On the buses to Santa Margarita for chow. Long chow lines. Cost, I think, $2.70. Mediocre food; not at all as I remember our chow. The milk is still cold. Two lines again, a MacFood line and a cooked-food line – beef stroganoff. BTW, forgot to mention chow is now served on plastic plates, and beverages in plastic glasses or cups. There are plastic mess trays sorta like the old metal klangers that we had.
Back to the buses and on to the field demonstrations – after waiting for all the stragglers. Some things never change. The demos were at Combat Town, and the LCAC (landing craft air cushion; Navy) base within the base. There were 8-10 buses. We split with half going to LCACs and we went to Combat Town, then switched.
We took the long way around to the Combat Town, which is in the hills behind Santa Margarita. After an orientation where we were introduced to the gear Marines carry today (it’s a lotta stuff), we observed a group of Reserve Marines from Missouri, Indiana and Kentucky preparing for deployment. I'd have expected these guys to be a little pissed at being pulled out of their civvie life to go to war, but they were Marines and gung-ho to go.
They were training how to "not kill" but to capture and hold personnel, a lot of talk about winning their hearts and minds (arrrgggghh). Seems a bit too PC and familiar to me. We chatted with various fire teams as they staged. Again Sir-Sir-Sir. Their gear is too cool: radio mikes, clip-on night vision scopes, knee and elbow pads (smart!), goggles, gloves, etc. They all had "camels" – a back-pack full of water with a tube running over the shoulder to put in their mouth as needed. Seems the issue camels suck, so the guys buy their own, more reliable camel, at the PX. Ditto goggles, the issue version doesn’t seal well and scratches easily.
Although the conversations were easy, with banter back and forth, these guys seemed to be as in awe of all the old Marines as we oldsters were of them.
A rather funny thing happened. The Combat Town is on a couple of acres on the side of a gentle hill, and there is a perimeter road circling the town. A group of oldsters decided to walk around the town. Off they went, 20-30 of them. A few minutes later a couple of squads of Marines came roaring out of the town, having completed their exercise, on the other end of the perimeter road. It appeared as if all the old guys had fulfilled their dreams and transformed into active Marines again. I wish.
All the while the film crew was busy with interviews. Those high-heels were getting dusty. Then back on the bus and off to the LCAC base. The things are cool but I couldn’t talk the swabs into giving us a ride so the hell with 'em.
Back on the bus, find an obscure field and wait for all the other buses to form-up and decide who was going where – multiple destinations to redeposit the riders where they needed to be.
We went back to the parade ground, got the car and drove to the SNCO Club to prep for the ceremonies and dinner. Changed into jacket and tie in the head – BTW there doesn’t seem to be "officer’s heads" any longer. Guess they’re not embarrassed to pee alongside lowly types.
The SNCO Club is a grand thing: modern, clean, well decorated, numerous rooms and halls, quite unlike SNCO clubs that I remember. The banquet room had 120 tables set up, which means that nearly a thousand were expected. The Division placed at least one active Marine at each table. Ours was to have been a LtCol, but was a no-show. And Jay always sits with the corpsman that saved his butt on Pelileu.
The band tuned-up and began playing show tunes before the ceremonies, which were mercifully brief: colors, an invocation, a birthday cake, a few words from the commanding general. He finished with the piously beginning poem that ends ". . .and greater love hath no man, than one drunken Marine for another." – Let’s party!
A few more observations: I don’t like the Blues trousers with the short-sleeve shirt – looks like two, half uniforms. Both the Blues and the Greens are made with some sort of polyester material and look cheap. And the patent-leather shoes – asked a couple of Marines about them. They hate them: feet sweat like crazy and blister even when oversize and wearing two pairs of socks.
I do like the Marines: they are polite, sharp, hard, dedicated, proud, and still make the best with what they have, and are ready to go.
Outside as we were leaving a LtCol introduced himself and we chatted for a bit. In parting I told him to kick-some-ass in Iraq. His unflappable, if politically correct response was that he’d do his best to protect the freedoms of those at home.
Wonder what Chesty would say to that?
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** About the author: Ed Butsch was active duty 1960-64. Served in TLC (Thai/Laos/ Cambodia) theater as Avionics Chief attached to CAT (Civil Air Transport). Today he's
a high-tech engineering manager.
General Order 1—Take charge of this post and all government property in view.
GO 2—Walk my post in a military manner, keeping always on the alert and observing everything that takes place within sight or hearing.
GO 3—Report all violations of orders I am instructed to enforce.
GO 4—Repeat all calls from posts more distant from the guardhouse than my own.
GO 5—Quit my post only when properly relieved.
GO 6—Receive, obey and pass on to the sentry who relieves me all orders from the commanding officer, officer of the day, and officers and noncommissioned officers of the guard only.
GO 7—Talk to no one except in the line of duty.
GO 8—Give the alarm in case of fire or disorder.
GO 9—Call the corporal of the guard in any case not covered by instructions.
GO 10—Salute all officers and all colors and standards not cased.
GO 11—Be especially watchful at night, and during the time for challenging, to challenge all persons on or near my post and to allow no one to pass without proper authority.
