The other day here at Camp Eggers I had lunch with an active duty Master Gunnery Sergeant and a retired Gunnery Sergeant who had been a drill instructor at Parris Island shortly after my own tour of duty there in the mid-‘70’s.  It is nice to swap sea stories at chow.  That's always a lot of fun.  Not surprisingly, we discussed duty on the drill field.  Parris Island is quite a place, and there is a lot of theatrics that goes into the training process.  As I jot down these often humorous reflections of military life, I seek to include any possibly important “Marine Corps Lessons Learned” (MCLL) whenever possible.  This humorous vignette has such a valuable lesson.  It describes a true incident that occurred in early 1976, when I was a Series Commander serving in the 2d Recruit Training Battalion, Recruit Training Regiment, MCRD PISC.  This Corps Story is named after a Peter Sellers movie from the mid-‘60’s, “The Mouse that Roared.”

One cold, blustery winter Saturday afternoon I had my series out at the saw dust pits for its final session of pugil stick training.  The recruits had progressed in their hand-to-hand combat training to where, IAW the lesson plan, recruits would fight 1 versus 2.

In this series I had six cousins spread-loaded among the four platoons, all big, strapping country lads from Newton Grove, N.C. The largest of the kinsmen was Private (FNU) Davis.  Pvt. Davis should have been playing linebacker in the NFL.  He bore a striking resemblance to former Marine and world heavyweight boxing champion, Ken Norton.  In the 1 v. 1 pugil stick bouts fought previously, Pvt. Davis was the undisputed champion of the saw dust ring.  As the recruits battled 1 v. 2, Davis continued to kick ass against all comers.  Finally, as the afternoon’s training was approaching its conclusion, Pvt. Davis’ senior drill instructor (SDI), then-SSgt. Dick Grainda, USMC challenged his fellow SDI’s to put any three of their recruits in the ring with Davis at the same time.  Three reluctant boots were put forth onto the sawdust, like Christians before a lion in the ancient Roman arena.  Two pretty much stood by meekly while Pvt. Davis walked up and essentially executed them with “killing” blows.  The third one ran away and Davis had to chase him around the ring to chop him down with his pugil stick.  In the sporting spirit of the event, Pvt. Davis’ platoon mates were cheering their heads off.  Private was a force of nature to be feared by mere mortals and lesser men.

We had just about run out of time for this training event when one of the other SDI’s asked permission to hold one final bout, in which he would put one of his boys up against Davis in what would be the final pugil stick bout in the recruit training of the 200 Series of Jan. – March 1976.  I looked at my watch, figured to myself, “OK, this won’t last very long”, and granted the “hat’s” request.

“Ladies and  gentlemennnnnn, in this corner, weighing in at 220#, is Prrivvaaattte Davis!’  And in this corner, weighing in at all of about 125# sopping wet is…His name escapes me after a third of a century plus, but he was one of the shortest in height Marines-to-be that I ever met.  He only stood about 5’2”, but as events proved that cold winter afternoon, he was a giant of a man! SSgt. Grainda was the officiating SNCO of this bout.  After giving the fighters the usual instructions like a referee in a boxing match, SSgt. Grainda made the two pugilists stand face-to-face, protective mask-to-mask to growl at each other while awaiting the whistle to commence the bout.  It was funny, for it sounded like a lion growling and a mouse roaring back at him.  In this case, the physically smaller fighter proved to be “The Mouse that Roared”.

All hands expected the fight to end quickly and in an undisputed, unilateral victory, and so it proved to be.  Luckily bets could not be placed like in Las Vegas on this bout, or a lot of guys would have lost some money.  When the whistle blew to begin the fight, the scared-to-death little man immediately delivered a lightning quick slashing blow that - by the rules of the game -constituted a “killing” blow, thus ending the fight almost as quickly as it began.  Like the lightning quick mongoose killing the more feared and powerful cobra, Private David “slew” Recruit Goliath. The crowd was initially stunned!  Then the victor’s platoon let out with a yell that was probably heard at MCRD San Diego.  The winner was carried off the field of battle on the shoulders of his platoon mates.  SSgt. Grainda ordered Pvt. Davis out of the saw dust pit and turned his back on the loser and stormed away.  Private Davis followed his senior with tears in his eyes, pleading for a re-match, claiming it was a fluke that could not happen again in a million years (which was probably true, but there was no time left in which to find out).  SSgt. Grainda said, “Private Davis, you’re a dead man, and I don’t talk to corpses. Get away!”  And so are the mighty fallen.

MCLL: Like the old saying goes, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight that counts, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

Semper Fi!

P.S. – Despite his unexpected loss in that last bout, Private Davis (who was meritoriously promoted to PFC upon graduation from recruit training) had all the makings of a truly great Marine, which I sincerely hope he became.  Later during Swim/Water Survival Qualifications in the Depot pool, then-Private Davis showed his character.  Most non-swimmers had to be forced into the water to overcome their natural fear of the water, which is usually very evident to the experienced eyes of their trainers.  Private Davis jumped into the pool with all the aplomb of Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps, or for us old timers, Mark Spitz before him.  Davis promptly sank straight to the bottom of the pool – where he stood at a rigid position of attention, with only a small, thin trail of bubbles rising to the surface to mark his position as he slowly exhaled.  It turns out that Private Davis was a “sinker” and not a floater, much less a swimmer.  But being the man he was, he would show no fear, nor shy away from his turn in the pool once ordered into it.  Once we realized that he had no intention of rising to the surface pleading for help like so many other non-swimmers usually do, two life guards went into the pool, swam down, and retrieved Pvt. Davis.