Last night I was a guest at a Marine Night hosted by the J-3 of USF-I, MGen Steve Hummer, USMC.  As part of the evening's festivities he promoted a Marine SSgt. to the venerable grade of Gunnery Sergeant.  In the General's remarks, he made reference to prior service in the famed 1st Marine Regiment.  His mention of the 1st Marines last night brought back many fond memories of my own, for my very first tour out of TBS was as 1st platoon commander in Lima 3/1 back in early 1973.  That was my first and best tour!  I had some great ones afterwards, but they pale compared to that one.  That also, of course, was the building block of everything else I did afterwards in the Corps.  Serving our country as a rifle platoon commander in the Marine Corps was the fulfillment of a long-cherished dream dating back to the antiquity of my youth.  One of the favorite experiences I had in that tour was when my company underwent unit training in the nowadays long defunct Amphibious Raid Course.

The pre-graduation exercise in this course was a nighttime raid of San Clemente Island, off the coast of SoCal.  San Clemente Island is to nearby, ritzy Santa Catalina Island much as MCAGCC 29 Palms, CA. is to nearby and ritzy Palm Springs - so close and yet so far!  This was "Old Corps" style training: no high speed, motorized rigid raider craft like are in the fleet today.  We used the old WW-II era "Inflatable Boats, Small" (aka IBS).  We had to pump 'em up and paddle 'em in, from ship-to-shore, and back upon completion of the mission ashore.  It was somewhat akin to an aquatic, two week Recondo Course, and it was a helluva lot of fun, as well as great training!  It was just like in that old, classic WW-II black and white war picture "Gung Ho," starring Randolph Scott (about Carlson's Raiders historic raid on Makin Island in August of 1942).

The tactic employed was for the old, also WW-II era "tin can" destroyer (DD class ship) to hove to over-the-horizon during daylight hours.  The embarked Marines would then pump up the IBS's with bicycle pumps (it takes a lot more effort than to fill up a basketball, let me tell you), lash the boats to a line, and drag them aft of the ship (the very recollection is bringing back all the nautical lingo that goes with it).  Sailors put over the side cargo nets like they came right out of "The Sands of Iwo Jima."  After dark, when it became time to embark, the Marines would pull the IBS's forward one at a time.  Seven man Marine boat crews would then board individually, shove off, and form in the darkness for the 3 mile paddle to shore to carry out the assigned mission.

As a platoon commander I was a boat team leader as well.  One member of my boat team was my platoon radio operator (R/O), Lance Corporal Richard Anderson - a super motivated, smart, fit, tough, and highly disciplined future NCO.  He had been the Honor Graduate of his series at MCRD San Diego (making him a Hollywood Marine, as MGen Hummer would say). In fact, my L/Cpl R/O in 1973 became the leader of the 1974 Super Squad competition winners. Many of his Marines had been in our platoon.  When I learned of this fact in '74 during my first of three 3d MarDiv tours in West Pac, I was very proud indeed to have commanded such fine men.  They taught me a lot. Some of them were with us in the IBS that dark and windy night asea.

The prescribed drill was for the first two Marines in each boat team to board to climb down the cargo nets, go fore and aft, kneel, and hug the net so that the light weight IBS bobbing on the surface would stay positioned aside the ship, so that no combat-laden Marines would inadvertently climb into the drink and risk death by drowning at worst, or equipment loss at best - SOP.

As I started to climb down the cargo net, I could smell some really obnoxious aromas wafting upward towards me.  I thought, "That smells like sh_t!  WTF"?!  Well, it was!  Apparently, that old class of warship had a pipe on the same side of the ship that we were disembarking from, out of which the contents of the heads/latrines could be flushed.  It was probably some crusty old CPO who deliberately hit the 'Flush' lever at just that time.  Poor, unfortunate L/Cpl Anderson was taking this miasmic effluvium right in the face!  (I never did ID that SOB sailor, but to this day I would like to - no statute of limitations on this one!)

One standing order for this type of operation is for complete silence to be maintained, as noise carries all too well over the water.  This was the only time I ever knew my R/O to disobey an order, when he quietly whispered, "For God's sake, Lieutenant, tell the others to hurry up!"  The rest of us boarded as quickly as possible, and we shoved off.  Mercifully, the open Pacific Ocean was not quite so pacific that night, and the waves we were paddling through soon washed the boat clean of that which was most definitely not on our embarkation supply list.

The point of this humorous recollection is that L/Cpl Anderson showed almost inhuman restraint and discipline (we easily forgave him his whisper, under the circumstances of literally struggling to breathe in a torrent of feces and urine), and he held on anyway!!!  He simply wouldn't allow a Marine - laden with helmet, war belt, light marching pack, and rifle - to risk climbing into the drink.  Semper Fi, Sergeant Anderson - wherever you are, I am sure you are a huge success. It was an honor to serve with you.  In the later words of then-future CMC ,General Paul X.Kelley,USMC, "Where do we get such men as this!?"

Semper Fi!