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By Homer Hirt
The 11th day of November, 2019 Anno Domini, was the day declared as Veterans’ Day. I and a clutch or two of other veterans were invited to a local elementary school for a program. We also had breakfast, which was nice, as was the program. The children were orderly and polite, and the contingent of FFA members, dressed in their proper uniforms, escorted us thither and yon and back again.
The Colors were presented, and I was proud to see that the Marianna (Florida) Composite Squadron, Civil Air Patrol, sent their sharpest members to present them. The Squadron was my grandson’s first unit. I once wrote a column about the part the CAP played in World War II, a part that few know about.
The speech was given by a Marine, who just happens to be the assistant principal at the school. He did well, giving a nod to the rest of us, and reserving, as proper, much praise for his Corps.
At the breakfast, though, I deflated him somewhat. After he told me how old the Corps is, I asked him if he carried an umbrella. He glared at me and informed me that Marines NEVER carry them, and I smiled and told him that the dress code had changed and Marines are now authorized to carry umbrellas, if black and uniform, but only in their left hands. He seemed quieter after that.
I was going to let this time slip by and not talk about veterans or war or Red Cross ladies whom I dated, but I decided that it was time to praise the Corps once more, so I dipped back into my files and dusted off this column, and updated it somewhat, and sent it off.
It is still as true as the day that I first penned it about a decade ago. Read it, enjoy it…..and offer to hold an umbrella, black and uniform, for a Marine the next time it rains. I am certain that he or she will appreciate your thoughtfulness.
On November 10, 1775 Anno Domini, the Continental Congress began enlisting United States Marines at Tun’s Tavern in Philadelphia. I would not be surprised if the first Marine went out of the door and sat down in the shade of a tree, and then the second Marine joined him, only to hear the first Marine say: “Let me tell you how it was in the Old Corps”.
Since that time there has always been an Old Corps, the men who fought the battles throughout the years and were ready to regale the “boots” with stories of bravery and strength that seemingly reached beyond the capabilities of mere mortal men.
On November 10 this year every organized group of Marines not actually in combat will gather and a birthday cake will be cut with a Mameluke sword or perhaps a K-Bar knife. The first slice will be passed from the oldest Marine to the youngest, much as the legends are passed down from generation to generation, from battle to battle, from war to war.
“Send for the Marines!” has echoed down throughout the history of our United States when our country faced what seemed to be insurmountable odds. The Old Corps stood ready to storm the battlements, to land on the beachheads, to go one more mile, to take one more foot of ground or to deny that same foot of ground to the enemy.
General John J. “Blackjack” Pershing took them with him to the stalemated front in Europe during The Great War, and the Marines showed the Allies how to “go over the top” and how to win the war.
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At the beginning of World War II, when Roosevelt, Stalin and Churchill decided that most of the men and the materials of war would go to Europe, the Marines landed on a hellhole called Guadalcanal, forever after called simply “The Canal” by the Corps, and fought across jungles and swamps to Henderson Field so that our planes could land and turn the tide slowly in our favor.
When World War II ended, President Truman and his advisers decided that the next war would be won by long range bombers dropping nuclear devices. They made plans to emasculate the Navy and the Army and to combine the Marines with other ground forces. “The Revolt of the Admirals” stopped that.
When North Korea sent troops into South Korea, McArthur hurried a green and untrained Army in. As they were being pushed down toward the sea, he “Sent for the Marines”, many of whom were recalled WWII reservists, and dispatched them to Inchon, a place of high tides and rocky shorelines, a place that no one would select for an amphibious assault… but the Marines landed…and it was a success…and it turned the tide for us.
Then the Red Chinese sent in their army.
In spite of intelligence indicating this, McArthur in his offices in Tokyo did not believe it. From the maps he decided that the way to the end of the war led through the mountains around the Chosin Reservoir. In spite of the approaching winter our forces were sent up the roads, across the mountain ridges. The Army went on one road, the Marines on the other. Our Army was soundly defeated and retreated. The Marines dug in, gave way inch by inch, one division against seven of the enemy. In weather often fifty degrees below zero Fahrenheit they fought battle after battle, skirmish after skirmish, bringing out most of their dead and their wounded. Hundreds of sorties a day were flown when weather permitted, and they were flown by Marine and Navy pilots in antiquated Corsairs and other carrier-based aircraft, the very planes that would have no use in modern war, according to the officials back in Washington.
And the Marines won.
One Marine officer denied that his men were retreating. “Retreat, Hell! We are advancing in a different direction!” he was cited as saying. And they made it to Wonsan, to the Navy ships that brought medical care and food and warmth. Those who survived will ever after be known as the “ FrozenChosin” and the “Chosin Few”.
David Duncan, a Marine himself in World War II, photographed the Korean War for several well-known magazines. One frigid, miserable day near Christmas he told of standing at the port and watching the Marines come down the road from the Reservoir He took a picture of a Marine, worn and unshaven and dirty, who was standing by himself and looking out with what was called the “thousand meter stare”.
Douglas said that he could have been eighteen or sixty years of age by appearance. After he took the picture he walked up to the warrior and asked a question, which he later admitted was the most inane one he could ever ask: “If you could have anything you wanted for Christmas, what would it be?”, and the Marine looked at him for a moment and then said: “Give me tomorrow”.
And there you have it.
From the first Marine to defend our country down to the young recruit who will walk out of boot camp today, straight and proud, with the shadows of the Old Corps falling in behind him in spirit and tradition, the U. S. Marine Corps has, and, God willing, will always be there to give us our tomorrow!
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