I join the Marine Corps
Volunteering for the Corps on 1 June 1941 in Omaha, Nebraska, I had not the slightest conception as to what lay ahead for me. I had been motivated to enlist by the attack on the American gunboat Panay in the Yangtze River in 1937. Helping my parents recover from the Great Depression by leaving home was also in the back of my mind.
I was also a member of the National Guard at the time - had been for three years. The Guard was very lax on qualifications -be able to walk, breath, and say "yes sir" - all for the sum of $21.00 per month (both the Guard and the Corps paid the same). I was even promised 30 days vacation each year. How could one complain with benefits like that during Depression years?
In Omaha, the recruiting sergeant presented me with a train ticket and meal tickets for travel to the San Diego Marine Corps Training Station. I was even sent "Pullman style", with first class dinners and sleeping quarters. Now that was living!
Marine
recruits train at San Diego Recruit Depot, California, in 1940. The "Boots"
are armed with
obsolete .03 caliber 1903 Springfield rifles, and are wearing World War I era
helmets and khaki uniforms.
I meet my first "Gunny" sergeant
We were greeted by one mean looking gunnery sergeant at the San Diego train station. After forming the bewildered "boots" into a makeshift formation, the "Gunny" asked, "anyone with prior service in the ranks?"
That's when I learned my first lesson: don't ever volunteer! Gunny had me come "front and center", and informed me that I was to be the platoon guide. "Do you know what a guide is supposed to do, boot?" That's when I made my second mistake. "I think so", I replied. We then all found out the meaning of "drop and ten". What a beginning!
We slept in ten-man pyramid tents with wood decking and canvas cots. Close order drill was the primary subject, along with organized calisthenics under arms. The weapon was a 1903 bolt action Springfield. We learned the parts and care of our weapon! That "weapon" (not a "gun" or "rifle") was our sleeping partner on many a night.
The food was superior to what many of us ever had at home - all "family style". Many of us served on mess duty as additional duty and received the large amount of $5.00 extra per month. That was promptly blown on "pogey-bait" (candy).
Marine training was never intended for the faint-hearted
Physical training was primarily associated with learning your General Orders by heart. Woe be to the person who by the second week didn't know his G/Os - I being among the unlucky ones! My punishment was to string cigarette butts on a spool of thread by a certain time. Even with friends helping me smoke packs of cigarettes (at 5 cents a pack), I did not make the deadline. My additional punishment was to fill my back pack with wet sand and wear it for 28 hours. I still know my General Orders.
The drill instructors, known to us as the "DIs", pushed us hard, even threatened us. Training platoons were very competitive in everything. Our platoon had to be the best, or else. One morning, our Gunny marched us to the brig. One squad at a time entered this fearful establishment. We sat in a cell and had the hatch slammed and locked. Each squad spent ten minutes in there and listened to a lecture on P&P. "P&P" is Marine jargon for brig time on a diet of bread and water. P&P was what was going to happen to us if our platoon failed in any way in winning top honors at the end of the three month training period.
We were taught the basics: map reading, how to box a compass, work together to achieve a goal, become proficient on the .03 (Springfield rifle), .45 caliber pistol, .30 caliber MG (machine-gun), grenades, bayonets and "hand-to-hand". There were times in the middle of the night when the DI would wake us up and order us to pack up for an extended time in the "boonies". The first week you were taught what was to be in that pack. The wrath of "you know who" would be all over you if you failed to have the complete requirements within. At the end of the march, some three to fours hours later, we would be told to "prepare for inspection." The SOP was to empty your pack and lay the contents out on your poncho, identical to the picture in the manual.
One poor soul named Helms had newspaper in his pack, nothing else. When the Gunny came by for inspection not one word was said to him. The DI just went on as if Helms was not there. When we were told to pack up, and prepare to march back to our tents, our route took us to the brig. Helms was told to fall out and report to the turnkey. His weapon and bayonet were taken from him in front of the platoon. The expression on his face was all about dread. He was led into the brig and locked in a cell. We then came into the brig one at a time, told Helms goodbye, and left.
Helms received P&P that night and the next morning. Gunny brought him back the next day just before noon lunch. Helms spoke about his time in the pokey, of lost sleep, and "sweep & swab" all night long. Training was severe, and sometimes we thought combat would be easier than three months under this Gunny.
My graduation from Boot Camp
I still have my graduating basic platoon picture. As sure as I am sitting here typing this to you all, had it not been for our gunnery sergeant's dedication to us (which we could not realize at the time), I and many others would not be here today.
The last day we were in full greens - spit and polish. All the training platoons were to "pass in review". Full band, colors, reviewing stand with VIPs -and our platoon was the color guard. As we formed up that morning, Gunny called me "front and center" and asked, "Marine, do you know the duties of a guidon bearer?" My reply was, "yes, Gunny, I do!" He then placed the guidon in my hands and said, "take your post, Marine."
In my life to date, there were many times I felt proud of my accomplishments, but this honor, as the Gunny ordered me to be the platoon's guide to pass in review, was without a doubt the proudest moment that I can recall.
By the way--Helms graduated with honors and was later recommended for Officer Candidates School.
After graduating from Boot Camp, I was assigned to the 2d Marine Division, 10th Marines HDQ. We left San Diego for Midway just before Christmas 1941.
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