw this type of mess hall.  I served my share of mess duty there, as we were a small battalion so we were frequently placed on this duty.  This was in the day when potatoes were still pealed and I did my share.  I was often placed on the salad bar making the salads, as I had what the chef cook called an artistic flare.  This is where I met one of the younger cook who was from my Joplin Missouri only 18 miles from where I was born, this was to pay off later as you will see.  But this is not what this story started out to be about.

      I joined the unit in early December and took my first leave of absence for two weeks to include Christmas and returned just after.  In early January we were all bussed over to the main area where our headquarters were located and ushered into a large auditorium where we were first addressed by the Unit Commander A Colonel Stam (I remember him because he had a sixteen year old daughter who stood on the review platform at the unit parades with him, she was a blond) (remember I was only 18 at the time so it made a lasting impression).  He told us what a grand adventure the Marine Corps had in store for us.  Then a Master Sergeant took over and told us how Doctors and Lawyers paid hundreds of dollars to go camping for two weeks like we were going to do. Hoha I hope their trip went more smoothly than ours did.     After much preparation and loading of trucks we were loaded on to buses like sardines and hauled of to San Diego Ca. to the Navy yards where we were off loaded and marched to the waiting transport ships.  Damn to a kid who never had been on a rowboat those damn things looked big.  We were marched up gangplanks and herded below decks where we got to choose our luxurious accommodations.  A two by six foot canvas bunk (a piece of canvas rope lashed to a steel frame) stacked six high.  I wisely chose the top bunk of course I had to climb up the side of the other four bunks to reach mine but no one climbed over me.  Also once we got under way the sea sick guys did not puke up if they could not get out of the confined area in time Oh yes there was only two feed of space separating these canvas coffins bunk to bunk.  Mama might not have raised the sharpest tack in the box but I could always size up a situation pretty fast.  We sat in port for two days after boarding while the rest of the convoy assembled, this was a large operation.  This was in the days when the helicopter was still in the development stage for service use so we were still learning amphibious landings.  We were herded to the mess halls three times a day where we are standing at small narrow steel tables off of the standard steel tray food was mostly chipped beef gravy on toast (shit on a shingle) or beans (navy of course) and a hard roll, not to appetizing and once the ship got under way with thee guys sick in all we were really ready to get off these damn ships. I visited the PX on board and they had six rolls of 126-color film with processing included for $1.50 each I bought them all.  When the ship got under way and we hit the open water many of the guys were hanging over the rails or in the heads getting sick.  I felt a little queasy at first but quickly adapted.  We were allowed on deck as long as we did not interfere with the sailor’s duties.  There was much trading of insults between the two branches of service much of it pretty rough.  I was sent to g some cleaning material with a sailor who took off running down the companionways.  Hard on his heels so I would not get lost he hit a ladder at a dead run catching it with the hells of his hands and the inside of his shoes he slid out of sight so fast I damn near fell down the hole in the deck.  This was how it went between us young guys that defend our country.  I used to wander to the fantail and watch the sharks that followed the wake of the ship waiting for the garbage to be dumped over board.  I also saw my first Porpoise jump together across the bow of the ship.  One morning we awoke and went on deck to find that what looked like every ship in the navy had joined us over night.  I wondered if this is what it might have been like for my Uncles.  Of course they were getting ready for combat, not playing war games like us. (more…)