What's a Marine As In USMC?
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Do you know what a Devil Dog is?Do you know what a canine Devil Dog is?
- The Canine Devil Dogs of The United States Marine Corps!
The hub provides a fascinating account of the Devil Dogs in WWII.
By the way USMC stands for United States Marine Corps
Everyone knows what a Marine is I thought. But, I should have remembered, never assume. I happened to mention to a neighbor something about the Marines.. She looked at me and said, “What’s a Marine?”
I was stunned, dumbfounded, and speechless.
“Are they soldiers? “She asked.
I was about to go on a rant. Then I just shrugged my shoulders and said, “Tougher than soldiers.” And turned and started to walked away.
There was no reason to make an issue of it. Heck, the newscasters on both local TV news and national news consistently referred to Marine casualties as soldiers killed or wounded or Army Casualties as Marines killed or wounded.. The U.S.M.C or Army, or some observant viewers who were insulted probably called attention to these errors because I haven’t noticed a marine being referred to as a soldier for the last year or two.
“Hey,” she said. “What is the difference?”
“I am not going to explain,” I replied. Just leave it that confusing Marines with soldiers is like confusing airmen with sailors. They are different. Their difference should be respected.”
As I walked away from my neighbor I thought of my uncle. He had been a three war Marine; WWII, Korea and two tours of duty in Viet Nam. He rose to the rank of Sgt. Major.. When he was dressed in his dress blues he was something to behold.
I flashed back to shortly after I had been discharged . I was visiting my uncle. One evening he and I began to do some serious damage to a bottle of Jack Daniels. As we drank my uncle opened up. He said, “You know I got out of the Corps after WWII.”
“How come you went back in,” I asked.
“I was in the reserves and they called me up for Korea. After that I wasn’t much good for civilian life. So I stayed in.
He talked about things seen and done during the retreat from the Chosin Reservoir where he had been part of the rear guard as the Chinese flooded across the border . Horrors were recalled that were decades old but whose memories were fresh as today.
How many of his comrades had died in the hell spots of Viet Nam, Korea, the Pacific? At Iwo Jima 1 out of 3 Marines were killed or wounded. There were almost 26,000 casualties in just 36 days of combat. Almost 7,000 were killed. That’s almost twice the number of servicemen and women killed in Iraq.
My uncle said, “You know they didn’t have drown proofing when I went through boot camp. That was something they began after so many boys drowned during amphibious landings in the Pacific. Their landing craft would get hung up on reefs. They would walk off the boats with their full packs and ammo right into water over their heads, and that was the end of them. That’s why they teach you to survive in the water at boot camp.”
We talked into the night, he did most of the talking, I did most of the listening.
My uncle passed away a few years ago. The last time I saw him we drove out to his favorite fishing spot. We didn’t fish, we just sat there looking at the water. He told me he had donated his uniform and ribbons and medals to the local museum.
He told me, “One day I decided to see what they had done with it. They had talked about having an exhibit and my uniform would be part of it.”
“Did you like what they did with it?” I asked.
“No one knew where my uniform was. We looked around and opened a closet door and there it was on the floor in the closet.”
He related the fate of his uniform matter-of-factually, but I could tell that experience had hurt him deeply.
He’s gone now; gone are all but a few of the army airmen, the soldiers, sailors, and marines of his generation.
Now there is a generation where one, perhaps many don’t know the difference between a Marine and a soldier. Should they? I think so. If someone is willing to risk life and limb for the civilians back home, the least that can be done is for those civilians to know the different branches of the service and what they do.
Of course I shouldn’t be surprised by someone not knowing what a Marine is. While youngsters in the Marines and the Army are turned into corpses and casualties in Iraq and Afghanistan, there isn’t one sacrifice that is being made by anyone outside their own families. So why should anyone care what the difference between a Marine or a soldier is?They are just just names the news commentators use when they were telling us how many warriors died for you and me. No big deal.
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Marines are Department of the Navy. We live on Navy ships.We are the human tip of the spear. We make amphibious landings.
Semper Fi, Keith...
Nice story about your uncle...A Sgt Major in the Corps was probably the most respected rank out there...Mine was a hell of a man from Tennessee, S/M Stonebocker...God rest his proud Marine soul...I was a boot brownbar and he saved my butt more than once...Thanks, Larry
Great write up!
Semper Fi, Preston
What is a Marine?
In Memory of my fallen brothers October 23, 1983 Beirut Lebanon, first Battalion Eight Marines (The Beirut Battalion) 2nd Combat Engineers In the early morning hours of 23 October 1983, a truck loaded with explosives crashed through the security perimeter of the United States Marine Corps Barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. In the explosion that followed, 241 U.S. Military personnel were killed and 80 seriously wounded. These young people, on a mission of peace in a land stricken by violence, were killed as they slept peacefully.
Beirut is where we learned to kill and where we learned to die. We never wanted to hurt anyone. I like to think of myself as a seeker of peace. However, I realized that I could not afford the luxury of second thoughts or hesitation. I knew that I may not have time to contemplate over someone's life or it could mean the loss of my life or the life of one of my brothers. That is when I made a choice deep down inside of myself. I made the choice to live.
I consciously allowed myself to become a killer. Of course, I found a way that it was justified inside of me, I would only kill killers. The fact remained the same; I was ok with killing others. I would not hesitate when confronted in such a situation. Did this mean that I had to kill some part of myself to become this way? I often felt that something had died inside of me and has yet to be resurrected. People should not be so comfortable with the thought of killing.
Upon this discovery came the understanding that I could kill came the understanding that I could also die at any time. I had to learn to die. I came to a place in my heart that my death was an acceptable sacrifice. I did not want to die, and I understood this could be the sacrifice I would have to pay; I was ok with it. I lost my fear of man and my fear of death. I found that I often had the opposite reaction to danger that others did, especially compared to non-veterans.
It was our job to be the communicators and meet anger with understanding. We were smart and well trained, that is why we had this dangerous job. We were brothers, but not by blood. We were brothers of commitment, brothers of fate, and brothers of sacrifice. We shared a bond that most people will never understand. We had been through hell together. We are Marines, defenders of liberty, yet we were normal people. We are not superheroes; we have no extra powers that make living easier or even more likely.
I have heard that to defend freedom, a person must first be willing to give up that freedom. I joined the Marines to feel that I had paid my dues to my country. I wanted to feel that I did not take my freedoms for granted. I wanted to earn my freedom. I wanted to truly appreciate liberty. I knew that I might be called upon to sacrifice for my nation. At this point, I feel fulfilled in my obligations. It is a common understanding that men die in wars. I did not know that there are many shades of gray between living and dying.
After returning home, I have often thought of myself as lucky in that I returned with my body intact. Yet sometimes I still wonder if something remains dead inside me. Is there something that I am missing? Is there something that I left behind? If so, is it something that I am still missing? Is it something that I need to be fully human?
Perhaps I had become detached from the world around me; I was detached from myself, existing without feeling. Perhaps I was traveling through life by willing myself through life. Perhaps I learned that I could not count on life's uncertainties, the unpredictable wind and waves. This could be a good way to live, never worrying about the current or the storms of life. Nevertheless, did this come at a price? Was I missing the joy and freedom of living was that what I was missing, the emotion of life?
Am I doomed to be a killer inside, a man of sorrows who is acquainted with grief, feeling no joy in my existence? Was I such a person who would ride through the storms and trials of life and never come out to enjoy the sun and joy of living? Sometimes, I feel a yearning, perhaps for that which is missing. Like a statue, left behind hoping against odds that some day I would return to live again.
On one such an occasion, I was standing to sing the National Anthem. I stood and I must admit my anticipation to sing such a noble song. Once I started singing, I was filled with that feeling of loss that I still do not quite understand. It was as if joy and pain had merged and were trying to awaken something in me. I found myself unable to continue singing. I stood there trying to maintain my composure. My face was hard against the chaos of emotion. I began to weep deeply from this unknown feeling. What have I become? I stood there silent like a statue, a warning to those who may follow my example, monument to those who have fallen. I stood there with a face of stone streaming with tears for what was, what could be and what might never be awakened again.
I have heard that death is the greatest sacrifice. I wonder what the greater sacrifice is, dying for something or living the rest of your life for it.
SF
United States Marine Corps
Combat Engineer
"The Title of Marine is earned not given!"
Our educational system has been dumbing down for years and our media isn't as informative as it is sensational and divisive. I don't expect people growing up in today's climate to know their cathole from a hole in the ground. I'll tell them and give them as much info as they will hear because I like to teach. And if that isn't enough, I tell them to watch Full Metal Jacket and they hopefully will get it then.
The term Marine is as hard to describe to a non-Marine as religion is to someone who has never gone to church. Last Summer, my teenage neighbor joined the Corps via delayed entry. I spent a long time speaking to his parents both while he was on delayed entry as well as while he was gone to boot camp. His father is a pastor who was never personally in the military and the decision was hard to explain. The process really made me think about what a Marine is. I personally retired 10 years ago so it was really reopening a lot of memories. A Marine is a unique creature. He (she) is proud, patriotic, and driven by tradition and a commitment to uphold honor of the Marines who have come before him. The brotherhood is the nations oldest fraternity. There are fewer marines at any one time than any other branch yet daily I notice that there ar far more stickers, decals, hats, t-shirts, and tatoos than any other branch. The only ones who truely know what a marine is, is a Marine or their immediate family. I grew up as an only child, but I am proud to say that even 10 years after I left service, I still have an untold number of brothers and sisters. We are all related by the common bond of being Marines. I know that this is not a complete answer but it is a few of my thoughts on the subject.
The best way i know to answer this question, is by doing exactly what you've done and soliciting other marines for their thoughts.
Semper Fi,
Gunny Hull
Semper Fi
Those who serve become transformed. It is both a loss of self, and a gaining of some spiritual stuff that is brotherhood or shared essence. With the loss of self and the gaining of the essence, and the actual torment of war, the soul is transformed. This marking, this indelible something then becomes a part of that man or woman so that they are never the same, always different. This stays with them for the entirety of their lives and beyond. And so, songs change their hearts. Wayward comments cut to the core. Offhand insults mean something different. Praise is acknowledged. Life means more, but different. And death. It has been contemplated for so long...Mazel Tov, Keith. www.hubpages.com/profile/Christofers+Flow
Thank you for your comment Christopher.
Semper Fi
Thank you
that DI in the pic is my Gunny at MCAS Miramar....Oooorah Gunny McCloud
Both of my brothers served in Nam. They both came back. I was very lucky. They weren't marines but army. My husband also served in Nam. I have the utmost respect for anyone who serves, and thank them for it!
you may want to read another hub I wrote titled a most precious gift. It discusses something that everyone who has served has given.
What is a Marine?
Any one who is one knows the answer in his heart, not just mind, but the truth is that both live together. Being a Marine is just not a title it is a way of life. Marines care about life, that's why we made the joice to try and be one. Once you are a Marine ... you will always be. You help someone, doesn't matter what.. open a door, walk and hold the arm of someone who needs it, always protect..., the ones you love, and even the ones you don't. Isn't that why we are MARINES!! honor.. love ...compassion...a sense of duty that you feel inside yourself, because when you close your eyes at night you know you have made a difference for just trying.
Semper Fiedelis to all of us
Bri
After reading this article and the part where her uncle donated his uniform to the museum just to find it in a closet on the floor. I understand he donated it but that was under the impression that it was going to be displayed. Someone please stop by and collect the uniform and give it back to the author.
Very nice. It always amazes me how little knowledge and respect members of the armed forces get.
Semper Fi.
right on!
We can't be angry at our neighbors because they don't know who we are: let's take that opportunity to explain, inform, and educate. Maybe the neighbor overheard a student friend's child who said they wanted to join?
Once regular Americans understand our story, they will spread the word. Each of us, however long ago we served, is a recruiter.
I always notice when Marines are referred to as soldiers and make a point of writing to the reporter, press agent etc and share with them what my DI told us after graduation. You are Marines. Soldiers are people in the army, sailors are people in the Navy, airmen are people in the Air Force, and I don't know what's in the Coast Guard, but you're Marines. A Marine is part of the Marine Corps, that's what you are, not any of those other names. Don't ever forget it
I noticed when Clint Eastwood was promoting his excellent movies about Iwo Jima, from both perspectives and referred to Marines as soldiers. I couldn't find him, but sent a note to the reporter quoting him to tell him to stop touring around the country shooting himself in the foot. Marines don't appreciate being referred to as soldiers.
Teresa McGurk 2 years ago
Ouch. I know how that must feel.
I started to leave a comment about how you should not mind, that it should make you proud to have served, no matter what kids think; but that's a crock -- The armed services deserve respect. The Marines and the Airforce (sorry!) in particular. A lot of respect.