Piloting Life: One Man’s Reflections on Life and the Lessons He Learned.
By Carey Hobbs with Melinda Seibert.
Published by CJ Books. 440 pages.
“Piloting Life: One Man’s Reflections on Life and the Lessons He Learned” are the reminiscences of Carey Hobbs, a former Marine aviator who leveraged the lessons he learned from flying jets into a very successful business career.
Hobbs entered the Naval Aviation Cadet program in 1958. Graduating in the top 10 percent of his preflight class, Hobbs was “given the option to choose either the Navy or the Marine Corps”—and chose the Marine Corps. “I opted for the Marines, believing my chances of flying jets were better there since they had fewer helicopters and helicopter pilots compared to the Navy at that time.”
He flew the A-4 Skyhawk, a single-engine Navy and Marine Corps light attack aircraft. To me, the most interesting part of Hobbs’ book is how dangerous it was to fly military jets in peacetime during the early 1960s. Twice, Hobbs was on the verge of ejecting. The first time, he was flying toward San Francisco when his engine lost power. Right before ejecting, his engine suddenly spun up, and he made it back safely. The other time, he was practicing low-altitude ground support in Yuma, Ariz. His cockpit heated up so much that he could feel heat when he touched the left console. Though worried the “ejection seat might cook off at any minute, and [he’d] be launched out,” he safely made it back to Marine Corps Air Station El Toro, Calif. A hose had come loose, and “700-degree bleed air from the engine was seeping into the cockpit.”
Additionally, one morning, two of Hobbs’ squadron mates were killed when they collided with a 700-foot mountain at the end of the El Toro runway, resulting in both planes exploding. In another incident, Hobbs was “the designated leader” for a flight returning from “air-to-air gunnery training” when he glanced over his left wing and “saw a massive ball of black smoke rising into the sky.” The pilot “had attempted a roll, which led to the fatal accident.” Keep in mind these were all peacetime accidents in the United States during routine training.
What made Hobbs a successful jet pilot also made him a successful businessman. He wrote that being a successful Naval aviator “demands risk, resilience, and the willingness to make course correc-tions along the way,” and he utilized these attributes to build his business career. For over 50 years, he was successful in a variety of industries, including air filters, “producing insulation for outer-wear,” manufacturing acoustic and thermal insulation for vehicles,” producing “quilt batting” (the internal material in a quilt) and trucking. He was not 100 percent successful—one time a trusted employee turned him into OSHA and other times suppliers and/or buyers reneged on promises and contracts. But by focusing on quality and building personal relationships rather than profits, Hobbs’ company was able to adapt and reinvent. “When one market failed,” he wrote, “we moved on to the next opportunity.”
“Piloting Life: One Man’s Reflections on Life and the Lessons He Learned” is worth reading for anyone interested in Marine attack aviation in the early 1960s or those who want to read about how one Marine leveraged his military experience into a successful civilian career.
Maj Skip Crawley, USMCR (Ret)
Reviewer’s bio: Maj Skip Crawley was an infantry officer assigned to 1st Battalion, 7th Marines, in Desert Shield/Desert Storm. He is currently the Marine for Life Central Region Network Coordinator based in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area.
USMC Tank Markings in the Pacific.
By Romain Cansiere.
Casemate Publishers. 160 pages.
Deciphering Marine Corps vehicle markings has been a challenge for many historians, hobbyists and enthusiasts pretty much since the end of World War II. Romain Cansiere’s “USMC Tank Markings in the Pacific” is the first comprehensive look at Marine tank markings ever compiled, and Mr. Cansiere has hit a home run with it.
With each unit having its own chapter, he addresses all the Marine tank units that saw combat in WW II, not just the six numbered tank battalions. From the elephant-marked M4A2 Shermans of Company C, I Marine Amphibious Corps’ medium tank battalion that landed on Tarawa to the Tank Company, 4th Marines, Cansiere leaves no stone unturned.
The book is well illustrated with many never before published images of Marine tanks. Most photos are in black and white, but there are color photos interspersed throughout to give a bit of original color where possible. In addition to the photos, each chapter has artist renderings of the unit’s tanks in accurate colors and markings.
The book also gives a concise oper-ational history of each unit. It covers their major operations, their transitions between tank types and the improved capabilities that came with those new tanks. Although only appearing in a few chapters, one of the best features in the book is the inclusion of tables that outline tactical numbers, names and where the tanks were assigned within the unit. The 4th Tank Battalion information is absolutely outstanding.
The appendices cover Marine tank unit organization for light and medium tank companies and battalions, as well as aerial recognition markings used by Marine tanks in combat. Overall, this book is a phenomenal resource that fills in the blanks not only on Marine tank markings but the organization and structure of Marine armored units from WW II. I cannot recommend this book highly enough for Marine tank enthu-siasts, modelers and WW II buffs.
Jonathan Bernstein
Reviewer’s bio: Jonathan Bernstein is the arms and armor curator at the National Museum of the Marine Corps. He is the 2023 winner of the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation Robert D. Heinl Jr. Award for Marine Corps History. In addition to a 35-year museum career, he also served as an aviation officer in the 1st Battalion, 104th Aviation Regiment, as an AH-64 pilot from 2006-2012 and focuses his research on the evolution of close air support and combined arms warfare. He lives in Virginia with his wife and two sons.
@SemperRead Recommends…
“Armies Afloat: How the Development of Amphibious Operations in Europe Helped Win World War II.”
By John M. Curatola. Published by University Press of Kansas. 376 pages. Military History/World War II.
Most people think of D-Day and picture the landing itself. Curatola focuses on what had to happen before that moment was even possible. “Armies Afloat” is less about one famous beach and more about the long, hard process of teaching the U.S. Army, Navy and Army Air Forces how to work together in amphibious war. He shows us that Normandy was not just courage under fire. It was the product of years of trial, failure, adaptation and coordination.
Curatola tracks the war from North Africa to Sicily, Salerno, Anzio, Normandy, and southern France, showing how each operation exposed weaknesses in command relationships, ship-to-shore movements, naval gunfire, air support, beach organization, logistics and communication. The Army may not get the same attention as the Marines in conversations about amphibious warfare, but this book makes clear just how much of that burden it carried in Europe.
Landing craft, naval fires, air cover, engineers, beach parties and follow-on logistics all had to come together under pressure. Curatola does a solid job of showing how rough some of the early efforts were and how quickly the American forces adjusted.
“Armies Afloat” reads as both history and a study in adaptation. It reminds you that success on the beaches was earned by a willingness to persevere—long before the ramps dropped.
“D-Day in the Pacific: The Battle of Saipan.”
By Harold J. Goldberg. Published by Indiana University Press. 276 pages. Military History/World War II.
Harold J. Goldberg’s “D-Day in the Pacific” shifts the spotlight away from Normandy and places it where it equally belongs: Saipan. While the world watched Europe in June 1944, Marines and soldiers in the Pacific were fighting a battle that would quietly decide the fate of the war against Japan.
Goldberg does a solid job of showing why Saipan mattered. It was part of Japan’s inner defense line, and its loss forced Japanese leadership to confront something they had avoided for years: Defeat was no longer a distant possibility. For the United States, capturing Saipan and nearby Tinian opened the door for B-29 bombers to reach the Japanese homeland. From that point forward, the war was no longer contained to distant islands.
This book captures the brutal nature of amphibious warfare; the coordination between sea, air and ground forces; and the relentless resistance from Japanese defenders who understood exactly what was at stake.
This account is a reminder that while one D-Day dominates public memory, another was unfolding across the Pacific, one that brought the war to Japan’s doorstep and changed its outcome for good.
2ndLt Steven Ramirez is the Marine behind the Instagram account @SemperRead. The self-described “unofficial librarian” for the Marine Corps, Ramirez is sharing reviews of some of his favorites with Leatherneck readers in his new regular department, @SemperRead Recommends. This month’s recommendations highlight the invasion of Normandy and the Battle of Saipan, both of which were fought 82 years ago this month.
Double Knot.
By Mac Caltrider.
Published by Dead Reckoning Collective.175 pages.
Throughout the global war on terror the publishing world experienced a deluge of veteran memoirs and biographies as publishers and bookstores frenzied to monetize there-I-was storytelling from the loose wallets of insatiable combat voyeurs. There are books written by those who served in Iraq, Afghanistan, Iraq again, Afghanistan again and in Iraq again-again during the fight against ISIS. There are so many, a ChatGPT search may not give you a definitive number. Some are good, a few are great, but most … not so much. Of these in the majority category, the primary theme being examined is the desire to advertise how badass they or their unit were. A very small number dare to explore themes that go beyond combat and the establishment of a post-military career as a podcast host. “Double Knot” by Mac Caltrider is one of them.
First and foremost, “Double Knot” is beautifully written. Caltrider sets it apart from other memoirs because of its interiority and willingness to be introspective. Not in a performative way, but in a way that shows the complexity of life. In a way that does not confine itself to a good-versus-evil narrative by showing us dy-nam-ic characters thriving and strug-gling in chaos. It also shows us how war con-tinues to be omnipresent in someone’s life once it is introduced.
It is clear Caltrider is trying to move beyond simply retelling his experiences into a space that explores the totality of the human experience of combat: what it does to someone before, during, and after, and to ask the question, What does the axiom “combat changes you” actually mean? In the last chapter, “Going Cigaretting,” Caltrider recalls an evening with one of his favorite authors. “Most military memoirs, he points out, are really just combat books. They tell stories of men under fire, the hardships they endure and the sacrifices they make. But combat is just a fraction of the machine. A real war book must include more. It can’t ignore the destroyed families and the wasted youth swept up in war’s category five winds.”
“Double Knot” breaks the war memoir paradigm at every turn, including the form. Most tend to have a single, chronological narrative that follows the development of the protagonist as a young, testosterone-filled rapscallion who just needs to feel part of a team into the consummate team player who is able to achieve individual glory while still hav-ing the humility to acknowledge they owe everything to their buddies (but they’re keeping the medals). Caltrider presents his story as seven essays that interweave his pre-Marine Corps life with his time on active duty with his life after serving. Each essay can stand alone, but they are also in conversation with one another. For example, his friend Cavalier appears in multiple essays, and although it is not necessary to have read the previous essays to understand the context, the full impact of Cavalier in Caltrider’s life is much more significant when following him through each one.
“Double Knot” offers something to active-duty servicemembers and veterans alike. Caltrider skillfully overlays the mundane onto the chaotic in his depictions of combat while tracing its continued influence in his life as a Baltimore police officer on the beat, journalist cov-ering a USO tour and backpacker attempting to summit Mount Rainier. He takes readers on a journey where they will find themselves laughing, gasping and crying—often on the same page. Ultimately, “Double Knot” may not resolve the tensions it presents, but it does not need to; its value lies in forcing the reader to sit with them.
Maj Vic Ruble, USMC (Ret)
Reviewer’s bio: Maj Vic Ruble, USMC (Ret), is the deputy editor of Marine Corps Gazette and the host of the MCA’s Scuttlebutt podcast.
U.S. Marine Participation in the Normandy Campaign
The World War II Allied landing in Normandy, France, known as Operation Overlord, is undoubtedly the most famous amphibious landing in American history, and soldiers seldom let Marines forget it was conducted by the United States Army rather than by America’s premier amphibious force: the Marine Corps. However, leathernecks did support Operation Overlord; Marines served aboard U.S. Navy cruisers and battleships as members of each ship’s complement, as observers with various Allied forces, and on the naval staffs which helped plan the invasion. Marines also served in the covert Allied teams put together by the British Special Operations Executive (SOE), the U.S. Office of Strategic Services (OSS) and the Free French Bureau Central de Renseignements et d’Action (the intelligence service) that sought to sow confusion and chaos be-hind German lines during the campaign. However, the largest contribution of the Marine Corps to the Normandy campaign was the American amphibious doctrine and training which enabled the campaign in the first place.
Amphibious Doctrine and Training
In the opening decades of the 20th century, the Marine Corps chose for its raison d’être the seizure and defense of advanced naval bases in support of fleet operations. Then the First World War illustrated, especially through the Dardanelles campaign of 1915, the great difficulties inherent in making an amphibious assault upon strongly held and fortified beaches. Nonetheless, after the war, the Corps persisted in examining how to best succeed at taking such beaches. In the immediate post-Great War period, Major Earl H. “Pete” Ellis, supported by Major General Commandant John A. Lejeune, produced a systemic approach to the problem of getting forces ashore against resistance for the Pacific with “Operation Plan 712, Advanced Base Operations in Micronesia.” The document looked at what would be required operationally for the Marine Corps to properly support War Plan Orange, the plan for a war against Japan should it be necessary.
Ellis’ operations plan was a step forward, but it was short on detail. What was needed was a doctrine that would convert the strategic and operational visions into a tactical plan for achieving a landing and sustainable bridgehead on a hostile, defended shore. In 1933, the Marine Corps turned seriously to confront this problem. Marine Corps schools’ classes were canceled, and the students and staff worked instead to produce the “Tentative Landing Operations Manual” published in 1935, which became the Navy’s “Fleet Training Publication 167” and which the Army copied for its own amphibious warfare training document, “FM #31-5, Landing Operations on a Hostile Shore”(June 2, 1941).
In a 1966 letter sent to Thomas Parsons, Major General Robert Bare, one of the Marines involved in planning Operation Overlord, remarked on the limited interest that the Army had expressed in amphibious operations prior to World War II: “At the beginning of World War II, the only two nations in the world with an amphibious doctrine were the United States and Japan. … [When] I was a student at the Army Command & General Staff School at Leavenworth in 1938-1939, the course in Amphib operations was about six hours, taught by a Coast Artillery lieutenant colonel who one day in exasperation at trying to explain landing schedules and boat diagrams, said, ‘If you really want to learn something about this get ahold of a good Marine Corps sergeant and have him explain it.’”
In addition to developing doctrine and manuals, the Corps’ extensive study of previous amphibious landings indicated that for a modern force, new assault craft were needed. Modern, mechanized military forces needed to deploy swiftly from ships during an amphibious assault in order to survive in the face of modern firepower. The 19th-century style boats that the world’s navies had previously used for ship to shore assaults were ill-suited for speedy debarkation. The Marine Corps pushed the Navy to begin testing new small craft for
Beach defenses on Normandy, May 6, 1944. (Photo courtesy of USMC History Division)
landing operations in 1935, and this process led eventually to Andrew Higgins’ “Eureka” boat in 1940, though this boat was still awkward to disembark. Then, in April 1941, Marine Major Ernest E. Linsert shared with Higgins a series of photo-graphs taken by then-First Lieutenant Victor H. Krulak during a Japanese amphibious assault in Shanghai during 1937.
The pictures clearly illustrated Japanese landing boats with a bow ramp, a concept that Higgins was able to marry successfully to his Eureka boat design. The improvement resulted in the famous “Higgins Boat” Landing Craft Vehicle, Personnel (LCVP) that would become ubiquitous in all amphibious landings conducted by the Western allies during World War II. Similarly, Higgins produced the landing craft, mechanized (LCM), allowing for the rapid debarkation of heavy equipment on the beach as well.
Along with doctrine and equipment, troops had to train for amphibious assaults. In 1941, the First Joint Training Force was established under the Atlantic Fleet to train Army, Navy and Marine Corps units that would conduct amphibious assaults during World War II. Marine Major General Holland M. Smith commanded the force. The Army’s 1st Infantry Division, which would eventually land on Omaha Beach at Normandy, received its initial amphibious warfare training here.
The Army did take issue with certain aspects of Marine amphibious training, some of which stemmed from the differing purposes of amphibious landings. The Army saw an amphibious assault as merely the initial phase of a much longer, more extensive land campaign, whereas the Marine Corps was focused on seizing bases for continuing naval campaigns. Army doctrine therefore rejected the Navy and Marine Corps’ suggestions that the Army form lighter divisions devoted solely to amphibious warfare, choosing instead to provide amphibious training to regular troops. Beginning in 1942, the Army developed its own amphibious training centers that operated throughout the rest of the war.
Planning for Overlord
Colonel Robert O. Bare arrived in London in June 1943 and joined the Navy section of the staff of British Lieutenant General Sir Frederick E. Morgan. Morgan had recently, in the wake of the Casablanca Conference, been appointed Chief of Staff to the Supreme Allied Commander (COSSAC), although there was yet no Supreme Allied Commander appointed. Morgan’s appointment was intended, at least partially, as a sop to the Americans after the Casablanca Conference postponed the European landing until 1944. However, the COSSAC staff did much of the preliminary planning that was required for the actual Normandy campaign.
Along with Bare, the American portion of the staff included Navy Captain Gordon Huchins and five other Sailors. Bare was appointed staff officer, plans, whose duties included selecting training areas for the landing and naval gunfire exercises. Bare said in an interview, “It was fascinating work, since I was in on all the most secret dope, and had an opportunity to travel in seeking out training areas, and visiting various military commands and installations in working out the intricate combined plans.”
In October 1943 Bare participated in a COSSAC test run for the cross-channel invasion, “a fake invasion of the Pas da Calais” that involved “a lot of fighter aircraft up in the air and trying to draw those Germans out into a big air battle. So they set up a lot of dummy craft and a lot of real craft, and a naval officer and I were allowed to go down and board a British destroyer and we headed right straight for the Pas da Calais with this outfit that looked like a little good-sized invasion. And we went over within 10 miles of the coast, and we didn’t draw a single round of fire, there was no air action, and they found out through intelligence that the Germans had really thought this was something, but they flew two reconnaissance flights, one to the north and one to the South—they couldn’t see anything else so they went back home.”
Col Robert O. Bare, was the strategist for Operation Overlord’s naval gunfire and training.
Several other Marines were involved in the planning for D-Day. Col Richard H. Jeschke had already seen a great deal of the war when he arrived in Britain to rejoin the staff of the Western Naval Task Force as assistant planning officer and joint operations officer. He previously commanded the 8th Marines defending Samoa and through the Battle of Guadalcanal, then transferred to the Mediterranean where he participated in the invasion of Sicily as a Force Marine operations and training officer. Colonel James E. Kerr served as the training officer, Landing Craft and Bases, 11th Amphibious Force, Europe, supervising the training of the personnel for landing craft and ships for the invasion through the planning and preparation for the landing. Col William T. Clement arrived in late 1942 and set up the intelligence section of Naval Forces, Europe, com-manded by Admiral Harold R. Stark. Major Louis H. King served as the assistant plans and operations officer for Commander Group 3, 8th Amphibious Force, according to Marine Corps History Division documents.
A Marine aboard USS Texas assists in processing prisoners of war off Pointe du Hoc, near Omaha Beach, 1944.(Courtesy of National Archives)
Serving as the Joint Operations Officer, Col Richard H. Jeschke, second from right, went ashore at Normandy with Army LTG Omar Bradley, left, and MajGen J. Lawton Collins to coordinate the push inland.(Courtesy of USMC History Division)
Preparing the Battlefield
Other Marines prepared the battlefield more directly for the Normandy campaign. They were members of the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), a young wartime organization that drew its members from civilian society as well as the Army, Navy and Marine Corps. It was intended as an intelligence and covert operations organization. The OSS began its European operations in 1942 with Operation Torch and had been cooperating with the various British agencies ever since, preparing for the cross-channel invasion.
In the months immediately preceding the invasion, the American OSS, the British Special Operations Executive and the Free French Bureau Central de Renseignements et d’Action put together teams to enter France and contact various groups of La Résistance, which comprised factions of disparate political views and motivations, not all of which were friendly to General Charles de Gaulle’s organization. The British and the French had been working withLa Résistance since 1940; now multinational teams went into France to prepare these groups for the shift from conducting sabotage and saving Allied pilots to enacting armed uprisings intended to hinder German movement and draw enemy forces away from the main fields of action. Several of these missions included Marines.
The first mission in support of the Normandy campaign that included Ma-rines was an inter-Allied mission des-ignated ‘Union’ and organized under the auspices of the special operations execu-tive RF section (the section responsible for activities in France). The team was led by Pierre Fourcaud, a French operative who had already been in and out of France multiple times, and contained an experienced British SOE agent, H. H. A. Thackwaite and an experienced French wireless operator, ‘Monnier.’ The team’s fourth member was Captain Peter J. Ortiz, a Marine who had been fighting the war since 1940. A full recounting of Ortiz’ remarkable career in World War II is beyond the scope of this article, but he had been a member of the Foreign Legion, captured by the Germans, escaped, and enlisted in the Corps in 1942. He was assigned to the OSS and deployed to North Africa during Operation Torch before coming to Britain to prepare for Operation Overlord.
The Union mission was tasked with infiltrating the Haute Savoie region of south-eastern France and evaluating the resistance there, impressing upon its leaders that “organization for guerrilla warfare activity, especially after D-Day, is now their more important duty.” The team parachuted into the region on Jan. 6, 1944, and began their mission. Unlike previous missions of this type, they brought along their uniforms to emphasize the military nature of the mission. SOE historian M.R.D. Foot later wrote that, “Ortiz, who knew not fear, did not hesitate to wear his U.S. Marine Captain’s uniform in town and country alike; this cheered the French but alerted the Germans, and the mission was constantly on the move.”
One, possibly apocryphal, story from this mission described how Ortiz “strolled into a cafe dressed in a long cape. Several Germans were drinking and cursing the maquis. One mentioned the fate which would befall the ‘filthy American swine’ when he was caught. This proved a great mistake. Captain Ortiz threw back the cape revealing his Marine uniform. In each hand he held a .45 automatic [pistol]. When the shooting stopped, there were fewer Nazis to plan his capture and Ortiz was gone into the night.”
Maj Ortiz operated behind enemy lines to arm French resistance against German occupiers. (USMC)
The members of the Union mission were very successful at organizing French guerrillas, especially on the Vercours plateau, which the Germans attempted to seal off with three battalions in February. Despite the German efforts, the Union members continued to organize the resistance fighters until May 1944, when they were withdrawn from the country. Ortiz received the first of his two Navy Crosses for this mission, the citation reading in part, “By his tact, resourcefulness and leadership, he was largely instrumental in affecting the acceptance of the mission by local resistance leaders, and also in organizing parachute operations for the delivery of arms, ammunition and equipment for use by the Maquis in his region. Although his identity had become known to the Gestapo with the resultant increase in personal hazard, he voluntarily conducted to the Spanish border four Royal Air Force officers who had been shot down in his region and later returned to resume his duties. Repeatedly leading successful raids during the period of this assignment, Major Ortiz inflicted heavy casualties on enemy forces greatly superior in number, with small losses to his own forces.”
Standing with the members of the French Maquis, Maj Peter Ortiz, center, wore his Marine uniform in occupied France to boost French morale, 1944.(USMC)
Marines on and off the Beaches
On D-Day, hundreds of Marines were off the beaches, most of them serving aboard the Navy battleships and cruisers of the bombardment forces. The demands of the Fleet Marine Force, especially in the Pacific, had heavily reduced the size of the Marine ship detachments by this date. However, substantial numbers of Marines still served in the oldest role of the Marine Corps.
Marine Ship Detachments, Operation Overlord
Marines in ship detachments filled a variety of roles aboard ship; they performed a ceremonial function, especially on flagships, and acted as orderlies, guards and sentries. Additionally, particularly important for the Normandy invasion, they acted as gunners for the 5-inch, 40 mm and 20 mm ship’s guns. By 1944, there was a tendency to assign Marines to antiaircraft batteries (especially the 20 mm batteries), but on many ships Marines still manned the 5-inch secondary batteries. At Normandy, according to one uncorroborated source, “Marines in their capacity as expert riflemen, played a vital role reminiscent of the days of the sailing Navy when Marines in the ‘fighting top’ were a significant part of the ship’s offensive firepower. Stationed in the superstructures of the invasion fleet, Marine sharpshooters exploded floating mines in the ship’s paths.”
USS Arkansas (BB-33) supported the D-Day landings on Omaha beach alongside USS Texas (BB-35), suffering some return fire and air attacks over the next few days but endured no hits. On June 25, 1944, she shifted off of Cherbourg where she supported the Allied assault on the port. Shore battery fire straddled her several times off Cherbourg, but she was not hit. Captain Robert V. Allen commanded her Marine detachment and also served as commander of the Arkansas’ 20 mm antiaircraft battery, manned by the Marine detachment.
The USS Texas shelled Omaha Beach on D-Day, acting especially in support of the U.S. Army Rangers assaulting Pointe du Hoc. The USS Texas supported the landings for two more days, then retired to Plymouth to replenish ammunition before returning to support the Allied forces fighting their way out of the beachhead. On June 25, 1944, she joined USS Arkansas in the naval bombardment of Cherbourg; she was less fortunate than Arkansas, however, as a German shore battery struck her twice with 9.2-inch shells. One was a dud; it failed to explode and was later removed safely from the ship. However, the other struck the conning tower, severely damaging the bridge where it killed the helmsman and wounded 11 other Sailors. Capt Allen A. Bernard commanded Texas’ Marine detachment, which also manned some of her gun batteries. First Lieutenant Weldon B. James from public relations, Marine Detachment, U.S. Naval Forces in Europe, observed the landings from USS Texas.
An artillery shell falls between USS Texas, in the background, and USS Arkansas during thebombardment of Cherbourg, France, June 25, 1944. (Courtesy of National Archives)
USS Nevada (BB-36) provided naval gunfire support to the forces landing at Normandy. Sunk by the Japanese during the Pearl Harbor attack, the ship was later salvaged, modernized, and returned to service. On June 8, she fired 70 shells from her main battery upon an estimated 110 German vehicles and tanks concentrated at a range of 23,500 yards and reportedly damaged or destroyed all of them. Like the other American battleships, she participated in the naval bombardment of Cherbourg on June 25. German shore battery fire came close to the vessel 20 times, but she was never hit. Her Marine detachment was commanded by Captain Alexander W. Chilton. The officers and Marines of the detachment operated the 20 mm antiaircraft batteries.
The heavy cruiser USS Augusta (CA-31) served as the flagship of Rear Admiral Alan G. Kirk, USN, Commander Western Naval Task Force, during the Normandy invasion and carried Lieutenant General Omar N. Bradley, Commanding General, U.S. First Army, to the invasion. Bradley and his staff went ashore on June 10 to establish their headquarters in Normandy. Captain Francis P. Schlesinger commanded Augusta’s Marine detachment, who manned the cruiser’s antiaircraft battery.
USS Quincy (CA-71) was a new ship, and Operation Overlord was her first combat operation. She provided gunfire support to the troops on Utah beach, firing hundreds of shells over several days against German troop concentrations and shore batteries. The vessel then participated in the naval bombardment of Cherbourg, where she endured close misses from Battery Hamburg’s 11-inch guns. Capt Wesley R. Christie commanded her Marine detachment.
Like the other cruisers and battleships at Normandy, USS Tuscaloosa (CA-37) supported the landing forces at Normandy and participated in the bombardment of Cherbourg. She was known as a lucky ship that escaped fierce battles unharmed, despite sailing through war zones from 1939 onward. Capt Kenneth C. Greenough commanded her Marine detachment, which serviced her AA battery as well as some of her 5-inch guns. According to Marine Corps History Division’s records, the single Marine casualty of D-Day was aboard Tuscaloosa: Private First Class Norman O. Violette, a 5-inch gun striker, whose gun fired so many rounds on D-Day that he suffered deafness and a concussion.
In addition to the Marine detachments fighting from Navy ships, several Marine observers were present during the invasion. Prior to the Normandy landings, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, Lieutenant General Alexander A. Vandegrift, ordered two of the Marines on the planning staffs—Colonels Bare and Kerr—to accompany the invasion and observe operations and note lessons that could be incorporated into Marine operations. In addition, combat correspondent Capt Herbert C. Merillat reported on the landings with the Royal Marines and Col Jeshke, the Joint Operations officer of Task Force 122 and the 1st U.S. Army, took a small staff ashore as he performed his duties.
At Utah beach, Colonel Kerr observed the landings and served on the staff of Rear Admiral Don P. Moon, commander of “U” Force. Late in the morning of June 6 there was a delay in landing forces on Utah and RADM Moon ordered Col Kerr towards shore in a patrol craft (PC-484)
Landing craft protected by destroyers heading to beach off the coast of France on D-Day. (Courtesy of National Archives)
Forward guns of USS Nevada (BB-36) fire on positions ashore during the landings on Utah Beach, June 6, 1944. (Courtesy of National Archives)
to investigate the delay and take control of the landing craft traffic. Kerr soon reported that, “Landings can be made anywhere on Red Beach … obstacles no longer obstacles.” As a result of his intelligence gathering, landing craft waiting to go to Green Beach were diverted and the landing delays decreased.
Kerr gave a bit more description in his diary concerning conditions on Utah beach over the next few days as he continued to aid in the landing of troops. On D-Day he remarked, “Shelling on Red Beach was intermittent all day long, reaching a climax around 1700.” He added that “German artillery was without observation, maybe as many as 90% of their shells fell between the craft and the sea wall.” And “men on beaches hugged seawall so shells did not harm them … work was carried on between bursts and lulls.” On D+1, Kerr reported that he “landed on beach. So no beached LCVTs as all had gotten off with tide.” Kerr continued sorting out the chaos off the beach, getting men and equipment ashore and the wounded evacuated. Remarkably, on D+2, at 2100, he recounted that an officer from the beach reported more than 1,000 prisoners taken, including two Japanese. On D+4, he took a break from shuttling around the waters off the beach and took a jeep from Utah beach to St. Mere Eglise, evaluating the roads for traffic from the beaches. Kerr continued to work at unscrambling the Utah beach unloading area through D+6, according to Kerr’s war diary.
As is well known, Omaha beach was a difficult fight and for a few hours, the outcome was in doubt. On this beach, Colonel Jeshke led a small team of Marines on the staff of Task Force 122 and the 1st U.S. Army, where he served as the Joint Operations officer. Alongside Jeshke were Staff Sergeant Edward F. McKnew, Jr., Corporals John B. Flowers and Louis R. Grall, and Privates First Class Robert C. Hunter, William C. Parsons and Benjamin J. Williams. Marine Corps History Division records show that from June 6 through June 30, these Marines acted as orderlies, battle phone recorders and situation map updaters, making numerous trips ashore during the amphibious assault.
Jeshke made “15 trips ashore to ascertain actual position of army front lines.” Afterwards, he told reporters that “shell and mortar fire on D-Day at Normandy was little short of terrific,” but that his own “moments of greatest anxiety came during the [Japanese] naval gun shelling of Marine positions on Guadalcanal.” He added that fighting in Europe was more comfortable than in the Pacific, as Europe had “fine roads, big buildings and civilization.” He admitted that roads were not “the healthiest places to travel along, particularly with mines and lines of fire” but insisted that “any kind of road is preferable to pathless jungle.” According to a press release issued on Oct. 26, 1944, Col Jeshke was awarded the Legion of Merit for his efforts in the Normandy campaign, and the French government presented him with the Croix de Guerre.
Two Marine officers observed the landings on the British beaches. Capt Herbert C. Merillat, a combat correspondent who had previously served on Guadalcanal was accompanied by two other Marine journalists, Technical Sergeant Richard T. Wright and combat photographer Staff Sergeant James R. Kilpatrick. They went to Normandy with the Royal Marines in a landing craft, guns, large (LCG), a tank landing craft converted into floating artillery platforms in order to engage German pillboxes and bunkers. They were crewed by Sailors and the guns manned by Royal Marines, and the Marine correspondents were off Juno beach, where the Canadian forces were landing. Comparing Normandy with Guadalcanal, Merillat was impressed with the number and variety of craft employed in the much more massive Normandy operation. German return fire in the early morning damaged some of the LCGs, TSgt Wright pitched in, firing “twin Oerlikon guns” at beach targets. Merillat’s closest call came that night, as the LCGs stood sentry against possible German schnellboote attacks when a Junkers Ju 88 attacked the flotilla and was shot down. Merillat’s vessel was forced to drive through the wreckage. Reflecting 50 years later, Merillat stated that, “We could not claim to have contributed much if anything to the victory, but we were pleased that we had been able to witness at close quarters one of the greatest battles in history.”
Col Bare was the other Marine officer observing the British landings, on board the Llangibby Castle, a veteran British troop ship. Bare landed with the 3rd Canadian Division and spent 10 days in Normandy observing British operations. He recalled in an interview that the trip over was uneventful, “I can remember seeing a mine go floating by the side of our vessel—it looked about the size of the Lincoln Memorial. It was terribly rough—rougher than they liked—and I think that was one of the reasons that the Germans were somewhat surprised. They were basically a land animal, and they couldn’t see a big invasion taking off in weather like that.” But General Bernard Montgomery’s hostility to observers following the troops forced Col Bare to remain within about a mile of the beach. After 10 days, Bare departed Normandy and returned to the United States via Great Britain, where he reported to the Commandant on the landings before heading to the Pacific.
Remote controlled German Doodle Bug tanks, filled with explosives, served as a beach defense. (Courtesy of USMC History Division)
German blockhouse, Bernier Sur Mer, France, June 1944. (Courtesy of USMC History Division)
Supporting the Campaign
The landings at Normandy were only the start of the campaign, however. Operations behind the lines elsewhere in France now began in earnest as La Résistance forces increased their work of sabotage and guerilla warfare against German forces throughout France. The Allies that supported these efforts were the famous Jedburgh Teams, or combined allied military teams of American, British and French officers, who were sent to aid local forces. One of these was Jedburgh Team Buggati, commanded by Marine Maj Horace W. Fuller. His fellow ‘Jeds’ were French Army Captain Guy de la Roche, British Major Hiram Crosby and French Lieutenant Marcel Guillemont. On June 28, this team parachuted into the Hautes-Pyrenees region of occupied France and began organizing and leading local groups in sabotage, terrorist and guerilla actions against a wide variety of enemy targets throughout the region. Before their mission formally ended on Sept. 15, Fuller’s force liberated several towns, captured hundreds of German prisoners and rendered an oil refinery useless without destroying its equipment by cutting off its water supply, according to the book “Herringbone Cloak: GI Dagger Marines of the OSS.” Fuller himself was awarded the Silver Star for the mission.
The other mission was less successful, though no less dramatic. Despite only leaving France in May, Capt Ortiz was eager to return to the Haute Savoie region and aid the guerillas he had left behind there. He was placed in command of another inter-allied mission, Union II, which included Army Air Corps Captain John Coolidge and five more Marines: Gunnery Sergeant Robert La Salle, and Sergeants Charles Perry, John Bodnar, Fred Brunner and Jack Risler. Also along was a Free French officer, Joseph Arcelin.
Unlike the previous Union mission, Union II was intended as a heavily armed Operational Group and dropped with over 800 supply containers which the local resistance battalion gathered up during the landing. Unfortunately, luck was against the mission from the start when they jumped in the country on Aug. 1, 1944. Sergeant Perry’s parachute failed and he died in the landing zone. Gunnery Sergeant Robert La Salle wrenched his back on landing and was barely mobile. After a week spent training the local forces, Ortiz ordered patrols to find more local forces, but they began encountering strong German security forces. On Aug. 16, at the town of Centron, a German battalion attacked Ortiz, Arecelin, Risler and Bodnar, surrounding the town. After a fierce firefight, Ortiz and his men surrendered to spare the town. The Germans were astounded to discover there had only been four men. Ortiz and his men went into captivity and were eventually sent on to a prisoner of war camp in Germany.
Conclusion
The Marine Corps’ participation in Operation Overlord and its associated campaigns was small in terms of manpower. Fewer than 500 Marines participated, but the development of amphibious warfare doctrine and techniques during the interwar period and the creation of the initial training programs for amphibious landings were major contributions to the eventual Allied victory. Undoubtedly, many of the Marines present during the landings felt frustratingly like war tourists, but they took lessons from the landings with them to the Pacific. And the Marines serving aboard the Navy’s battlewagons fulfilled the Corps’ oldest function as soldiers of the sea, sharing as much as any Sailor in the success of the amphibious campaign.
Featured Photo (Top): Soldiers land in LCVPs using Marine-developed amphibious doctrine. Offshore, leatherneck gun crews aboard the USS Texas (BB-35) and USS Arkansas (BB-33)provide cover fire for the troops arriving on Omaha beach. (Photo courtesy of National Archives)
About the Author
Paul Westermeyer is a historian with the histories branch of the Marine Corps History Division.
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A Proven Trac Record: AAV Retired After 50 Years Of Service
The world of shooting sports has celebrated the accomplishments of “Mr. Pistol,” William W. McMillan Jr. for more than 75 years. Even in the quarter century since his death in 2000, premier organizations such as USA Shooting and the Civilian Marksmanship Program annually award trophies named in his honor. The list of accolades McMillan accumulated throughout his life is impressive and remains unrivaled in numerous areas. Often overshadowed, however, is his 27-year Marine Corps career that served as the foundation of his international success. A mustang officer, visionary educator and decorated veteran of two wars, McMillan’s distinguished service equipped him with the tools and experience needed to succeed in competition and leave an enduring legacy on Marines today.
Given his modern reputation as one of the preeminent pistol marksmen in history, much of McMillan’s origin story as a Marine is peak irony. He enlisted in the spring of 1946 at the age of 17. “Westinghouse was the major employer in Dad’s hometown at that time, so everybody trained to be a machinist in high school,” said Matt McMillan, the elder McMillan’s youngest son. “When it came to getting a job, he hated working indoors, so Dad and a few of his friends decided to join the military. They originally wanted to go to the U.S. Army Air Corps, but they were closed on Sunday. Well, guess what, the Marine Corps was open.”
The timing of world events undermined McMillan’s ambitions. Too young and too late for World War II, he ended up an aviation machinist at Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, N.C.
“He really wanted to be a ball turret gunner, but the war was over,” Matt said. “He still wanted to be involved in aviation. With the machinist skills he had, the Corps put him there at Cherry Point, and he just hated it. So, he asked for a discharge.”
McMillan left the Marines as a private first class with an honorable discharge in May 1947, less than a year after enlisting. He returned home to Turtle Creek, Pa., near Pittsburgh. Boredom overwhelmed the teen, however, and he reenlisted a year later. This time, McMillan enlisted as an 0311 rifleman.
Nothing about McMillan’s background or childhood suggested he would become a renowned pistol marksman who dominated the international stage for decades. He enlisted with little more knowledge of firearms than what the Corps taught him at boot camp. He’d never fired a pistol. He joined the Marine barracks stationed at Brooklyn Navy Yard as a security guard. The officers responsible for assigning sentry duties were dismayed to learn that their newest PFC arrived with nothing more than a basic rifle qualification. He glaringly lacked qualification with the M1911 service pistol required for Marines on guard duty. The shortcoming left him as the lone Marine at the barracks who couldn’t fire the pistol and relegated him to a single post on one of the piers where the sentry was required to carry a rifle.
By 1949, McMillan qualified with both weapons and entered his first shooting competition. Marine Corps Base Quantico, Va., hosted the Eastern Division matches that year. The Marine barracks in Brooklyn formed a team for the rifle match, including McMillan. His inaugural performance proved lackluster at best. The team performed well overall, finishing second place behind the Quantico Marines. For the individual rifle competition, though, McMillan placed an abysmal 95th. The rifle matches concluded and the second half of the day kicked off the pistol shooting events. Even after his poor performance that morning, McMillan entered the individual pistol competition. His motivation stemmed not from a desire to test his abilities or reclaim some part of his reputation on the team, but to skillfully evade a working party the rest of his fellow junior Marines were stuck with.
The officers responsible for assigning sentry duties were dismayed to learn that their newest PFC arrived with nothing more than a basic rifle qualification.
“It was either fire the pistol in the afternoon or pick up brass,” McMillan told a Leatherneck reporter in October 1957.
Despite bringing nothing to the table but two basic pistol quals, the 20-year-old handily surpassed many more senior and experienced Marines, ending the competition in an impressive seventh place. The performance netted him the first of three required legs towards recognition as a Distinguished Shooter and cemented his name in the world of competition pistol shooting. Just one year and two competition matches later, McMillan earned the Distinguished Pistol Shot badge.
His meteoric rise and marked natural ability did not go underappreciated. The Corps transferred McMillan to Quantico’s Marksmanship Training Unit (MTU) to work as an instructor. From there, he moved into a similar role working out of Camp Pendleton, Calif., training recruits in San Diego and Marines deploying to the conflict brewing in Korea. Meanwhile, McMillan’s fame grew outside the military.
Though most recognized for his pistol shooting, McMillan mastered the art and science of rifle marksmanship early in his career. He was a two-time winner of the McDougal Trophy, presented annually to the top Marine rifle shooter, and earned the coveted badge of Distinguished Marksman in 1954.
William McMillan, center foreground, instructing Marines at Camp Matthews near La Jolla, Calif. In 1956, McMillan transferred to Camp Matthews to help establish a new West Coast Marksmanship Training Unit.
In 1959, McMillan, far left, became the first Marine in history to receive all three Marine Corps marksmanship trophies in the same annual competition: the McDougal Trophy, the Marine Corps Pistol Trophy (now called the Walsh Trophy), and the Lauchheimer Trophy. This incredible feat would not be repeated until 2025.
He made his international debut in June 1952. By then already a staff sergeant, only five years into his career and barely three years after holding a pistol for the first time, McMillan joined the team of American pistol shooters competing in the 35th World Shooting Championships, hosted by the International Shooting Union in Oslo, Norway. The team estab-lished a new world record score in the center-fire pistol match to take home the victor’s trophy. Individually, McMillan placed fourth.
While most members of the World Championships team flew home, McMillan and two others boarded a plane bound for Helsinki, Finland, where an even greater challenge awaited. The three men won the right to represent the United States Olympic Shooting Team in the 1952 Summer Olympics. Alongside McMillan stood civilian sport-shooting legend Harry Reeves and the world-renowned U.S. Army Master Sergeant Huelet “Joe” Benner. Benner set the stage early in the first event, firing 60 near-perfect shots to take home the gold medal in the 50 Meter Free Pistol event. McMillan’s turn followed, competing alongside Benner in the second event, the 25 Meter Rapid-Fire.
The two-day match started off bitter-sweet for the Americans. Uncharacteristically, Benner completely missed the silhouette target with one shot, virtually eliminating him from the remainder of the competition. All eyes and pressure now lay on the first-time Olympian Marine, who closed out the first day of competition in first place. Despite a strong performance again on day two, McMillan lagged behind. The level of performance was unlike anything McMillan had pre-viously experienced. One legendary Hungarian shooter named Karoly Takacs vaulted to the top. Takacs had impressed the world with his right-handed shooting ability until 1938 when a grenade explosion during army training blew off most of his right hand. Undeterred, Takacs taught himself to shoot left-handed and went on to win gold in the 1948 Olympic Games in London. He repeated the feat in 1952, winning gold over McMillan. At the end of the competition, McMillan placed seventh.
When not deployed to combat or competing against other marksmen around the world, McMillan dedicated his time to teaching Marines. Between time spent in Quantico, Va., MCRD Parris Island, S.C., MCRD San Diego, Calif., Camp Matthews, Calif., and Camp Hansen, Okinawa, Japan, thousands of Marines directly benefited from McMillan’s personal experience over his 27-year.
He returned home from Europe and immediately began preparations for a deployment of a completely different sort. He shipped out to Korea in January 1953 as an infantry unit leader with 1st Battalion, 7th Marines. Assigned to Weapons Company, McMillan served as a section leader of the antitank assault platoon hauling 75 mm recoilless rifles around the battlefield. Few specifics of his experience in Korea are known, other than that his battalion defended the hills surrounding the city of Panmunjom, where officials from both sides negotiated the terms of the armistice. Situated immediately south of the 38th parallel in the area eventually established as the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), the battalion encountered heavy fighting from its trenches and defensive positions, and more than its fair share of Chinese soldiers and artillery.
For unclear reasons, the Marine Corps brought McMillan back from combat after just three months, only another four months before the armistice ended the war as a whole. What is known is that McMillan immediately received a commission as a second lieutenant upon his return to the States and enrolled in The Basic School in Quantico by that April. McMillan’s combat experience with demonstrated leadership on the front lines combined perfectly with his authority on firearms to position him as a mustang officer.
William W. McMillan Sr., the famed shooter’s father, stands at McMillan’s childhood home in Turtle Creek, Pa., in 1960 with a collection of his son’s competition shooting medals and trophies. The photograph displays only a portion of the awards McMillan, already world renowned, had accumulated up to that point and only a small fraction of what he would earn through the remainder of his life.
McMillan entered the next phase of his career following basic officer training—nearly a decade defined by marksmanship instruction and competition shooting. He began with Weapons Training Battalion at Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD) Parris Island, S.C. He then transitioned to the MTU at Camp Matthews, near La Jolla, Calif., to once again work with recruits coming out of MCRD San Diego. McMillan was hand-selected for this assignment to help establish this new West Coast MTU, modeled after the existing organization in Quantico. As he progressed through rank, McMillan adopted an increasing responsibility in administering the training programs, while simultaneously presenting one of the finest examples of Marine shooting ability the recruits had ever seen.
During this time, he competed in numerous U.S.-based shooting contests and international competitions. His rifle scores improved rapidly and exponentially over his early years in Brooklyn, achiev-ing the badge of a Distinguished Marks-man in 1954. The next year, McMillan topped the list of Marine Corps rifle marks-men to bring home the coveted McDougal Trophy at the All Marine Corps Rifle and Pistol matches. Though he finished second in the pistol competi-tion, his aggregate scores also netted him the Lauchheimer Trophy. He would not be outdone for long, however. In 1959, McMillan accomplished one of his most jaw-dropping feats, winning the rifle, pistol, and aggregate Lauchheimer awards. He was the first Marine in history to sweep all three major awards. His performance would not be repeated until 2025, when Staff Sergeant Payton Garcia brought home all three.
1960 proved to be one of the most pivotal years in McMillan’s career, both as a Marine and as a competition shooter. He once again earned a spot in the Olympics, traveling to Rome that September to represent the nation as a pistol shooter in the same rapid-fire pistol event he fired in 1952. Karoly Takacs no longer competed, but a reputable team of Russians was expected to dominate the competition.
William McMillan stands on top of the pedestal as a 1960 Olympic gold medalist in Rome, Italy. He eventually represented the United States in six Olympic Games.
McMillan remained a staple of the competition shooting community. He competed in a total of six Olympic Games, one of a very small handful to ever represent the U.S. that many times.
Dominate they did, winning two gold, two silver, and three bronze medals across six shooting events. McMillan was undeterred. He finished the competition in a three-way tie for first place, forcing the match into a shoot-off between him, a Russian and a Finnish shooter. In the end, McMillan triumphed, earning the sole gold medal for the American team. The feat endured, perhaps, as his greatest competition shooting achievement.
Prior to winning his gold medal, McMillan spent the first six months of that year back at Quantico to attend schooling required to classify him as an ordnance officer. Now responsible for the maintenance, storage and deployment of weaponry, ammo, and explosives, McMillan officially dedicated his career to administering Marine Corps ranges and working with weapons training battalions. He initially returned to the MTU at Camp Matthews in California before taking assignments again in Quantico and Okinawa. In July 1965, McMillan briefly deployed to South Vietnam to work with the community of Marine Corps snipers in country. By 1968, he assumed the rank of lieutenant colonel and assignment as the assistant force ordnance officer for III Marine Amphibious Force, headquartered in Da Nang, Republic of Vietnam. He deployed forward that November to assume his duties in the second war of his career.
LtCol William McMillan training snipers while in Vietnam in 1969. During his time in country, McMillan worked with U.S. Army and Marine Corps snipers and helped institute a preventative maintenance program for sniper rifles and scopes.
On April 27, 1969, virtually all the ordnance stored at Ammo Supply Point 1 outside of Da Nang Air Base accidentally blew up. One of the explosions pictured here demonstrates the awesome destructive power of the disaster. As the Assistant Force Ordnance Officer for III MAF, McMillan played a key role in the salvage and cleanup operation.
On April 27, 1969, a strong gust of wind pushed debris from a burning trash pile into a grassy field outside the primary ammo supply point near Da Nang Air Base. The vegetation lit off and the wind pushed the fire inside the wire. Before Marines could react, ordnance of every sort imaginable began cooking off. Grenades, mortar rounds, artillery rounds, napalm and 100-pound bombs all combined in a raucous display demolishing the supply point and shattering windows in downtown Da Nang nearly 3 miles away. One eyewitness
In 1968, McMillan deployed to Vietnam as the assistant force ordnance officer for III MAF. He would earn the Combat Action Ribbon and a Bronze Star with “V” during his time in country.
described two blasts in particular, resembling “small nuclear explosions, complete with shock waves which could be seen moving out in a circular pattern through the smoke and haze.” Marine truck drivers and military police encountered an apocalyptic scene, driving and running through a fiery hail of burning debris beneath a blackened sky, as they rushed to evacuate military personnel and civilians from the immediate area. One American and one Vietnamese were killed, and 65 wounded. Some 1,500 civilians in a nearby village were left homeless in the wake of fire and explosions. Approximately 38,000 tons of ground and air ordnance went up in the catastrophe, roughly 40 percent of Marine ammo on hand throughout all of I Corps.
Simmering munitions spewed fire into the sky for more than 15 hours after the initial blast. Even as the supply point continued burning, McMillan coordinated a wide effort to bring the disaster under control. He led all explosive ordnance disposal (EOD) personnel from the Marine Corps, Army and Air Force, and the Army of the Republic of Vietnam. With munitions of every sort sprinkled throughout the area, with varying degrees of damage or exposure to fire, blowing anything in place was not an option lest the conflagration be ignited once again. McMillan remained on-site coordinating the operation and supervising the efforts as EOD cleaned up every bit by explosive bit until the supply point returned to full operational status.
McMillan returned home from Vietnam in November 1969. For his outstanding work throughout the I Corps area, and most notably during the ammo supply point incident that April, McMillan received a Bronze Star with “V.” He assumed command of the MTU at Quantico and resumed his role as an educator and competition shooter. In 1973 he transferred back to California for his final year in uniform. He retired in 1974.
Through the remainder of his career and into his retirement, McMillan remained a staple of the competition shooting community. He competed in a total of six Olympic Games, one of a very small handful to ever represent the United States that many times. His final shot at gold came in Montreal in 1976. At age 47, McMillan was the oldest American competitor in any sport. He was unable to ever repeat his Olympic medal performance from 1960. The list of medals, trophies and awards he accumulated in competitions around the nation and world is mind-boggling to place in time with his Marine Corps career. For Marine-specific shooting accolades, McMillan was a five-time winner of the Lauchheimer Trophy, two-time winner of the Marine Corps Pistol Trophy and two-time winner of the McDougal Trophy. Taken altogether, as stated in his Legion of Merit award recommendation at the end of his career, McMillan can truly be regarded as “the most proficient marksman in Marine Corps history.”
In the same year he retired, McMillan joined the San Diego County Sheriff’s Office as range master and weapons training coordinator. For six years, he taught handgun combat training to sheriff’s deputies and SWAT organizations. He developed counter-sniper tactics and designed the county’s tactical training facility. Tragically, his second career and competition shooting career both came to an abrupt and accidental end in May 1980.
As sheriff’s deputies conducted a live-fire, “shoot, no shoot” drill, McMillan stood behind them outside the front door of the target building. He worked a switchboard controlling the moveable targets that appeared along each deputy’s path as they advanced through the structure. When one trainee exited the back of the building, he spotted a “shoot” target on the wall behind him. Regrettably, the target had malfunctioned while the deputy moved through the building, failing to flip around to face inside the building through a window and present him with a “shoot” target earlier in the drill. The deputy fired two shots from his .357 magnum revolver. Both bullets tore through the target, the back and front walls of the structure, a window in McMillan’s control booth and into McMillan’s chest.
McMillan endured more than four hours of surgery. He survived, despite substantial blood loss. The wounds, however, deeply affected the right side of his torso and right arm. Already feeling the deficit of aging eyesight, with the permanent impact of his new injuries, McMillan’s shooting career was over.
McMillan remained in California for the remaining 20 years of his life. He died in June 2000 at the age of 71. His impact on the world of competition shooting remains hard to rival. He was inducted into the U.S. International Shooting Hall of Fame in 1994 and the Marine Corps Sports Hall of Fame in 2011.
LtCol William McMillan Jr. photographed in his final official portrait before his retirement. He wears the badges of a “Triple Distinguished” shooter beneath rows of ribbons showcasing his service, most especially his combat service in Korea and Vietnam. Notably absent is the Legion of Merit he received upon his retirement. McMillan retired in July 1974.
His impact on the status and caliber of Marine Corps marksmanship remains even more relevant to Marines today—an impact defined by his natural shooting ability and his experience across his 27-year career. His technical expertise led to the development of improved ordnance equipment and training of thousands of Marines. He helped rewrite the publications on marksmanship and revise the techniques and courses of fire for evaluating Marines’ shooting proficiency.
“LtCol McMillan’s far-sighted and imaginative improvements to marksmanship training are just being felt within the Marine Corps,” stated Brigadier General Maurice C. Ashley, the director of the Training and Education Division at the time of McMillan’s retirement. “The full impact of his contributions to enhancing combat marksmanship proficiency is difficult to measure tangibly but will be present for so long as Marines carry individual small arms into combat.”
Featured Photo (Top):Capt William W. McMillan Jr. demonstrates his classic shooting stance in 1961. By then an internationally recognized marksman, McMillan used his natural abilities to train thousands of Marines on the firing line.
Note: The Photos within this article are courtesy of Matthew McMillan.
About the Author
Kyle Watts is the staff writer for Leatherneck. He served on active duty in the Marine Corps as a communications officer from 2009-13. He is the 2019 winner of the Colonel Robert Debs Heinl Jr. Award for Marine Corps History. He lives in Richmond, Va., with his wife and three children.
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Precision Weapons Section: Keeping the Marine Corps Competitive on the Range and on the Battlefield
Though wearing the gold wings of naval aviators, Marine pilots only occasionally flew from aircraft carriers before World War II. Two understrength scouting squadrons operated from USS Lexington (CV-2) and Saratoga (CV-3) in the early 1930s, and another was briefly assigned to Langley (CV-1). In 1935, leatherneck fighting, bombing and scouting units began cycling through carrier qualification (CQ) periods, but more as a contingency than as part of a particular Navy air group.
Hand in glove with Marine carrier squadrons were landing signal officers (LSOs). Few LSOs were trained before the war, but two, Robert E. Galer and Kenneth A. Walsh, qualified as “paddles” and later were recipients of the Medal of Honor for combat missions they flew in the Solomons.
In 1943, Naval Air Forces Pacific noted that Marines comprised one-third of the aviators qualifying as carrier pilots. As far as using the flattops went, though, the Marines made only one brief cruise in May 1943, supporting Army troops recapturing Attu in the Aleutians. USS Nassau (CVE-16) embarked 26 F4F-4s and three Marine F4F-3Ps with six pilots and nine enlisted men, ultimately losing one Wildcat and one pilot. Otherwise, no Marine squadrons were using the carriers, and the CQ requirement was dropped.
A year and a half later, a crisis hit. In October 1944, the first kamikaze missions shocked the Pacific Fleet into a chilling realization: More fighter squadrons were needed in the Western Pacific. The purge from CQ was abruptly reversed, but months were required to make up the deficit. An immediate increase in fighters was instituted for Essex class carriers, but until more Navy fighter pilots were trained, Marines would fill the gap.
USS Essex (CV-9) departing San Francisco on April 15, 1944. (USMC photo)
The Fast Carrier Task Forces
Two F4U squadrons were available in Hawaii for early embarkation: Marine Fighting Squadrons (VMF) 124 and 213, which reached the Ulithi Atoll on Dec. 28. Embarked on USS Essex (CV-9) with Air Group 4, the Marines sailed with Task Force 38, the Fast Carrier Task Force, on Dec. 30. Despite briefings and practice with the LSOs, two pilots and three F4Us were lost in the first two days. Worse was yet to come.
Senior among the 54 pilots was Lieutenant Colonel William A. Millington, commanding officer of VMF-124.
On Jan. 3, 1945, on Okinawa, Millington claimed the first kill by carrier-based Marines, but one pilot succumbed to navigation error. Another disappeared the next day in heavy weather. After nine days of fleet operations, the Essex leathernecks had lost seven pilots and 13 Corsairs. None of the Navy’s Fighting Squadron (VF) 4 Hellcats were lost to weather or operational causes at the time, highlighting the need for increased instrument training among Marine pilots.
On Jan. 12, the fast carriers struck Japanese naval and air bases in French Indochina. The Corsairs shot up a dozen planes on the ground, losing one in the process (though the pilot returned to Allied control). The day’s most tragic loss was a B-24 Liberator that inexplicably failed to heed radio and visual challenges from the Corsair combat air patrol (CAP). When the Marines were fired upon, they attacked the unmarked bomber, which seemed to be Japanese flown. They destroyed the Liberator, which, in fact, belonged to the 14th Air Force.
Upon exiting the South China Sea, within range of Formosa, the task force was attacked on Jan. 20 and 21. Essex F4Us claimed eight victories, but another carrier, USS Ticonderoga (CV-14), suf-fered heavy damage.
When the fast carriers sortied again in February, three more ships embarked Marine squadrons. VMF-112 and 123 sailed on USS Bennington (CV-20), 216 and 217 joined USS Wasp (CV-18), and USS Bunker Hill (CV-17) became the first ship to embark three Corsair squadrons: VF-84, VMF-221 and VMF-451.
Together, the squadrons totaled 133 F4Us and 216 pilots—one-sixth of the fast carriers’ fighter strength. The new units had received intensive carrier and instrument refreshers and would be spared the operational losses that plagued Millington’s men. However, Commander Otto Klinsmann, the Essex air group commander, had been lost off Formosa, so Millington “fleeted up.” He was the first Marine to command a Navy air group.
He later recalled the Marines’ introduction to fast carrier warfare: “We were warned about the kamikazes—indeed, the Essex had been hit by one just before our cruise. We would have to shoot them down before reaching the fleet, for it was their tactics that were doing the most damage. As a result, we abandoned defensive tactics when we went after the kamikazes. The Navy really feared them, more than the Marines [did]. They used destroyers as pickets, and we flew CAP over them. The kamikazes would go after the pickets, these being the first ships they came across. By the time of the Okinawa operation, they were no longer trying to establish air superiority, merely trying to destroy ships with kamikaze tactics.”
The February strikes were among the most ambitious to date. The task force struck the enemy’s home islands, launching missions over Tokyo itself. The weather precluded a full-scale application of airpower, however, and strikes were canceled on the 17th, the second day of the operation. Still, the Marines claimed 21 aerial victories and 60 grounded planes, losing nine F4Us and six pilots. Especially hard hit was Bennington’s VMF-123, as antiaircraft fire knocked down three Corsairs, though two pilots were rescued. The skipper of VMF-217, Major Jack Amende, fell to a Zeke (A6M Zero), and three other Wasp Corsairs were lost—one on launch.
Recalling the Tokyo strikes, Millington explained, “Our offensive fighter sweeps against enemy airfields were conducted without external ordnance—we just used our guns. When attacking airfields, we would go in en masse to dilute the anti-aircraft fire. Sometimes we would do a second sweep, depending on the defenses, dividing the airfield up and each flight taking a different segment. Later, we conducted ground attack missions using rockets and bombs.”
LtCol William A. Millington, center, briefs the pilots of VMF-124 and VMF-213 aboard USS Essex on Jan. 1, 1945. (USMC)
A pilot from VMF-511 prepares for a night mission aboard USS Block Island (CVE-106),providing essential air support during the Okinawa campaign and conducting strikes against targets in the Sakishima Gunto.(USMC)
The first carrier strikes against Japan were significant in that naval aviation had taken the war to the enemy homeland. But more important to Marine aviation was the tactical support given assault troops at Iwo Jima. Millington had helped prepare the close air support plan and led the D-day mission on Feb. 19. The Essex group commander took 24 F4Us and 24 F6Fs down on the beaches in a well-timed operation coordinated with naval gunfire. Napalm, rockets and liberal strafing helped suppress Japanese defenses as the aviators fired barely 200 yards ahead of the infantry. Ground commanders gratefully noted that full enemy resistance did not arise until after the Marines were ashore.
The fast carriers continued supporting the bloody struggle ashore until D+3. It was back to Japan on Feb. 25, where the weather again blocked effective air operations. Of the nine carrier planes lost, two were Bennington Marines, including Major Everett Alward of VMF-123.
Upon return to Ulithi in early March, Essex and Wasp lost their leathernecks as Air Groups 4 and 81 rotated out. However, 75 Marine mechanics volunteered to remain in the two carriers, lending their knowledge of Corsair maintenance.
Joining the task force were two more Marine units, VMF-214 and 452 on USS Franklin (CV-13) with Air Group 5. Operations began off Kyushu on March 18; primary targets were enemy airfields, as Task Force 58 fliers claimed more than 100 shootdowns. The Marines bagged 14 and lost only three.
On the 19th, the fast carriers were hit by conventional and suicide attacks while sailing within 60 miles of Shikoku. With 31 planes on deck, Franklin was hit by a pair of 550-pound bombs. “Big Ben” went dead in the water for almost four hours and finally was towed out of range. Sixty-five Marines were among the 800 dead, as VMF-214 and 452 were knocked out of the war on their second day of carrier combat.
Bennington and Bunker Hill Marines pressed on. Twenty-four-year-old Major Herman Hansen of VMF-112 led four divisions into 20 Zekes near Kanoya, claiming nine kills without loss. VMF-123 had a running fight against stiff odds, losing three and claiming nine. Three more F4Us were jettisoned with extensive battle damage. Captain William Cantrel, a Solomons veteran who, though badly wounded in one foot, stayed in the fight, downed two assailants and organized cover for the withdrawal. Back aboard, he collapsed from blood loss and received a well-deserved Navy Cross.
Carriers off Okinawa
With the invasion of Okinawa on April 1, the fast carriers met a succession of determined Japanese air attacks. The big kamikaze raids of the 6th and 12th brought dramatic opportunities to engage enemy aircraft. Major Hansen celebrated his 25th birthday with a triple kill, becoming an ace and earning a Navy Cross. A full day’s work for a former photo pilot.
Major Archie Donahue of 451 accounted for five of Air Group 84’s 25 shootdowns, becoming the Marines’ only carrier-based ace in a day. However, with good hunting came high risk. On May 11, Bunker Hill was ravaged by two bombs and two suiciders. She was engulfed in gasoline fires, and 28 enlisted Marines and one pilot died on board. Airborne leathernecks watched the conflagration, awed by the spectacle.
One onlooker was Captain James Swett, who caught an attacker before recovering aboard USS Enterprise (CV-6). The Solomons Medal of Honor recipient ran his record to 15.5 victories. In three months of combat, VMF-221 and 451 had lost 13 pilots and claimed 84 Japanese planes.
A VMF-124 Corsair launches from USS Essex. In December 1944, these were the first Marine fighter pilots to join the Fast Carrier Task Forces. (USMC)
This F4U Corsair from VMF-512 crashed during landing on USS Gilbert Islands (CVE-107) in early spring of 1945.(Courtesy of Barrett Tillman)
Bennington remained on the line until June 8, spending nearly four months in almost continuous operations. VMF-112 and 123 recorded 82 shootdowns plus 149 planes claimed on the ground, but losses were high. Eighteen pilots were killed in action, one in three. Forty-eight F4Us were lost (31 in combat), and another 41 were transferred out with damage.
While the Corsair squadrons formed the bulk of Marine aviation’s contribution to carrier aviation in the war, a smaller group also logged flattop service. At least 13 Marines flew with Navy squadrons, including eight with Air Group 10 on USS Intrepid (CV-11). Their appearance was accidental—a personnel office thought that “Evil I” needed replacement Marines when in fact none were aboard. But Carrier Air Group 10 Commander John Hyland had no prejudice—perhaps he was looking for “a few good men.” In their brief time aboard, the eight Marines shot down 10 bandits and helped sink the 64,000-ton battleship Yamato on April 7. One pilot was killed before the detachment left Intrepid.
Five other wandering leathernecks flew with Air Group 85 on USS Shangri-La (CV-38) for about two weeks, mainly flying against kamikaze bases. Originally assigned as escort carrier pilots, they rejoined their friends in VMF-512 on USS Gilbert Islands (CVE-107) at Leyte in June.
A Grumman F6F-5N Hellcat night fighter in flight. (USMC)
Baby Flattops
The final chapter of the Marine carrier experience in World War II was the escort carrier (CVE) program under Colonel Albert D. Cooley. When the first F4U squadrons joined the fast carriers, the project was already underway, as noted in the Chief of Naval Operations’ dispatch to Pacific Fleet Commander Chester Nimitz. It said in part, “You are further authorized to proceed with training Marine fighter squadrons for deployment in assault CVEs to relieve Navy pilots and personnel required for fast carrier groups. Keep me informed of number of Marine squadrons to be assigned fast carriers and make recommendations for substituting Marine squadrons in combat CVEs.”
On Oct. 21, 1944, Marine Carrier Groups, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific, was established at MCAS Santa Barbara, Calif. The command was comprised of two groups at Santa Barbara and Mojave. Two weeks later, they were designated Marine Air Support Groups 48 and 51. Each group was to be composed of four carrier air groups (MCVGs), each with an 18-plane fighter squadron and a 12-plane torpedo bomber squadron. The units were to be deployed in four escort carriers with an additional two CVEs of Navy squadrons to form an escort carrier division. The all-Navy ships’ task was antisubmarine and CAPs, while the Marine units provided air support for amphibious forces. All ground crews were organized into carrier aircraft service detachments as part of each MCVG.
The goal of the Marine CVE program was to provide 16 air groups simultaneously, plus spares. A full complement would be 540 fighters and 360 TBM Avengers for the deploying and backup or spare Marine air groups.
By early 1945, the first “all Marine” carrier was ready: USS Block Island (CVE-106), embarking VMF-511 and Marine Torpedo Bombing Squadron 233 in MCVG-1. The other three MCVGs were assigned at one-month intervals: MCVG-2 on Gilbert Islands, MCVG-3 on USS Vella Gulf (CVE-111) and MCVG-4 on USS Cape Gloucester (CVE-109). They merged with the Navy units aboard Kula Gulf (CVE-108) and Siboney (CVE-112) in May 1945.
As always, maintenance loomed large. Some of the “downstream” fighter squadrons were slated to receive F6F Hellcats or even F8F Bearcats. Experience had shown that sustained operations taxed F4U squadrons because of the Corsair’s complex oil and hydraulic systems. Deferred maintenance often was not possible, resulting in fewer sorties per aircraft compared to F6Fs. The operational CVE air groups deployed with F4U fighter-bombers plus F6F photo aircraft and night fighters.
Among the pilots in MCVG-1 was Major R. Bruce Porter, the commanding officer of VMF-511, which was expected to conduct night-fighter missions from Block Island. After a Solomons tour, the 24-year-old Californian anticipated his greatest challenge yet—flying fighters from small-deck carriers at night.
The squadron began night “car quals” in Hawaii early in 1945, and Porter recalled the evolution beginning with his F6F-5N hitched to USS Tripoli’s(CVE-64) hydraulic catapult:
Maj Bruce Porter in the cockpit of his F6F-5N Hellcat night fighter. He mastered the high-stakes night carrier operations that would intercept kamikazes and strike targets in total darkness during the final months of the Pacific War. (USMC)
“I looked to my left and saluted. Ready! In response, a dimly perceived deck hand standing over the catapult crew’s catwalk whirled a flashlight. Go! I turned my eyes front, loosened my grip on the stick, set my jaw and leaned back into my seat.
“WHAM!
“My conscious mind was eons behind my senses. … I had a very busy couple of seconds as I kicked the right rudder pedal and yanked the stick into the pit of my stomach. I had no time to dwell on how dark it was out there.
“All my training and experience saw me through a climb to 3,000 feet. While my mind reeled off a thousand facts about my flying, my voice talked to the ship in calm tones, reporting on routine matters. … I was neither here nor there.
“After assuring myself that I was flying on a heading opposite of that of the ship, I flew down the carrier’s port side and approached the plane guard destroyer, keeping it just off my port wing. I could not help ruminating about how useless a night search for a bilged aviator must be.
“Next, I flicked on my radio altimeter, a brand-new instrument that had been installed just before we left San Diego. I set it for 150 feet. If I flew above that altitude, I’d get a white signal light. If I flew below, I’d get a red—danger! If I was flying right at 150, I’d get a comforting green light. It was green when I turned the altimeter on.
“I flew upwind the length of the tiny destroyer and sighted her deck lights. This was the only concession to a pilot’s natural aptitude for becoming disoriented across even the briefest interval of night space.
“At what I judged to be the best moment, I turned 90 degrees port, dropped wheels and flaps, enriched the fuel mixture, partly opened the cowl flaps, put the prop in low pitch and turned another 90 degrees to arrive downwind dead astern of the carrier.
“Then I was committed to the approach; all my attention was aimed at visually acquiring the LSO’s luminous paddles.
“I momentarily panicked and said, ‘Where the hell are you?’
“First, I sensed the colored paddles, then I knew I saw them. The LSO’s arms were both out straight. Roger! My ragged confidence was restored, though I remained a good deal less than cocky. I checked my airspeed, down to the required 90 knots. Before I knew it, I saw the ‘cut’ signal. Then, WHAM! The tailhook caught a wire and I was stopped on a dime.
“I taxied past the barrier, came to rest beside the island and cut the engine. As had been the case after my first live combat mission, my flight suit was reeking of sweat.”
By the time the Marine CVEs became operational, the war was winding down. Despite initial intent, Block Island and Gilbert Islands, which arrived off Okinawa in May with Marine squadrons and a primary mission of close air support, logged more sorties striking targets in Sakishima Gunto than working with infantry ashore.
The Marines of VMF-124 and VMF-213 served as pioneers of Marine carrier aviation. Their transition from land bases to USS Essex proved the versatility of Marine air power.(USMC)
Rear Admiral Calvin C. Durgin, commanding the escort carrier force at Okinawa, noted that Navy CVE squadrons were well trained in close air support. He added, “The advent of Marine Air Groups in CVEs should not be permitted to complicate the support carrier picture any more than is necessary. … Marine air groups should be and probably are as flexible as navy squadrons and groups, and should remain so, and should expect no preferential treatment. To assign all Marine squadrons to direct support work would probably work to the detriment of morale of the Navy groups … and this command sees … no reason for such assignments and has no intention of allowing it to occur.”
“Jeep carriers” also supported the Balikpapan, Borneo, occupation. In July and August, Cape Gloucester aircrews contributed to an operation off the China coast. VMF-351 downed five aircraft, two of which fell to Lieutenant Colonel Don Yost, who on Aug. 5 became the last Marine ace of the war, having started his career with VMF-121 at Guadalcanal. Meanwhile, Vella Gulf arrived at Okinawa as the war ended. Block Island and Gilbert Islands supported the Allied occupation of Formosa and the evacuation of former POWs.
Ultimately, 14 of the planned 16 MCVGs were established or directed to form. In the rapid demobilization following the war, however, the Marine CVE program was drastically reduced, providing only three air groups for the Pacific Fleet and two for the Atlantic.
Featured Photo (Top): Marines of VMF-124 and VMF-213 aboard USS Essex, led by LtCol William A. Millington, the first Marine to command a Navy air group. (USMC)
About the Author
Barrett Tillman is a professional author with more than 40 non-fiction volumes and novels plus more than 800 articles published worldwide. He is best known as an award-winning historian for his histories of naval aircraft and carrier operations. He learned to fly as a teenager and has flown hundreds of hours in historic aircraft. A competitive marksman, he has led a national championship shooting team.
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Behind the scenes of every piece of equipment fielded by the Marine Corps lies a complex acquisition system. The intricate process ensures the right product ends up in the hands of the warfighter. Evolved through a methodical, layered structure of requirements and testing, anything a Marine might carry, wear, shoot, drive or fly begins with the most generic form of a requirement.
(Photo from USN)
If Marines across the Corps were thirsty every time they went to the field, the basic need for a water bottle might bubble up to the top. From the highest level, the Corps tasks an acquisition officer in charge of the appropriate program office with the fundamental requirement: We need a way for Marines to carry water in the field. Along with the requirement comes specifications. The vessel must be small enough for an individual to carry, but large enough to keep a Marine hydrated for six hours. It must close and be leakproof. The drinking orifice must fit the average size mouth. It must withstand being run over by a 7-ton truck, or maybe a direct hit from a 500-pound bomb. Etc.
Marines and civilians within the program office get to work. Some partner closely with civilian industry looking for companies to enter competing bids with prototypes that meet the specifications. Others generate the lifecycle documenta-tion required for sustaining the project. They estimate the cost per unit, research and development and timetable required. They request funding for engineering, development, initial manufacturing and fielding, testing, revision and mass adoption of the finalized product. With funding approved, the program office is now responsible for keeping the cost, schedule and performance of each product to the original spec and delivering it to Marines in the fleet.
Getting the product into Marines’ hands, a monumental effort in itself, is only step one. Perhaps the lid designed for the water bottle breaks too easily or unscrews itself under certain conditions that only occur in the field. The program office drafts engineering change propos-als to correct the problem, implements the changes into manufacturing, then delivers the newly designed lid to each bottle coming off the production line and to every bottle already in the field. Mean-while, data shows that fully two-thirds of fleet Marines are losing or otherwise demolishing their new water bottles at the rate of one every six months. Now, the program office must create a sustain-ment plan for the dictated life cycle of the water bottle; for the next 20 years, we have to order how many hundred thou-sand water bottles, at what cost, coming from what pot of money, in order to keep the fleet supplied?
It’s easy for even the most ignorant of us outside the acquisition field to imagine the intensive workload, mental pressure and herculean effort required of these Marines. They operate within an unsung and largely thankless subsection of the Marine Corps, working more often with government civilians and contractors to create and deliver products than with their fellow Marines who use them. The simplest, smallest piece of equipment en-dures the same fundamental acquisition process as the most complex.
Marine aviation employs some of the most technologically advanced and expensive equipment the Corps has to offer. While the fundamental acquisition process is the same, every lever, door and wire within an aircraft endures the same testing, fielding and revising as the water bottle. Acquiring and sustaining these technologies requires not only an array of dedicated program offices, but also a host of fleet-experienced subject matter experts and certified Marine test pilots to fly each aircraft and safely trial every upgrade or new technology. Like the Marine Corps as a whole, all of these Marines and program offices fall within a larger U.S. Navy command.
Naval Air Systems Command (NAVAIR) is headquartered at Naval Air Station Patuxent River, Md. Dominating the southern mouth of the Patuxent at the Chesapeake Bay, the base is home to numerous test flight squadrons, program offices, engineering offices and civilian contractor spaces. In the heart of the air station, occupying an old firehouse directly on the flight line, lies the Marine Aviation Detachment (MAD). The MAD holds administrative responsibility over all Marines assigned to program offices and test flight squadrons within NAVAIR, providing the crucial talent management needed to keep the right Marines in the right seats at all times to move aviation acquisitions forward.
A V-22 Osprey conducts a test flight over the HX-21 squadron area at NAS Patuxent River, Md. (Courtesy of HX-21)
Army Green Berets with the 10th Special Forces Group (Airborne) walk to a Marine Corps V-22 Osprey on Fort Carson, Colo., Oct. 21, 2025. Green Berets with the 10th SFG(A) conducted multiple high-altitude free-fall jumps from a V-22 Osprey, honing precision and proficiency.(Sgt Rhianna Ballenger, USA)
At 185 Marines strong, only a few call the former fire station home. Most are spread from coast to coast working on aviation projects as varied as the Marines assigned to them.
“We are a very top-heavy organization with an incredibly wide range of expertise,” said Lieutenant Colonel Michael Shull, the MAD executive officer (XO). “The Marines are all operationally dispersed. You may have a lone Marine in a program office. You may have another with six to eight Marines, depending on the size of the portfolio or the attention it’s getting from Headquarters Marine Corps. It’s important for us to keep a bead on those upper-level documents that trickle down to how we manage manpower to ensure the right people are in the right spot. They’re all hand-selected billets with people out of the fleet selected for their expertise.”
Despite the “behind the scenes” nature of their work, the results these Marines produce reach the highest levels of visibility. There are roughly 60 Marine officers qualified as 8059 acquisition officers specializing in aviation. These men and women work in close conjunction with civilian industry partners operating with a staggering budget to bring ideas to life. In the three-year period from April 2022 to April 2025, Marines within the MAD executed the funding of $65 billion across research, development, testing and evaluation. The funding derived from Marine Corps projects as well as Navy and joint program offices, meaning not all were specifically Marine Corps dollars, but Marines were still responsible for managing those dollars. At a time when the annual service budget for the entire Marine Corps totals roughly $50 billion, the responsibility these Marines shoulder proves no trivial task.
Marines with CLB-24, CLR-2, 2nd MLG, hook an F-35C Lightning II to a CH-53K King Stallion for helicopter support team operations at NAS Patuxent River, Md., on Dec. 13, 2022. CLB-24 conducted external lift operations with a helicopter support team to develop the proper tactics, techniques and procedures when flying a CH-53K King Stallion.(Cpl Meshaq Hylton, USMC)
Additional pilots and enlisted Marines fill out the MAD as subject matter experts supporting each program office. They help design engineers understand all the ways their product will be used by Marines around the world and the creative ways Marines will find to break it. They make suggestions for design changes that will ultimately result in the most user-friendly version winding up in the hands of warfighters. Some senior enlisted work as fleet liaisons, remaining close to operational squadrons around the world. Once a new widget of any kind trickles down to the end user, fleet liaisons travel from unit to unit introducing Marines to the new equipment, gathering their feed-back, and relaying information and suggestions back to the program office.
Program Manager Air (PMA) offices cover every facet of Marine aviation and supporting systems. The life-cycle stages of each office range from new acquisition to sustainment of current technologies.
“Every year we receive an aviation plan from the deputy commandant for aviation based on force design, projections, budget and other factors from the three-star level,” said Colonel James Reynolds, the MAD commanding officer. “That determines the needs and requirements for the future. Acquisition officers take requirements and money, merge the two and deliver a product. It’s an important mindset to frame your thoughts around—the idea that when you purchase a drill, you’re not buying a drill, you’re buying holes. There are many ways you can get those holes, you can’t just fixate on needing a drill. If the Marine Corps needs a ship-to-shore connector, that could be an AAV, a helicopter, a flat bottom ship; there are so many ways to crack that problem. If you fixate on a helicopter, then that’s how everything becomes a helicopter.”
The cargo/special operations team at Naval Air Warfare Center Aircraft Division, NAS Patuxent River, Md., obtained this CH-53K King Stallion shell in 2020 for use by the NAVAIR Heavy Lift Helicopter Program Office, PMA-261. The aircraft was used for certification and qualification of cargo and to provide the program office and the Marine Corps with opportunities for time and cost savings. (Photo by Victoria Falcon, NAS Patuxent River)
PMA-275 operates one of the largest program offices across the force. This joint office between the Marine Corps, Navy and U.S. Air Force is responsible for the procurement, development, support, fielding and disposal of the U.S. military’s tiltrotor program: the V-22 Osprey. MAD Marines work alongside roughly 350 other servicemembers and civilians in the program office at Pax River, including Marine Col Robert Hurst, the program manager for the entire V-22 Joint Program.
“The work we do here is critical,” Col Hurst said. “For my office, it’s critical to the lance corporal, the Sailor and the airman. They count on us to get things done. The criticality of having a Marine voice inside the acquisitions system cannot be overstated, having our focus on the warfighter, problem solving and leadership. Being an acquisition officer is as much about leadership as it is about knowing acquisition.”
An additional 300 PMA-275 personnel work out of Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, N.C., as the program’s Fleet Support Team. These civilians and servicemembers deploy all over the world, wherever American V-22s are in use, to provide subject matter expert support. A program more than 20 years in the making, as of this year, PMA-275 decommissioned its active production line for Marine Corps Ospreys, transitioning from new production to sustainment of the current fleet.
PMA-261, responsible for the CH-53 heavy lift helicopter, underwent the reverse transition over the last several years. For more than four decades the CH-53E model served as the Marine Corps’ workhorse. By the mid-2010s, the Pax River-based PMA determined sustainment was no longer pragmatic.
Marines with CLB-24, CLR-2, 2nd MLG, hook an F-35C Lightning II to a CH-53K King Stallion for helicopter support team operations at NAS Patuxent River, Md., on Dec. 13, 2022. CLB-24 conducted external lift operations with a helicopter support team to develop the proper tactics, techniques and procedures when flying a CH-53K King Stallion.(Cpl Meshaq Hylton, USMC)
A UX-24 MQ-9A is suspended in a specialized chamber for absorbing sound and electromagnetic waves at the Advanced Systems Integration Laboratory, Patuxent River, Md., on Feb 27, 2025. PMA-266 is NAVAIR’s program office for multi-mission tactical unmanned aircraft systems.(Theresa Thomas, DAiTA and Missions Systems Group)
Air traffic control technicians with VMM-263 (Rein), 22nd MEU, calibrate communications systems with CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters in preparation for a simulated night raid as part of Realistic Urban Training Exercise at Fort Barfoot, Va., on March 14, 2025. (Photo by Cpl Emily Hazelbaker, USMC)
LCpl Wyatt Hahn, left, and LCpl Harrison Vallery, both air traffic control radar technicians with MACS-4, MACG-18, 1st MAW, check the panels on an air traffic navigation, integration and coordination system (ATNAVICS) at MCAS Iwakuni, Japan, on Feb. 6, 2025. ATNAVICS is a mobile radar system used to provide air traffic control to pilots within a wide range of weather conditions. (Cpl Samantha Rodriguez, USMC)
“For a long time, the goal in that office was to keep the helicopter flying and relevant,” said LtCol Shull. Prior to his service as the MAD XO, Shull piloted CH-53s in the fleet and served as an acquisition officer assigned to PMA-261. “The acquisition mindset was improvements and upgrades, maybe a new weapons system, new instrumentation or safety measures. At some point, it becomes more expensive to sustain than to replace. Either the threat has surpassed it or just the lifespan of the aircraft can no longer be extended, like an old car that eventual-ly needs to be replaced. So, the office be-gan the standard ‘new capability’ ac-quisition process, identifying the best product to meet the heavy-lift require-ments. Eventually, it transitioned into the development and fielding of the CH-53K.”
Beyond the development and acquisi-tion phases, testing each new product re-quires a special breed of Marine avi-ators. Roughly one third of the Marines selected and placed by the MAD are pilots assigned to one of the Air Test and Evaluation squadrons covering every type, model and series of aircraft. Unlike any other squadrons in the fleet, pilots joining a developmental test squadron must undergo the U.S. Navy’s Test Pilot School (TPS). Here, Marine aviators de-velop a unique skill set. Students endure a rigorous academic and flight schedule over the course of 11 months, including the ability to graduate with a Master of Science in aviation and aerospace manage-ment from Purdue University.
“TPS, most plainly stated, teaches two things: how to evaluate systems and how to manage risk,” said Major Nicholas Mantz, a UH-1 pilot assigned to Air Test and Evaluation Squadron (HX) 21 at Pax River. “The real difference is that, as a test pilot, you’re doing things that no one has ever done before.”
School-trained test pilots assigned to HX-21 are responsible for operational testing of every type, model and series of rotary-wing and tiltrotor aircraft utilized by the Marine Corps. (Photo courtesy of HX-21)
“It gives you the ability to combine an aviator’s opinion with an engineering mindset,” added LtCol Aaron Okun, the commanding officer of HX-21. “We are the bridge between the fleet and the engineers. Fundamentally what we do is we test something, we evaluate it and we communicate back to the engineers what that evaluation was.”
HX-21 employs Marine test pilots to fly and evaluate all rotary wing and tiltrotor aircraft employed by the USMC. Just like the acquisition process, the test process covers every single component within each airframe.
“When we talk about acquisitions, we think about aircraft from the cradle to the grave; from the inception of the idea all the way until we sunset it,” Okun said. “We also have to do that with every product that gets implemented into the aircraft. A new engine, a new display, any new widget, whatever it is, somebody had to design that, somebody had to install it and test it and vet all the procedures. The whole process gets boiled down for the smallest little thing.”
Okun, like all test squadron commanders, is a TPS graduate and an 8059 acquisition officer. A chief test pilot and chief engineer join the CO as the most senior and experienced veterans. Every test pilot in the squadron possesses at least four years of flying experience in the fleet, and a hearty recommendation from their previous commands, prior to enrollment at TPS and commencing a three-year stint with the test squadron. Though the squadron employs hundreds of people to test, evaluate and maintain the aircraft, only about 75 are active servicemembers. For test pilots, managing projects with civilian maintainers and engineers requires leadership skills and an approach not necessarily taught at The Basic School.
For every new or upgraded product, the PMA submits a request for testing to the squadron. A test pilot is assigned as the project officer, along with a project engineer, to spearhead the task together. The project team scales up or down depending on the complexity of each task and the level of risk associated with it.
“The team designs a set of test procedures to answer all the requirements of the aircraft or product,” Mantz explained. “Once we have that shell of what the test needs to look like, we will start going through the risk management process, identifying the hazards and precautionary measures we can take to mitigate the risks.”
Marines with 1st Bn, 7th Marines, 1stMarDiv, board a CH-53K King Stallion helicopter during Marine Air-Ground Task Force Distributed Maneuver Exercise 1-25 at Camp Wilson, Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center, Twentynine Palms, Calif., on Feb. 11, 2025. (SSgt Armando Elizalde, USMC)
The specialized training test pilots receive enable them to venture into unknown territory as safely as possible. A host of sensors and monitoring devices specific to the test squadron accompany them on each journey.
“If you go out to one of our aircraft, you’ll see a ton of orange wires and devices everywhere,” said Gunnery Sergeant Jonothon Stutesman, a CH-53 crew chief assigned to HX-21. “They are all kinds of things—sensors measuring temperature, strain, pressure, you name it. This kind of telemetry is something you’re not going to find on a fleet aircraft. I don’t think a lot of people realize how much capability we have with that here. We can have a team of engineers in another room watching a live feed of all that data and advising if the flight is starting to progress in a way that may not be safe.”
The acquisition process calls for two types of testing: developmental testing (DT) and operational testing (OT).
“The easiest way to say it is that DT answers whether or not we built the thing right, OT answers whether or not we built the right thing for the mission it was intended,” Okun explained.
Developmental testers, such as HX-21 pilots, verify each specific function of the aircraft or system. If, for example, requirements call for a helicopter to lift a 10,000-pound load and carry it 300 miles, an HX-21 pilot will verify it can perform this task at a required speed and altitude. The goal of DT is to ensure the aircraft is safe, functional and technically capable of meeting every requirement. For an entirely new aircraft, like the CH-53K, dozens of test plans will be open simultaneously. The “Kilo” model remained in DT for nearly a decade.
Operational testers with Marine Operational Test and Evaluation Squadron (VMX) 1 out of Yuma, Ariz., place the new airframe or system in real-world situations, testing metrics such as reliability, maintainability and availability. These aviators come from the fleet and do not attend TPS prior to assignment with the squadron. Though not administratively managed by the MAD, the Marines at VMX-1 play a vital role in the testing process, providing data to PMAs and working in conjunction with DT squadrons.
After each test event is completed, the test squadrons return their evaluations to the PMAs, who retain ultimate responsibility for the decision to field a new product or go back to the design board. The process for even the simplest items might take at least a year from inception to fielding. As a result, often the Marines who spend a period of several years at a PMA working to bring an idea to life will not be present to witness their work come to fruition. For them, the satisfaction comes much later, seeing the aircraft or system they worked on flying across social media or in the news as Marines around the world put it to use.
The unique work Marines do in pro-gram offices around the nation delivers each capability the Corps brings to the fight. Just as any big-box store employs a dedicated team to engage suppliers and sellers to fill their shelves, Marine Corps PMAs fill the gap with civilian industry.
“The interaction we have with our commercial business partners is certainly something that makes us quite a bit different than a lot of the Marine Corps,” Shull reflected. “We interface daily with stakeholders out of uniform, the key military industrial base. This is the corporate, business side of the Marine Corps.”
PMAs remain constantly future-oriented, sustaining the equipment in use today and procuring the “state of the possible” for tomorrow. The MAD at Patuxent River operates equally future-focused, making sure all the right players are in place to acquire, test and field new technology. The critical work they perform is the first step in bringing about the vision for Marine Corps aviation to life.
Featured Photo (Top): Air Test and Evaluation Squadron (HX) 21 executes a squadron-wide formation flight on March 25, 2022, highlighting the variety of rotary-wing and tiltrotor aircraft flown and tested by HX-21 test pilots and flight test engineers. (Photo by LT Ben Putbrese, USN)
About the Author
Kyle Watts is the staff writer for Leatherneck. He served on active duty in the Marine Corps as a communications officer from 2009-13. He is the 2019 winner of the Colonel Robert Debs Heinl Jr. Award for Marine Corps History. He lives in Richmond, Va., with his wife and three children.
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Force Multiplier in the Sky: KC130J Harvest HAWK is Here to Stay
In the final hour of America’s longest war, Marine Corps Female Engagement Teams (FETs) reemerged as a viral conversation. As in too many cases, the nation required tragedy to bring the deeds of these heroic women into the light.
When the time came to evacuate Hamid Karzai International Airport (HKIA) in Kabul, Afghanistan, the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) assembled a hasty, ad hoc FET. The Marines trained for a month in the summer of 2021 to deploy at the airport’s entry gates as female search teams.
Gabby Southern, at the time the adjutant for Combat Logistics Battalion (CLB) 24, served as one of the initial officers in charge of the team when she was a lieutenant.
“I always try to be clear with people that we did not have the training going into Afghanistan that an actual Female Engagement Team would have received,” Southern said, recognizing the pioneers of FET who deployed a decade earlier. “When it was finally identified that we were deploying, several of us went to the MEU leadership and said we would need females to search people at the gates. We formed on ship in June before going to Afghanistan that August.”
On the ground, the FET divided between gates searching females and children. As the days dragged on and the crowds increased in size and volatility, the Marines stretched thin. Females from other commands on deck joined them to boost the ranks.
Among the women from CLB-24, Sergeant Nicole Gee volunteered. Her name and photograph are now tragically forever intertwined with the fatal disaster at HKIA. One of the unrehearsed collateral duties the FET undertook was to gather lost or abandoned children at improvised orphanages near each gate. Some of the most heartwarming and heartbreaking photographs from this period, including the now viral photos of Gee, are set in these locations.
MSgt Julia Watson walks with Afghan girls while on the way to meet with women in the area of Khwaja Jamal, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, on Dec. 29, 2009. (USMC Photo Courtesy of MCRD San Diego Command Museum)
By Aug. 26, 2021, mayhem surrounded the airport. Most gates shut down entirely, diverting the riotous crowd to a single entry point at Abbey Gate. Here, a team of females stood side by side with Marine infantrymen from 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines, processing civilians through. Gee and Corporal Kelsee Lainhart, an intelligence specialist with 2nd Recon Battalion, stood in front of the gate conducting hasty searches on women and children before sending them through for a more detailed search. Sgt Johanny Rosario Pichardo, another volunteer from Naval Amphibious Force, Task Force 51/5th Marine Expeditionary Brigade, worked outside the gate alongside them. Around 5:40 p.m., a suicide bomber detonated an explosive device. Rosario Pichardo and Gee both died in the explosion, along with 11 other U.S. servicemembers. Lainhart was gravely injured.
GySgt Rosalia Scifo crosses a canal during a patrol in Marjah, Afghanistan, on Dec. 30, 2010. (USMC Photo Courtesy of MCRD San Diego Command Museum)
The actions of the FET in August 2021, though far removed in training, capability and purpose from their predecessors, show-cased to a modern audience the necessity of special female teams and the courageous, indomitable women brave enough to volunteer for them. Even in the era of integrated, gender-neutral military occupational specialties (MOSs), these warriors added to the legacy and lineage of female Marines placed in extraordinary situations throughout the global war on terror, executing a duty that only they could accomplish, and committing to it, even at the cost of their lives.
The nation previously shined the spot-light on FETs almost a decade earlier, as the women who served on the initial, namesake teams adjusted to life at home after combat. At the end of 2012, Corporal Amber Fifer found herself near the center of attention in a raging national controversy. She survived extensive wounds in Afghanistan earlier that spring. She endured month after month of surgery, therapy and recovery. Photos from her Purple Heart ceremony circulated on Facebook, amassing a terrible collection of anonymous hate. Policy at the time mandated that every Friday Marines arrive for work in their service uniform, a prospect Fifer came to dread. She saw in the mirror at home a resilient young woman and warrior, one of an incredibly small handful of female Marines wearing both the Combat Action Ribbon and Purple Heart. She stood proud. At work, however, the ribbons on her blouse felt more like a scarlet letter. Some froze speechless as their heads involuntarily swiveled to follow her. Others glared, their nonverbal barbs flying. A few had the gall to actually comment.
Cpl Amber Fifer, right, and an infantryman from 2/5 interact with an Afghan child while on patrol in April 2012. (Courtesy of Amber Fifer)
“What happened? You get blown up by a mayo jar in the kitchen?”
The timing of her injuries coincided with broader events that thrust her into the limelight. A group of female servicemembers sued the Department of Defense that November to lift restrictions on women serving in combat. As the latest instance of a woman who went to war, and even got shot in the process, several news outlets pummeled Fifer as the unwitting face of the movement. Who was she? How did she end up in combat? What happened to her? Did she really think women should be allowed in combat arms?
Cpl Amber Fifer, left, and Sgt Mallory Ortiz, members of Female Engagement Team 12.1, hold the Purple Heart plaque that was presented to Fifer during a I Marine Expeditionary Force (Forward) homecoming event on Aug. 9, 2012. Fifer and Ortiz served as FET teammates in Afghanistan before Fifer was wounded on May 15 of that year.
Discerning between truly open dialogue and those who simply wished to antagonize her eroded Fifer’s spirit. Answers to the controversial topics eluded her. Fifer’s recovery exhausted her time and energy. She had not yet even begun to process how she felt about her traumatic experience in Afghanistan and what it meant for her. How should she, one Marine with one experience, speak on questions so broad? The answers, she knew, lay in a combination of experience from women across American history. The most recent and compelling experiences included Fifer and hundreds more who served on the original Marine Corps FETs, or similar U.S. Army teams, in Afghanistan. These women now stood as the prime case study of how females performed in combat. Not just in a combat zone, but on the front lines.
Cpl Erica Steele searches an Iraqi woman on the outskirts of Fallujah on Dec. 28, 2004, before the Lioness program was officially adopted. (LCpl Ryan B. Busse, USMC)
Cpl Nicole K. Estrada (above), a Lioness supporting India Btry, 3/11, instructs a woman to search herself at the female search area in Rutbah, Iraq, on March 14, 2008. (LCpl Cindy Alejandrez, USMC)
Female Engagement Team Marines with 2/6, RCT 1, meet with an Afghan doctor in Marjah, Afghanistan, on Nov. 15, 2010. (USMC Photo Courtesy of MCRD San Diego Command Museum)
The Marine FETs trace their lineage back to the early days of the global war on terror. U.S. forces entering Iraq collided with cultural differences from the western world. The society influenced by Islam placed clear boundaries on limiting interactions between unrelated men and women—boundaries that U.S. forces were careful to respect. Insurgents took advantage of this glaring security gap and utilized women and children to smuggle arms and contraband though checkpoints. Men in women’s clothing evaded Marines searching the crowd. As the war transitioned from invasion to stability operations in 2004 and 2005, the Corps established an all-female volunteer program called “Lioness,” for the purpose of searching women. Female mechanics, fuel specialists, admin clerks and more volunteered to leave their primary MOSs for the opportunity.
Lionesses stood side by side with the infantry at checkpoints around the country. Their presence achieved a significant boost in security and built rapport with the Iraqi people. Before the term “Lioness” was even recognized back in the States, horrific and historic tragedy struck. On June 23, 2005, a Marine 7-ton drove around the city of Fallujah at shift change, picking up Lionesses from their assigned entry control points. Fully loaded, the truck waited to return through a check-point when a suicide car bomb attacked. The explosion ignited the truck’s massive fuel tank and launched bodies through the air. Several Marines died instantly. More were killed or wounded in a subsequent ambush.
Lance Corporal Holly A. Charette, a mail clerk, and Cpl Ramona M. Valdez, a radio operator, were both part of the teams searching women and children in Fallujah that day. They became the first female Marines killed in Iraq. U.S. Navy Petty Officer First Class Regina Clark, a 43-year-old culinary specialist and Operation Desert Storm veteran who volunteered for Lioness, was also killed. Male Marines Cpl Chad W. Powell and Private First Class Veashna Muy died in the explosion, while Cpl Carlos Pineda was shot and killed trying to rescue others from the burning truck. The blast wounded 13 additional Marines. Eleven of those were women. The suicide bombing endured as the deadliest and most devastating attack against women servicemembers during Operation Iraqi Freedom.
The program expanded.
In 2007, 20-year-old Cpl Jennifer M. Parcell left her role as a landing support specialist to help. She assumed her new duties on Feb. 1. One week later, on Feb. 7, an Iraqi female entered her checkpoint and detonated a suicide explosive vest hidden beneath her clothes, killing Parcell. Through her death, Parcell became the tragic face of the program and one of the reasons Lioness became a widely recognized part of the Iraq war.
By 2009, the Lioness program garnered the admiration of new recruits back home.
“When I was in boot camp, one of my drill instructors had been a Lioness,” remembered Fifer. Fifer enlisted in August 2009 at age 17 along with her older sister, both of whom attended boot camp at the same time. “At first, I didn’t really know what that meant, but I remember being so enamored, like, ‘Wow, what a powerful woman, what an incredible thing to do.’ Especially at that time, with that political climate, it wasn’t lost on any of us that we could advance in our careers and we could push ourselves, but there were limitations. We were women. We were not allowed to be in combat roles. We would always be on the outskirts of all of this. I always felt we were not as special as the men, and that was so agitating, so I took it as a challenge to do anything I set my mind to.”
“One of my drill instructors was also a Lioness,” added Saje Mrowinski, who also enlisted in 2009. “I knew Lioness was not the only thing happening where females got outside the wire, but knowing the program was specifically stood up to reach the female population and utilizing female Marines, it all sounded extremely exciting to me. You get to be a part of the fight, and that’s exactly where I wanted to be.”
LCpl Saje Mrowinski, standing far left, and her partner, Cpl Maryrose Sierra, standing front row, second from right, with infantry Marines from Weapons Co, 2/9, at COP Bandini in Marjah, Afghanistan. Mrowinski and Sierra spent most of their deployment with 2/9 before the battalion changed over. (Photo courtesy of Saje Mrowinski)
Like many thousands of their male counterparts, scores of women across the nation enlisted through the mid and late-2000s. In high school or middle school, they watched the Twin Towers fall in New York City on Sept. 11, 2001, followed by an exodus of friends joining up to fight. Many women joined with an open contract, allowing the Corps to select their job for them in order to get to the fleet as quickly as possible. Rather than discussing opportunities the Marine Corps could provide and the jobs available to them, some women were first handed a list of the jobs they could not do. They proceeded, undeterred.
Also, by 2009, Lionesses achieved enough success in Iraq that senior leaders sought ways to rebuild and rebrand the program in Afghanistan. Even as U.S. troops withdrew from Iraq and the pioneering Lioness program shut down, the lessons learned translated over to the new front. The new program, called FET, would be much broader in scope; more ambitious in pushing the limits of what women were allowed to do in combat.
Lionesses served the sole purpose of conducting searches on women and children. These duties were carried out primarily from static positions, co-located with male Marines at checkpoints. The primary mission of FETs would be to build rapport with the Afghan people. Searching women and children, more than half the Afghan population, played a crucial factor in adopting the new teams, but the “hearts and minds” counter-insurgency strategy formed their basis. To accomplish this goal, the new structure attached two or three-woman teams directly to infantry units in the field. FETs would be mobile, live on the same combat outposts as the infantry, patrol with the men daily and integrate into the local Afghan communities.
Initial FETs deployed in much the same fashion as Lionesses had. Women already in country were hastily assembled and plugged in where needed. The first official FET, designated 10-1, assembled volunteers at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, Calif. They arrived in Afghanistan with little more training than the Marines already there but worked to establish themselves. Despite myriad hardships and barriers to overcome, these early FETs discovered the Afghan people largely appreciated their presence. FETs also tapped into the wealth of knowledge and influence hidden beneath the veils of Afghan women.
Perhaps the greatest challenge confronting the initial FETs was the DOD’s Combat Exclusion Policy, barring women from jobs or units assigned to direct combat. The nature of the global war on terror produced a murky definition of “the front.” Female servicemembers throughout Iraq and Afghanistan took part in numerous firefights or other combat engagements. Now, with FETs attached directly to the infantry, some lawmakers viewed their creation as a manipulation of the policy for women and an exploitation of the war’s ambiguity. By mid-2010, FETs were recalled from their outposts while senior leaders in the States debated their legality, arguing the spirit of the law versus the letter of the law. Do combat enablers, such as military police, logistics, and now FET, remain simply a support unit when directly attached and involved in combat? Or, does their mission in direct support of combat operations categorize them now as a combat unit?
In the end, FETs endured. They returned to the field, however, with restrictions in order to make them adhere to DOD policy. The Marines were not allowed to participate in infantry patrols where the express purpose was to pursue and kill the enemy. Some teams were told they could not operate at night. Most arbitrary and frustrating of all, each FET was ordered to return to the main operating base at Camp Leatherneck every 45 days for a two-day stay before returning to the field. These “resets” served simply to circumvent the policy, showing on paper that FETs were not permanently attached to the grunts.
FET 10-2 formed in summer 2010 amidst all the obstacles their predecessors were facing.
“The opportunity to be part of 10-2 came up that May,” recalled Colleen Farrell, at the time a new second lieu-tenant and air support control officer. “I didn’t really know anything about it, but it sounded incredibly rewarding and like an opportunity to be at the tip of the spear, close to the heart of the mission. There were four officers on the team, and we were really trying to just build the program. 10-1 was already in country and running into a lot of difficulties just being allowed to go out and execute their mission. So, we were trying to define what our mission would be and how to brief commanding officers of infantry battalions on how we could best help execute their mission and be a force multiplier.”
More than 50 Marines and female U.S. Navy corpsmen volunteered from around the West Coast. Saje Mrowinski was one of them. A 19-year-old open contract enlistee now stuck in a MOS she disliked, Mrowinski bucked against her command in order to create the opportunity for herself.
“I had found out about the program earlier before it was even officially released. It instantly became the one thing I wanted. I was very naive about the Marine Corps when I enlisted. I knew a couple infantry guys, one of whom was already out, and hearing their stories and seeing who they were, I thought, ‘Wow, I want to join that.’ I didn’t know females weren’t allowed in combat, didn’t know about all these laws and restrictions that would be my reality. Once I got to the fleet and learned FET could be a possibility, I immediately fought my way onto the team.”
2ndLt Colleen Farrell in Afghanistan with FET 10-2. Farrell served as one of four officers deployed with the team. She later joined FET 12-1 through their predeployment training. (Courtesy of Colleen Farrell)
Sergeant Sheena Adams seized the opportunity in a similar fashion. She left the Marine Corps for nearly two years after an uneventful first enlistment as a diesel mechanic. She reenlisted as a helicopter mechanic, hoping for a chance to go to war.
“Shortly after I got to my new unit, they told all the females there about the FET program. My gunny told me I shouldn’t do it since I just arrived, but I was like, ‘No, absolutely not.’ This was everything I ever wanted to do. This was the whole reason why I got back in. I wanted to do something from the front.”
Kimberly Martin’s path onto FET 10-2 proved unique, one of a limited number to be part of both Lioness and FET. She enlisted after high school into aviation ordnance, but in 2007 was offered the chance to become a Lioness. The following January, she deployed to Haditha, Iraq, for four months manning checkpoints and conducting searches. Her enlistment ended in August 2008. She left the Marines to work toward a college degree.
“I still had time in the IRR (Individual Ready Reserve) and one day I got a call from a prior service recruiter trying to get me back in. I told him I had done Lioness in Iraq and really wanted to do something similar again. He connected me with another recruiter at Camp Pendleton who signed me up to join FET as a reserve Marine.”
The women gathered at the Advisor Training Cell (ATC) at Camp Pendleton to begin their predeployment workup. A far cry from the bare-bones training 10-1 received, 10-2 underwent a comprehensive and taxing three-month program. Training included combat marksmanship, combat life-saving training, Tactical Combat Casualty Care, language courses, cultural courses, situational training exercises and final integration into the Mojave Viper combined arms exercise at Twentynine Palms, Calif. In August 2010, the FET boarded a waiting aircraft and flew to Afghanistan.
The Marines divided into pairs and dispersed to their assigned infantry units. Some groups possessed a third, their Navy corpsmen, to join them at the front. With no one but their sister by their side to count on, and little precedent of experience on which to build, each FET in Afghanistan encountered trials as unique as the individual women who comprised the teams. Factors far outside their control predestinated the influence they might achieve and the freedom with which they might operate. The topography of each area of operation (AO) and the level of violence it contained, the demographics of their local populations and the sway the Taliban held over them, the cooperation of each grunt unit; all of it dictated how the deployment would take shape. Regardless of their circumstances, the Marines embraced each challenge, battling to prove their worth and make a difference.
Working with the infantry proved the most immediate and persistent obstacle. Some teams found themselves attached to units who did not ask for them and did not want them. Perhaps, in some cases, a previous FET left a bad impression, or in others a team had never been with them. Some FETs attached to units where the grunt leadership embraced their presence and directed the Marines to do the same. In either case, the infantry companies mostly greeted each FET with hesitation. They weren’t grunts, weren’t guys and existed for a softer purpose, seemingly at odds with the infantry’s mission to locate and destroy the enemy.
“We were looked at with a lot of suspicion,” said Martin. “For a lot of guys, the attitude was that we were just there to get them in trouble.”
“One of the first patrols my team went on, our unit took us 8 miles, out and back, for no reason other than to try to break us off,” remembered Adams. “We carried all the gear, kept up, and didn’t complain. That was just the beginning. Every new squad, every new guy we worked with, you had to prove yourself over and over again. Initially, they viewed us as these girls they would have to take care of. They’d have to wait because we were not fast enough. They’d have to carry the weight because we were not strong enough. We had to do everything the same or better and never complain. We had to do extra to show that we were just as capable, if not more so, than some of them.”
The Afghan population simultaneously presented unique circumstances to evaluate and overcome. Some areas of the country were very receptive. Others, especially kinetic, Taliban-infested regions like Sangin, remained hostile. The pervading cultural attitude toward women hindered their efforts. Some men refused to speak with FETs without their heads covered by a hijab. Some berated or spit on them, refusing to let them speak under any conditions.
Amidst all circumstances, FETs learned to take advantage of their alien ethnicity. They were outsiders to the grunts, non-infantry types trespassing on exclusively male turf. They were outsiders to the Afghans, not the Marines they’d grown used to dealing with and not the same as the women within their own villages. FETs felt they existed as an apparent new “species,” a “third gender” evolved by the necessity of modern warfare. They were disdained by many on every side but also free to establish their role without precedent. They were Marines, but there to help, not to fight. Once the people understood this, trust took root. Villages welcomed their presence in a way the infantry might never have accomplished. Once the infantry accepted their presence, FETs worked with them to creatively generate success and access to places and information previously unreachable.
“We found incredible success with the infantry units that used each FET as a force multiplier and really believed in the added value that we brought,” Farrell stated. As an officer, Farrell oversaw three to five teams at a time, in addition to working with her staff sergeant as their own FET. “Even the male Afghans shared information with us that they would not share with the male Marines. We just had a different relationship and a different dynamic. And because of their strict cultural customs, male Marines were not allowed to interact with or do anything near Afghan women. Oftentimes, when we’d knock on a door and ask to speak with them, the women would be put in a completely separate room so that the male Marines could not engage with them. From a security standpoint, if you’re going to hide something in your house, you’re going to put it in the room where the Marines can’t go. Without FET, we were missing those areas and the entire perspective and information that women had. We had tremendous success gathering information on things like weapons caches or locations of improvised explosive devices that enabled us to save lives, but also, if you’re trying to do village stability operations, the women might have a very different perspective on what that village needs. By engaging with everyone, you have a better understanding of how the Marines can turn the tide against the Taliban and how we can actually help.”
Success resulted through hard-fought, tenacious persistence, but was ever accompanied by hardship, heartache and failure. The very nature of their work placed FETs at the center of a foreign culture steered by rampant gender discrimination; a culture they were neither equipped to change nor expected to change. By simply involving women into their conversations, FETs amplified their voices and supported their rights. In some cases, their work flourished. In others, the local male leadership trashed their efforts.
Sgts Autumn Sekely, back, and Jessica Lugo, front, provide support on patrol with Weapons Co, 3/7, in Sangin district, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, on Dec. 15, 2011. (Cpl Katherine Keleher, USMC)
Martin helped build a school in one village. Beginning in a tent outside the American outpost, Martin and her partner worked with families to gather the local children. Families received constant threats from the Taliban not to work with the Marines, but the FET persisted, even finding ways to convince the local leaders to allow little girls to attend lessons. By the time Martin’s deployment ended, 15 or 20 girls were included. Watching them seated next to the boys in school became Martin’s proudest moment from her time in Afghanistan.
Simultaneously, Adams helped create a school in her AO. After nearly seven months of work, between 30 to 70 boys were in attendance four days a week. The FET worked to include girls in the school, but the men of the community refused to allow it, even beating the girls who briefly attended. The experience endured with Adams as an intensely bittersweet memory.
Additional setbacks occurred each time the FETs attached to a new infantry company. Deploying on a different schedule than the grunts, teams worked with multiple units moving in and out of country, which caused distrust among the local population.
“Every time a battalion changeover happened, things got extremely hostile again,” said Mrowinski. “All the locals figured it out quickly, and it reset all the progress you’ve made. As soon as you stepped outside the wire, that was very evident.”
Friction increased not just with the locals, but with the grunts. FETs started from scratch through each battalion changeover to reestablish bonds with the infantry squads and prove to the local population their commitments remained the same.
Through all the challenges, work, success and setbacks, FETs remained very much in combat. Their “resets” at Camp Leatherneck occurred with maddening regularity, skirting the Combat Exclusion Policy, but failing to alter their experience on the ground.
“I was being shot at on my first day in Afghanistan,” Mrowinski said. “It was just like being fully immersed into everything you ever thought might be a possibility, and now it is your reality.”
In the Nawzad District of northern Helmand Province, Adams’ FET was tasked with rebuilding relationships in Salaam Bazar after previous units razed it to the ground. Their efforts yielded no progress. On Nov. 2, 2010, after another failed engagement, their four-vehicle convoy departed the town. The second vehicle, with Adams on board, struck an IED. The blast rocked the occupants, inflicting traumatic brain injuries on each Marine and an injured ankle and broken clavicle on the gunner.
“This happened in the afternoon and there were no wreckers available,” Adams said. “We ended up in a small firefight, but things calmed down after dark. We stayed there all night. We had another firefight first thing in the morning, then the first wrecker assigned to come get us hit another IED on the way. Throughout the day, we could see black figures moving into the area. Later in the afternoon, by the time another wrecker was coming out to us, we ended up in a significant firefight taking fire from three sides. We were too close for air support, so an F-18 did a low flyover as a show of force. That gave us time to get the truck hooked up to the wrecker and pulled out. Everybody survived, but we ended up out there for about 36 hours.”
Sgt Sheena Adams, at the time an instructor with I MEF Advisor Training Cell, ties a handmade bracelet on the wrist of Cpl Charity Thacker, a team leader with FET 12-1, at Camp Pendleton, Calif., on March 20, 2012. Adams deployed with FET 10-2 before returning as an instructor, helping prepare FET 12-1 through their predeployment training. (LCpl Joshua Young, USMC)
A Female Engagement Team sits with the women of an Afghan family to discuss their medical needs in Habib Abad, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, on March 28, 2010. (USMC Photo Courtesy of MCRD San Diego Command Museum)
Adams was evaluated and given 24 hours bed rest. She remained in country performing her duties until the 10-2 deployment concluded. Headaches tormented her throughout that time. Over the next several years, migraines increased in frequency and ferocity until a doctor finally recommended brain surgery to relieve the pressure inside her skull. To the present day, Adams has not received a Purple Heart.
The 10-2 deployment ended in April 2011. Many of the Marines requested extensions. Seven months was nowhere near long enough. They worked tirelessly earning respect, proving their worth, improving communities and establishing themselves within their AO. Passing it all off to the next green team felt unfathomable. The FET disbanded as soon as the Marines returned to Camp Pendleton.
“When our Marines got home, we had no decompression period at all,” remembered Farrell. “Within three days, everyone went back to their original commands. These were commands who hadn’t deployed and hadn’t gone through the same combat experiences. The FET didn’t get R&R. They didn’t get the types of services that units typically get when they are returning home, either physically or mentally.”
“This was unique to FET and incredibly detrimental in many ways,” Mrowinski reflected. “Most Marines coming home from a combat deployment return with their units that they just experienced life changing events with, death, destruction, humanity at its most raw, but they have a group with which they have understanding and can process together. … Then, you have a bunch of women who just experienced things that will be questioned, downgraded and misunderstood by others once they return to their parent commands that have often not seen combat. Not to mention, the FETs had common experiences, but the only person you deployed with was your teammate, and they too would be ripped away from you in less than three days’ time as you are trying to reacclimate to being back on safe American soil. In a sense, it’s like being left behind, where most will never know what you had done or been through, and just about everyone wouldn’t believe you, as well as being told you will not get to do this ever again. It was a very profound experience.”
Responsibility shifted to II Marine Expeditionary Force on the East Coast to provide the next year’s FETs. While 11-1 and 11-2 worked up and deployed from Camp Lejeune, N.C., the ATC at Camp Pendleton prepared for 12-1, the next team they would be responsible for training. Adams and Mrowinski remained involved as ATC instructors. Farrell joined as one of the 12-1 officers set to deploy again. These three Marines, with their firsthand experience, helped evolve the training program into the most robust version it had ever seen. The three-month work-up they experienced nearly doubled, spanning from the fall of 2011 through spring 2012. Fifer and 40 other women volunteered and completed the training—perhaps the best prepared FET ever assembled and ready to go.
Broader national events conspired against the team, even as it completed the intense training cycle. In June 2011, President Barack Obama announced the final phase of his plan to withdraw from Afghanistan, to be completed by summer 2012. FET 12-1 suffered the consequences.
“Two weeks before we were set to deploy, they cut the team in half,” said Farrell, one of the team members slashed from the final roster.
Fifer remained on the team and landed in Afghanistan in March 2012. Paired with her team leader, Corporal Mallory Ortiz, the Marines attached to Weapons Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines.
“Going to Afghanistan was wild,” she said. “I just remember feeling very out of my depth. It was a whole entire social landscape that we had to navigate.”
They worked to overcome stereotypes and assumptions. Slowly, they developed relationships with the infantrymen surrounding them.
“Every single chance we got, we tried to get out on patrol. I’m sure the men we were working alongside were like, ‘Ugh, another patrol,’ and then you’ve got these two women who are super freaking jazzed to go out. We just tried to take advantage of every opportunity. Some of the guys seemed annoyed by our presence and didn’t want us there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dogging on them. This is their job. We’re coming in and we’re creating this potentially hazardous environment for them. They didn’t know what our training looked like. They didn’t know how capable we were. They had to approach us with caution.”
At the beginning of May, the FET departed with Weapons Company’s 3rd platoon on a multi-day mounted patrol to a village in the Musa Qal’eh District of Helmand Province. They found the village evacuated except for a single family: one man with his brother, his two wives and 10 children. The Marines spent the night in a wadi below the town. The next morning, May 11, 2012, the convoy planned to return home. Fifer’s vehicle struck an IED on the way out of town, knocking off a front wheel.
“The whole patrol halted and we were just like, ‘What the hell? We were just here the day before and this wasn’t here.’ ” Fifer remembered. “Everybody dismounted and went back into the village. The infantry detained the two men from that family. To us, it was obvious they were part of this.”
The Marines returned to their vehicles as they waited for permission to bring in the men for questioning. Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, pushing the temperature well over 100 degrees. Fifer sat in the back seat of her disabled vehicle, surrounded by Marines in other seats and one standing next to her in the turret. She propped her door open, inviting a merciful breeze into the cab. Finally, battalion headquarters advised the platoon did not have enough information to detain the Afghans and to release them. Outside Fifer’s vehicle, grunts cut the two men loose. One of them ran into the poppy field next to her. He disappeared momentarily, unearthing an AK-47. He stood, swiveled and opened fire.
Cpl Mary Walls and an interpreter speak with Afghan civilians in Musa Qa’leh, Helmand Province, Afghanistan, on Aug. 2, 2010. (USMC Photo Courtesy of MCRD San Diego Command Museum)
Fifer occupied the seat closest to the shooter. In seconds, five bullets tore through both her arms and both her legs. Another bullet struck the leg of the Marine standing in the turret. Sergeant Wade D. Wilson was outside the vehicle when the shooting began. He drew his M9 service pistol and charged the insurgent, firing as he closed the distance. He pressed ahead, even as enemy rounds struck him over and over, until fatal wounds overwhelmed him. His jaw-dropping, unhesitating actions drove the insurgent away and into the fire of other Marines, who killed him.
On the third deployment of his career, Wilson served as the platoon sergeant in charge of his platoon. He had already received meritorious promotion to private first class, lance corporal and corporal, and at the time of his death, was up for meritorious promotion to staff sergeant. For his astounding, selfless sacrifice, Wilson posthumously received the Silver Star.
“Sergeant Wilson saw what was happening and put himself between us and the shooter,” Fifer remembered. “He put himself between us, and he saved us. God, it couldn’t have been more than a minute. It was just so fast. He was really a wonderful person. I didn’t know him that well, but I was so grateful for the opportunity to know him at all. He was incredibly kind and gracious to Ortiz and I. He was so accepting of our presence, and he wanted us to be there alongside them. His support for us felt so genuine.”
Fifer was evacuated to the United States for treatment and recovery. Having hardly begun her work, leaving Afghanistan devastated her. The abrupt and unexpected ending of her deployment sadly mirrored the end of FET as a whole. The rest of 12-1 closed out their deployment in the fall of 2012. When they returned home, the entire program shut down. Adams remained assigned as an ATC instructor by that point. She was tasked to reinvent a condensed version of the FET training she had helped evolve to be utilized moving forward by MEUs preparing for deployment.
“I asked for two months to put them through everything,” Adams explained. “They told me, ‘You get two weeks.’ ”
Adams cherry-picked the most important aspects from her own experience and the feedback of other FET Marines to craft the MEU course. In April 2013, the 13th MEU assembled female Marines from its different subordinate units. Now, in addition to the rest of their predeployment training, these Marines attended the hurried FET instruction. For them, FET would look dramatically different; a subordinate, collateral duty assembled as needed, if at all, while on deployment. After barely three years in operation, the dedicated, deployable teams ceased to exist.
The women of FET returned to their MOS fields and determined their next steps. Leaders like Farrell continued advocating even after their disbandment.
“As an officer, it was very hard to ensure that my Marines received Combat Action Ribbons, which obviously affects their career and impacts them to this day if they try to get VA healthcare or services.”
U.S. Army female servicemembers witnessed similar struggles. Cultural Support Teams (CSTs), the Army equivalent of FET, formed in support of Special Operations on classified missions. In November 2012, Farrell joined forces with another female Marine officer and two female U.S. Army soldiers, all combat veterans, as plaintiffs in the lawsuit against the DOD arguing for the repeal of combat exclusion. Their personal experiences, along with hundreds of other women in Iraq and Afghanistan, held legal standing in the case. They contended the policy was outdated, harmful and unnecessarily limiting for female servicemembers.
“I was still on active duty when I joined the lawsuit, so I had to think through those initial implications, but my instinct was that it was the right thing to do” Farrell said. “I felt, as an officer, it was my obligation to use my voice to get rid of this policy that was harming my Marines, and also harming the Marine Corps’ capability. It was incredibly challenging, but I knew it was the right decision. I was very surprised how quickly the policy was repealed.”
Less than two months later, on Jan. 24, 2013, Defense Secretary Leon Panetta signed the order lifting combat exclusion. It would take several more years before women truly integrated into combat roles. Still, the effects of combat exclusion linger into present day. In November 2025, U.S. Congressmen Darrell Issa reintroduced a bill called the “Jax Act,” named after U.S. Army veteran Jaclyn “Jax” Scott. The bipartisan legislation aims to correct the service records of hundreds of Army CST members who served with Special Operations in Iraq and Afghanistan but never received recognition for being in combat. The legislation would enable female soldiers access to additional disability compensation and benefits through the Department of Veterans Affairs. As of this writing, the Jax Act is still pending approval and applies specifically to Army CSTs. Marine FETs who may also have gone unrecognized or misclassified are not included.
Today, the legacy of original Marine FETs and Lionesses manifests in a palpable juxtaposition of pride and sorrow.
“Having been part of FET was one of the biggest accomplishments of my life,” Fifer reflected. “I’m still so honored for the opportunity to have been part of something so impactful. Us being women in that climate was so important, and yet we were overlooked by so many. We were such a small piece of such a large picture that we just get washed out really easily. There are a lot of women who had to sacrifice a lot in order to be on these deployments and be part of something so controversial.”
Throughout her healing during the months after combat exclusion was lifted, Fifer remained an advocate for female servicemembers amidst a flak storm of discrimination. She absorbed repeated blows, some even blaming her for Wilson’s death. Her nine-year career ended when she was medically retired.
“FET was everything I ever wanted to do,” said Adams. “I got to go make a difference. I got to go be the Marine I never thought I’d get the chance to be. For that I am
Sgt Jessica Domingo and Cpl Daisy Romero stop to speak with locals in a compound during a patrol in Marjah, Afghanistan, on Dec. 30, 2010. (USMC Photo Courtesy of MCRD San Diego Command Museum)
thankful. But, the pullout from Afghanistan was extremely saddening. All the work that we did, all the potential we saw in communities; we should have never gone there if that’s the way we were going to treat it. People are still trying to get out because they helped us there. I know we made a difference there, it just didn’t last as long as we hoped it would. I still think about those kids.”
“Being part of Lioness and FET was probably the greatest and worst experience of my life,” Martin reflected today. “It was great because it was groundbreaking stuff, something I would never trade, and definitely changed the way I deal with people today. The whole Afghan withdrawal though, seeing the way it went down, just made me feel like the biggest fraud. We told these people, ‘We’re here to help you, here to support you, here to make your lives better. Don’t be afraid of the Taliban, you can stand up for yourself.’ That’s not true at all anymore. It makes you feel like a failure. You made these promises that ultimately weren’t kept, and now who knows what’s going on over there. I think about those little girls. They’re grown women by now. What happened to them?”
What does the future hold for FET? With an integrated infantry, what roles might special female teams play in the next war? It feels inefficient and half-hearted to task a female infantry Marine with executing her primary job while simultaneously taking up the “hearts and minds” mission of cultural support on the front lines. It seems clear women will be required to perform this type of dedicated duty wherever Marines may go. For certain, there will always be inspired Marines who volunteer, standing proudly on the shoulders of the trailblazing women who came before. Their legacy endures in its impact on the entire U.S. military.
“The work that female servicemembers did in Iraq and Afghanistan directly led to the repeal of combat exclusion,” Farrell stated. “All FET members, and everyone who contributed to this mission, should be proud. It’s much broader than the individual things we did over there on a daily basis. It’s history changing, and it impacted generations of men and women in the service.”
Featured Photo (Top): LCpl Sienna De Santis and HM3 Heidi Dean, both with Female Engagement Team, India Co, 3/5, RCT 2, greet children during a patrol in Sangin Valley, Afghanistan, on Oct. 29, 2010. (Photo by Cpl David Hernandez, USMC)
About the Author
Kyle Watts is the staff writer for Leatherneck. He served on active duty in the Marine Corps as a communications officer from 2009-13. He is the 2019 winner of the Colonel Robert Debs Heinl Jr. Award for Marine Corps History. He lives in Richmond, Va., with his wife and three children.
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Safeguarding The Airspace: Marine Air Traffic Controllers’ Critical Role In Marine Aviation
April is Month of the Military Child, a chance to recognize the sacrifices all military children make during and after their parents’ service. An organization that understands these sacrifices and strives to honor them is the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation (MCSF).
No matter when a Marine served, the MCSF believes their families deserve support. The Scholarship Foundation’s mission is simple: Honor Marines by educating their children. Children of Marines who served honorably and demonstrate financial need are eligible for four years of scholarship support as they attend college or technical school.
For many students, applying for an MCSF scholarship is a chance to connect more deeply with their parents’ service. For those scholarship recipients whose parents served before they were born or retired before they could remember, completing the military parent section of the application is often a way to open the discussion about their parents’ service.
Christian Cirilo was searching for ways to help pay for his college education when he came across the MCSF. When he started looking into his father’s service to complete his application, he was surprised by what he discovered. “I pulled out his footlocker, which contained his photo albums, awards and commendations he received, along with his uniforms. It was his dress blues adorned with his ribbons and badges that made me wonder,” he said.
Christian’s father, veteran Sergeant John Cirilo, served in the Gulf War. When Christian asked, John shared stories of his service and a logbook he had kept. He told Christian, “I am a United States Marine, and we represent something bigger than ourselves.”
The many conversations they began to have got Christian wondering whether he had what it took to become a Marine. Originally, he had intended to study busi-ness in college to become a financial plan-ner. Now, he studies criminal law at the University of Tampa and made the dean’s list his most recent semester. He has also chosen to participate in the Re-serve Officers’ Training Corps, with the goal of attending Officer Candidates School and being commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Marine Corps. After completing his own service, he intends to apply to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Christian Cirilo
Autumn Fanella
“I believe that my career change and pursuit of service to my community and country in the Marine Corps and later in federal law enforcement are aligned with my aspirations and future goals. I remain committed to the ‘be in the service of others’ mindset and look forward to chal-lenging myself along the way,” Christian told the Scholarship Foundation in his most recent note.
Christian’s story is one heard often at MCSF. The application
Gavin Gros
sparks questions about a part of their parents’ lives these students may not have fully understood.
For the Marine parents, these moments are a chance to share the privilege and sacrifice of serving in the Corps with their children. But these conversations don’t stop after the application is complete.
Autumn Fanella is a four-time scholarship recipient who is about to complete her studies in international relations and Russian at the University of Pittsburgh. Her father, veteran Corporal Richard T. Fanella, served in Operation Desert Storm before being honorably discharged and starting his family. Though Cpl Fanella raised Autumn and her five siblings with the Marine Corps values of honor, courage and commitment, Autumn never had the opportunity to directly experience his deployments or service. The Scholarship Foundation was a chance for her to ask her father about what it was like to be a Marine.
“This scholarship has also given me the opportunity to connect more with my dad; he has sacrificed so much for his family, and I am grateful that I have had the chance to make him proud while studying at school,” she said.
With her father, Autumn attended the Scholarship Foundation’s Steel City Awards Dinner and con-nected with other Marine veterans and their children. In her application, she highlighted how the event gave her a deeper appreciation for her father’s service and, more broadly, that all of veterans. “Our veterans have sacrificed so much for their country. … I was able to talk with donors and veterans, as well as listen to guest speakers. I will remember this event for the rest of my life.”
Bolstered by the values instilled in her by her father, Autumn dreams of a career in government intelligence work. “My father’s service has inspired me to find my own way to serve my country with my education,” Autumn said. In addition to being a Marine Scholar, Autumn will receive a Fulbright-Hays scholarship to study abroad in Almaty, Kazakhstan. Currently, Autumn is in a special Russian-as-a-second-language program in Tbilisi, Georgia. As her father worked to bring democracy to the Middle East in the 1990s, today Autumn “hopes to promote principles of Western democracy and be that tie with the Western world that might help
For many students, applying for an MCSF scholarship is a chance to connect more deeply with their parents’ service.
Georgian youth in their struggle for democracy in the future.” As Autumn makes decisions about her future career, her father’s service continues to shape her life and career goals.
Marine parents shape their children not only by how they serve but also by how they choose to live and pursue careers upon returning to civilian life. Often, the determination and dedication with which they work makes their children interested in the same industry. Many Marine Scholars choose to study a subject related to either their parents’ area of military service, like mechanics, or post-service career, like engineering.
As a first-generation college student, Gavin Gros balances life as a full-time scholar, athlete and volunteer while he studies mechanical engineering at Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology. A multi-year scholarship recipient, he has been able to focus on his studies, rather than having to work a part-time job to cover his tuition.
After he was awarded his scholarship, Gavin said, “Sharing this news with my family, especially my father, a Marine Corps veteran, was a moment of profound connection. His reaction was one of immense pride, knowing that the values he upheld during his service continue to inspire and support the next generation.” Veteran Sergeant Roland Gros was honorably discharged when Gavin was young, before he could fully understand the impact of his father’s service. Applying for a scholarship was Gavin’s opportunity to hear stories of his father’s deployments and learn about lessons the Marine Corps taught him.
On campus, Gavin volunteers with several on campus organizations, including one focusing on supporting disabled individuals in their local community. He helps lead events, fundraises and works on raising awareness across the area. Additionally, Gavin plays on the Fightin’ Engineers football team, participating in 16 of their games in his first two years. He credits his veteran father instilling the values of discipline, resilience and dedication in him—“principles that have guided me through academic challenges and personal growth.”
These values helped him to gain admission into one of the top engineering programs for undergraduates in the country, after graduating fourth-highest in his high school class. His career isn’t only shaped by his father’s legacy of military service; when Gavin was a kid, he would work with his dad and grandfather repairing semi-trucks and their family car. This sparked an interest in mechanics and machines that drives him today.
Last summer, Gavin completed an engineering internship at DRC, a company known for innovative approaches to product engineering. The internship allowed him to work with experienced engineers, gain valuable insights into professional engineering processes and begin building his career. After graduating, he plans to work in the automotive industry, developing electric or automated cars, or in the aerospace industry, developing innovative technology to advance scientific discovery. He said his father’s “dedication, sacrifice and commitment to serving others have inspired [him] to strive for excellence in everything [he does.]” He continued, “I am proud to carry on his legacy of service and honor, and I am grateful for the invaluable lessons he taught me.”
Fifty members of the MCSF Class of 2025 gathered at a scholarship announcement ceremony last August to celebrate their academic futures.
Christian, Autumn and Gavin are just three of the nearly 3,000 students the Scholarship Foundation will support this academic year. Each one of these families has a story shaped by military service. Some students’ parents are still on active duty, deploying around the world to protect the freedoms of their fellow citizens. However, the majority of our scholars are students whose parents served before they can remember. No matter when their parents served, these children are raised on the Marine Corps values of honor, courage and commitment.
The Scholarship Foundation awards every eligible applicant with scholarship support, making them an organization that lies at the intersection of real need and lasting impact for Marine families. Scholarship amounts range from $2,500 to $10,000, with an average of $4,200 per student each year. The scholarship is renewable for all four years of their education. For many students, a scholarship can cover the majority or entirety of their tuition. Students can also use their scholarship funds for room and board, books and study abroad opportunities. Funds are sent directly to the school, ensuring they are used in the student’s area of greatest need.
These scholarships make a lasting impact on scholars and their families. One hundred percent of recipients report that their scholarship had an impact on their ability to attend college or technical school, with 88 percent reporting a significant impact. Sixty-two percent of senior Marine Scholars graduated with little to no debt (less than $10,000), compared to 32 percent nationally, according to a 2025 study by College Board. Further, the Education Data Initiative found that the national average debt is $38,375 upon college graduation. All of these metrics demonstrate how the MCSF helps relieve a real financial burden for Marine families.
The majority of our scholars are students whose parents served before they can remember. No matter when their parents served, these children are raised on the Marine Corps values of honor, courage and commitment.
The MCSF is more than a scholarship check. In addition to scholarship support, the foundation provides free and confidential resources to recipients and their families. These include counseling, legal and financial assistance and tutoring. Through a variety of engagement platforms, the Scholarship Foundation keeps in touch with students, provides internship and job opportunities and fosters strong relationships.
MCSF scholarship recipients report a variety of positive impacts for themselves and their families—stress reduction, feeling more connected to the Marine Corps and their parents’ service, less debt and higher GPAs. This holistic programing approach puts Marine Scholars and their families first and is recognized around the scholarship community. In 2022, MCSF received the Scholarship Provider of the Year Award from the National Scholarship Provider’s Association.
While there are many ways to honor our nation’s heroes, the Scholarship Foundation has been a source of reliable support for the Marine community for more than 60 years. Students raised on Marine values, like Christian, Autumn and Gavin, are raised to be driven to make a difference. After their parents sacrificed so much for our nation, finances should never be an obstacle for these children to become future leaders in their chosen fields.
The MCSF is the nation’s oldest and largest provider of need-based scholarships to military children. You can learn more about the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation, including how to support these deserving families, at mcsf.org.
Featured Photo (Top): Ted Probert, the president and CEO of the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation (MCSF), far left, meets with scholarship recipients at Marine Barracks Washington. For more than 60 years, the MCSF has provided scholarships to children of Marines, 62% of whom graduate with little to no debt.
Note: All photos featured in this article are courtesy of the MCSF.
About the Author
Claire Quinn works as the assistant director of communications for the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation and earned an MA in writing from Johns Hopkins University. She resides in Virginia with her husband, son and cat.
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Keeping the Marine Corps Competitive On the Range and On the Battlefield
Since 1775, the U.S. Marine Corps has prided itself on the martial skill of its members. The Marine has long been revered as an expert marksman, capable of precision on the battlefield surpassing that of any foe. Just as important, however, is the long arm itself. No amount of training and skill can fully compensate for a substandard weapon. For the Marine Corps’ renowned snipers and competitive shooters, nothing less than the finest equipment will suffice. Located on Marine Corps Base Quantico, Va., the Precision Weapons Section (PWS) is tasked with building and maintaining a fleet of such arms for the Marine Corps’ most elite.
PWS is a versatile organization that ably fulfills a wide range of responsibilities related to small arms. It is a one-of-a-kind unit whose accordingly unique mission requires a select team of specially trained technicians, true experts with skills far in excess of what would be expected from any 2111 (small arms repairer) in the fleet. The Marines of PWS hold the military occupational specialty of 2112 (precision weapons repairer), equivalent in the civilian world to a master machinist specializing in gunsmithing.
To fill its own ranks, PWS runs four overlapping six-month sessions per year called the Precision Weapons Repair Course (PWRC) to train existing 2111s in the technical skills needed to build and maintain the Marine Corps’ finest small arms. Marines are recruited annually for the course; to apply, a 2111 holding the rank of corporal or sergeant must have just reenlisted and must be eligible for a permanent change of station to MCB Quantico. Applicants are screened for knowledge and aptitude; prior civilian experience as a machinist is not required. The most difficult part of the recruiting process, according to CWO5 Joseph Bering, former officer in charge (OIC) of PWS, is to find applicants with the proper qualifications. Many units find that Marines with the requisite knowledge are too valuable to give up.
New students in the PWRC begin by using older, manually operated machines such as lathes, mills and drill presses to manufacture their own tools to use throughout the course. Not just a cost-saving measure, this process teaches students how to perform basic machining operations without the aid of computer control.
Even in the age of computer numerical control (CNC), manual machining is often faster and easier for simple operations. Here, Sgt Brian Clark uses his skills as a precision weapons repairer on a manually operated drill press. (Photo by LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
Discarded after extensive service, this precision rifle chassis will see new life in precision rifle matches. Its folding stock hinge has been welded shut, trading compactness for stability. (LCpl David Brandes, USMC)This complex fixture holds a workpiece securely while moving and rotating it in a 5-axis CNC milling machine, which uses a variety of cutting tools to produce complex geometries. (LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
“The main value in manual machining is a thorough understanding of the process and the capability to do it,” explained Master Gunnery Sergeant Joseph Kennedy, the current staff noncommissioned OIC at PWS. Even in the age of computer numerical control (CNC) manufacturing, those skills are still essential. “A CNC can, and in some cases does, do the lion’s share of the work,” Kennedy said, “but when you are taking components from various manufacturers, all with their own tolerances, and trying to get the best product out of it, sometimes the best way is by hand.”
After mastering manual machining, students learn to program and operate the mammoth 5-axis CNC mill, the wire electrical discharge machining (EDM) machine, anodizing baths and other sophisticated equipment. Students use computer-aided design software to digitally model an object, then run it through a second piece of software called a slicer to convert the virtual object into G-code, a set of instructions that tell the machine how to turn a raw block of metal into a complete part.
Upon successfully completing the PWRC, a newly minted 2112 will work at PWS for the remainder of his or her three-year assignment before being sent back out to the fleet to manage a battalion arms room at any large base around the world. While at PWS, though, 2112s work on a variety of manufacturing projects which make full use of their extensive training: A Marine might spend one day at a lathe recycling scrap barrels into muzzle devices for competition rifles and the next day at a computer designing unmanned aircraft system (UAS) parts for 3D printing.
In the Precision Weapons Repair Course, Marines hone their skills on manual machines (above left) before learning to program complex toolpaths on the 5-axis CNC mill (above right). The CNC mill’s tool head sprays water on the workpiece to cool it from the intense friction of machining and wash away metal chips. (Photos by LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
Inside the Job of a 2112
Harlee Hall, PWS’ headquarters on MCB Quantico, is a veritable gunsmith’s playground: In addition to arms rooms like one might find at any Marine Corps base, it contains a fully equipped machine shop with the capability to assemble, maintain and manufacture parts for all the small arms in the Marine Corps’ arsenal. There, 2112s can transform a solid block of material into a finished product ready for the field. In addition to the equip-ment taught at the PWRC, the machine shop holds a high-pressure water jet that can quickly and precisely cut complex shapes for flat parts. Soon, PWS expects to begin 3D printing in metal via wire arc additive manufacturing as well.
Such advanced manufacturing capabilities, though, would be useless without the ability to test the firearms. To evaluate the weapons built and modified there, PWS also operates a highly sophisticated shooting range which in some ways functions like a laboratory. Operators use a recoiling test sled to stabilize a weapon and eliminate human error, then fire out into a field next to the building. This range uses no physical targets; instead, as each bullet passes through a rectangular window downrange, an array of microphones detects and records the shot’s “impact” on a virtual grid. To perform reliability testing and collect ballistic data in a wide range of environmental conditions, the facility also includes a freezer and an oven.
All this complex testing equipment is necessary in part because PWS is responsible for building and maintaining the Marine Corps shooting teams’ arsenals. Supporting just one military shooting team would be a full-time job, but PWS rebuilds pistols, rifles and shotguns for the shooting teams at every Marine Corps installation around the world. Competitive marksmanship arose out of a desire to hone military riflemen’s skills with their service weapons, but mass-produced rifles and ammunition are simply not up to the task. While sufficiently accurate for combat use, the M16A4 must be significantly reworked to enhance its accuracy and add the features necessary to turn it into a viable competition rifle.
Marine Corps shooting teams have historically used the National Match M16A4, a standard service rifle rebuilt for competition at PWS. Lead weights are added to the fixed stock and rail system, the mil-spec trigger is exchanged for a match-grade replacement made by Geissele, and the typical chrome-lined carbon steel barrel is replaced by a heavy stainless match barrel of the same length. PWS armorers machine each barrel individually from a rifled blank—they cut the chamber, turn down the profile, crown and thread the muzzle and mount and headspace a barrel extension for the bolt to lock into. The end result of this Cinderella-like transformation is a weapon that outwardly appears nearly indistinguishable from any other M16A4 but weighs twice as much and is capable of far superior accuracy. The National Match M16A4’s 17-pound bulk helps keep the weapon steady when it is fired from a fixed position, as is required for the Highpower Rifle shooting sport.
PWS rebuilds many competition rifles, like this National Match M16A4, from worn-out service rifles. (LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
At PWS, nothing ever goes to waste. PWRC students will machine these scraps of shot-out sniper rifle barrels into muzzle devices for competition rifles, practicing their manual machining skills as well as reusing the steel. (LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
Since its inception, competitive rifle shooting has had a very slow, deliberate pace, with a strong emphasis toward long-range accuracy on bull’s-eye targets. A typical stage might give the shooter 10 minutes to fire just 10 rounds at a circular target hundreds of yards away. This type of shooting hones the fundamentals of marksmanship and allows the shooter to make the most of his or her rifle, but it has not been representative of typical combat engagements since at least the 19th century. Beginning in about the 1950s, the world of competitive shooting began to embrace “practical shooting”—faster-paced matches taking place at much shorter distances. Informed by military and law enforcement experience, practical shooting, also known as action shooting, emphasizes speed and agility in addition to accuracy. PWS has developed an upgrade package to allow Marine Corps shooting teams to remain competitive, exclusively using parts already in the military logistics system so that armorers can upgrade National Match M16s in inventory to the new Combat Match M16 standard.
Taking cues from the civilian competition circuit, the Combat Match M16 is significantly lighter and more compact than both its predecessor and the standard M16A4 from which both are derived. The 20-inch heavy-profile barrel is cut down to 18 inches and reprofiled to reduce weight, the fixed stock is replaced with an ergonomic adjustable one, and the A-frame front sight tower is milled down to provide a clear line of sight when using magnified optics. All in all, the Combat Match M16 measures 34 inches long with the stock fully collapsed, and it tips the scales at just 7.7 pounds—less than half the weight of the National Match rifle. Despite all the weight reduction, accuracy isn’t substantially impaired; the new rifle can still shoot better than 1.5 minutes of arc even with service ammunition. The Combat Match M16’s resemblance to the M27 infantry automatic rifle is intentional—competitive shooters in the fleet now have a match rifle with similar performance and handling characteristics to their service weapons.
Competitive shooting helps to advertise for the Marine Corps and can serve as a training aid. PWS and Weapons Training Battalion have made efforts to apply lessons learned from dynamic competitive shooting to the way Marines train, enhancing their performance in combat. PWS pays close attention to trends in the competition world to inform its work; for example, a stage that forces the shooter to move around and engage targets at various unknown distances on a timer is the best way to simulate the physiological and psychological stress of combat without placing anyone in actual danger. That environment can therefore be used as an impromptu testing ground for new ideas. Although competitive shooting formats have changed over the years, the relation-ship between the competition world and the operational Marine Corps via PWS is an old one.
1stLt Scott Ambridge, a member of the Marine Corps Shooting Team, trains at MCB Quantico, July 27, 2021. As PWS adapts to the modern battlefield, it has transitioned from traditional bull’s-eye targets to practical shooting formats that emphasize speed and agility. (Photo by Tia Dufour)
The History of PWS
PWS traces its lineage back to 1966 with the foundation of the Rifle Team Equipment Section, which, as the name suggests, existed to support the Marine Corps shooting teams. They also provided some advanced gunsmithing training, but not through a formalized course of instruction like the modern-day PWRC.
The Rifle Team Equipment Section began providing equipment to the op-erational side of the Marine Corps in the early 1970s, prompted by problems experienced with the M40 in Vietnam. The original M40 was the first sniper rifle not based on an existing service weapon, instead starting life as a com-mercially produced Remington Model 40-X. Like the M14, the M40’s walnut stock tended to swell and warp in the humid jungle climate of southeast Asia, interfering with barrel harmonics and diminishing accuracy. In response, the Rifle Team Equipment Section began upgrading M40s to the M40A1 standard, using fiberglass stocks molded individually in the garage of one Gale McMillan, whose company is now one of the industry leaders in fiberglass rifle stock manufacturing. In 2003, the M40 platform was further upgraded with the M40A3, built on all new receivers and barrels, and equipped with improved McMillan stocks with adjustable cheek risers. Combat experience in Iraq and Afghanistan led later M40A3s to be equipped with Schmidt & Bender 3-12x illuminated scopes, superior to the old 3-9x Redfield models, and rails for clip-on night vision devices. The M40A5, introduced in 2009, had the addition of a muzzle brake with a quick-attach mount for a sound suppressor. And 2013 saw the M40A6, equipped with a barrel five inches shorter, mounted in a Remington Accessory Chassis System with a folding stock. These changes made for a much more compact rifle, allowing Marines to ruck with it in their packs. Every M40 from the M40A1 in 1977 until the platform’s replacement with the MK 22 Advanced Sniper Rifle in 2024 was hand-built and tuned by the 2112s at PWS.
Competitive shooting is a matter of prestige for the Marine Corps, and as such, PWS performs aesthetic as well as performance modifications for the members of the Marine Corps Shooting Team. “Being able to make that look ‘pretty’ for them makes them feel good,” says SSgt Brian Greunke, himself an accomplished competitive shooter. (Photo by LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
The section also has a long history of upgrading M14s into precision rifles. While the M14 looks on paper like an appealing base for a highly capable semi-automatic precision rifle, the platform suffers from inherent accuracy problems which require extensive modification to address. Starting with the National Match M14’s double-lug receiver, which improves the consistency of the bedding between itself and the stock, PWS developed the M14 Designated Marksman’s Rifle (DMR) with a McMillan stock and a fixed 10x. It entered the service in 1998 and was later replaced by the Enhanced Marksman’s Rifle, with a modular aluminum chassis and the same Schmidt & Bender scope as contemporary M40A3s. During the global war on terrorism, the enhanced M14s were eventually phased out in favor of the M110 and SAM-R, the latter of which was the last model of firearm that PWS produced for the operational side of the Marine Corps.
With the scout sniper program defunct and the M36 filling the DMR role, one might imagine that PWS is now redundant, but nothing could be further from the truth. As the Marine Corps’ clearinghouse for precision machining expertise and a unit with a knack for doing more with less, PWS has expanded its mission to offer more support of Marine Corps Systems Command’s (SYSCOM’s) efforts. When SYSCOM identifies a need, instead of going through the arduous process of wrangling the private sector to solve it, they can draw from the well of problem-solving talent at PWS. The section aims to “give the Program Office other avenues to get their equipment up and running” instead of waiting months or years for a defense contractor to develop a solution, said MGySgt Kennedy. In recent years, that rapid innovation capability has allowed PWS to help the Marine Corps adapt to new battlefield technologies, learning how to work with and against them before the shooting starts.
As the war in Ukraine has shown, small UASs and rapid prototyping technologies to produce them more rapidly have radically changed the face of peer/near-peer warfare. To that end, PWS is making great strides in validating those technologies for the Marine Corps. Gunnery Sergeant Gregory Brown has been working with the Marine Corps Attack Drone Team for more than a year now, designing and building small UASs to demonstrate the technology and help the Marine Corps learn more about their employment. Brown builds UASs using carbon fiber laminate, 3D-printed parts and commonly used electronics, allowing for greater flexibility in the designs and a much lower unit cost. Whereas a Neros Archer first-person view drone might cost $2,000 plus another $1,300 for the electronic safe and arming device that allows it to deploy explosives, Brown can build a somewhat less-capable but similar unit for training for approximately $400. While not authorized to carry weapons due to its use of foreign electronics, the latter allows Marines to study small UASs and learn how to integrate them into small unit tactics.
As rifle shooting matches have become faster, marksmen’s equipment must evolve to keep pace. PWS’ newest M16-based match rifle includes an adjustable stock, free-floating M-LOK rail system, 18-inch stainless barrel and recoil-reducing muzzle brake, the latter two of which are manufactured in-house. (LCpl David Brandes, USMC)
In recent years, PWS has leveraged its rapid prototyping and advanced manufacturing capabilities to help infantry Marines learn counter-UAS tactics. “The U.S. has not had to worry about what’s over us in a long time,” said MGySgt Joseph Kennedy, “and now we do.” (Photo by Sam Lichtman) GySgt Seth Utsler, an attack drone instructor with Weapons Training Battalion Quantico, shows the final stage of the PWS mission: moving beyond the laboratory to empower the operational fleet. (Cpl Joaquin Dela Torre, USMC)
3D printing allows Marines on deployment to do onsite manufacturing of replacement parts and new equipment according to immediate needs. Instead of waiting weeks or months for a part to be delivered thousands of miles, a Marine with an expeditionary fabrication manufacturing kit and a few spools of plastic filament can produce almost any physical object on demand in just a few hours, or, for small parts, less than an hour. Part of PWS’ work is to redesign essential hard-ware for 3D printing and validate those designs so a Marine in the field can print them at the press of a button, without needing to perform calibration or iterative design work. The unit has an eclectic collection of 3D printers from a variety of brands, so they can validate each design on hardware used by the Marine Corps. Whereas Chinese brands Creality and Bambu Lab are the most popular for hobbyists, hardware security and reliability concerns mean the Marine Corps relies on machines from Markforged, LulzBot and Prusa
On the modern battlefield, the integration of small UASs and additive manufacturing in expeditionary environments are no longer advantages, they are necessities. As PWS builds its knowledge base in those areas, it sends personnel out to share that knowledge with Marines in the fleet.
“Any corporal, any sergeant can do what I can do in just a few days’ training,” GySgt Brown said of his work building attack drones. “Any NCO can learn to build, automate and fly drones in just a few days.”
To that end, the true value of PWS is not in its ability to produce sniper rifles that are accurate beyond 1,000 meters, tune service weapons to win national matches or inexpensively produce replacement parts for essential equipment. Its true value is its ability to creatively solve the Marine Corps’ most pressing problems. PWS takes Marines with innate talent for figuring out new and better ways to do things, puts them in front of all the tools they need to make their ideas a reality and instills in them the technical know-how to connect the two. It’s been a long time since the unit’s job was to put accurized Remington 700s into fiberglass stocks, but PWS continues to expand its capabilities to keep the Marine Corps at the cutting edge. As new technology continues to change the way Marines fight, PWS will still be hard at work solving tomorrow’s problems today, as MGySgt Kennedy says, “just using good old NCO creativity.”
Featured Photo (Top): Using its state-of-the-art machine shop, PWS customizes all types of firearms for use by the Marine Corps’ top competitive marksmen. According to user preference, semiautomatic shotguns have their loading ports enlarged, magazine tubes extended and factory grip checkering replaced with silicon carbide (the “sand” in sandpaper), all to help shooters achieve high scores. (Cpl Sean Potter, USMC)
About the Author
Sam Lichtman is a freelance writer and editor who specializes in small arms technology and military history. He has a weekly segment on Gun Owners Radio. He is a licensed pilot who lives in Virginia.
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Office Of Naval Research: Preparing The Marine Corps For Battlefields Of The Future
On June 1, 1965, four A-4 Skyhawks, led by Marine Air Group (MAG) 12 Commanding Officer, Colonel John Noble, landed around 8 a.m. on the first fully consolidated Short Airfield for Tactical Support (SATS) built and operated by the Marine Corps. It was an amazing feat: Within 30 days of boots on the ground, and with only 90 days’ advance notice, MAG-12 and the Navy’s Mobile Construction Battalion 10 built enough of “MCAS” Chu Lai to allow those four Skyhawks, followed shortly by another flight of A-4s, to refuel, arm and, four hours later, fly the first of thousands of sorties over the next several years.
The U.S. Marines and Navy Seabees needed only 25 days to transform 100 square miles into the Chu Lai Airfield, which was designed as a Short Airfield for Tactical Support (SATS). Pilots utilized arresting hooks to snag steel cables that stretched across the aluminum runway surface so that high-speed jets could land safely. (USMC)
That spring, a brigade of Marines was sent to provide security at Da Nang Air Base. However, Lieutenant General Victor “Brute” Krulak, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force, Pacific (FMFPac), had been told by senior Air Force officers that Da Nang was at capacity and would not be available to support the Marines. A tentative approval was made on March 30 to establish another air base 57 miles south, which the officers told Krulak would take close to a year to build.
Little did they know, Krulak and members of his staff had already evaluated several scenarios. Although the area he had chosen for the base did not appear on their maps, Krulak dubbed the area “Chu Lai,” later explaining, “In order to settle the matter immediately, I had simply given [it] the Mandarin Chinese characters for my name.”
Based on that trip and assessment, Krulak, in so many words, assured the military brass that there would be no problem providing the needed air support in a timely manner. When asked by Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara how long it would take, LtGen Krulak hesitated for a moment and then said, “25 days.”
The senior Air Force officers exclaimed that it couldn’t be done. However, as was typical of Marines’ foresight and creativity, they had begun working on a new approach that would allow this to happen nearly a decade earlier. It had already culminated in the testing of a prototype runway and taxiway surface and technical support systems at two different sites. One was built in California in 1962, and the other at Marine Corps Base Quantico, Va., in 1963.
In essence, it would be an aircraft carrier on land. Support systems would be prepackaged units of equipment in boxes, crates, vans and trailers—one for each wing—stored in strategically placed warehouses and when deployed, placed along the runway and taxiway surfaces. Navy Seabees and Marine combat and air base engineers would do the site prep, lay the surfaces and erect camps for personnel support services, resulting in a functioning Marine Corps air station in weeks rather than many months. Ultimately, it was decided that MAG-12 would take the lead, as its aircraft squadrons were more suited for the type of support and would have the greatest need for the airfield.
An aerial view showing the Chu Lai Airfield in full operation, showcasing the layout of the land-based aircraft carrier. (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
The History of the SATS
The concept of a SATS dates back decades prior. Its early days were rather simple, as those aircraft could land on almost any type of reasonably level and smooth surface. All that was needed beyond the field was some type of shelter from the weather to work on the aircraft and house the staff. As aircraft got heavier and faster, a suitable airfield became much more complex. World War II, especially the Pacific theater, saw the need for a quickly constructed and maintained airfield. The introduction of pierced steel (Marston) matting provided an interim step between graded dirt with compacted gravel and a permanent surface such as concrete, which took months to pour and cure. However, this did not eliminate the need for fairly long runways requiring conventional grading, and it was not suitable for larger and heavier aircraft.
Korea was the next major conflict to raise the bar on the need for an improved tactical airfield with the introduction of jet aircraft. Their sleeker design required a longer runway to obtain a faster air speed for the necessary lift on the wings. Those speeds also required a smoother runway surface.
There were three choices for commanders needing tactical air support immediately following Korea: to fly long distances from existing airfields, build a new airfield close to the needed air support or rely on an aircraft carrier if an ocean, sea or bay was close by. However, it could take upwards of a year to build such a facility, and carriers posed limitations regarding distance from the water and availability.
In the mid to late 1950s, the idea of the SATS emerged. The task for developing such an airfield was given to the Naval Air Engineering Station at Lakehurst, N.J. Basically, only four critical elements were needed to make this land-based aircraft carrier work: the runway, the taxiway and ramp areas, the catapult and arresting gear, and advanced technical support services.
The first was a smooth runway surface of suitable length. It was determined that a little more than the length of an aircraft carrier would be acceptable. Preliminary lengths were established in 1958 at between 2,000 and 3,000 feet. The Naval Mobile Construction Battalion (NMCB) Seabees could successfully provide an adequate level surface within a couple of weeks once earth-moving machines and personnel were in place, as they had plenty of experience doing that in the island hopping of World War II. The surface material was another matter. However, that was solved rather quickly with the development of AM-2 matting, a fabricated aluminum panel, 1 1/2 inches thick, with connecters so that the ends of the panels could be rotated and interlocked. Once interlocked, they could screw into an underlying base material. The panels came in sections 2 feet wide by 12 feet long, weighing 140 pounds. They could be easily handled by a four-man crew and support the weight and impact of any aircraft in the tactical aircraft inventory.
Working against a 25-day deadline and 115-degree heat, Navy Seabees and Marines manually offload supplies from the beach at Chu Lai. (USMC)
The next critical element was the catapult and arresting gear. The arresting gear was the easier of the two to develop. All Navy and Marine aircraft are equipped with a hook that drops down below the level of the wheels as they approach landing. The arresting gear on a carrier has a couple of very strong steel cables stretched across the deck just past the normal touchdown point of the aircraft. The tail hook drags the landing surface until it engages one of the cables. On early versions of aircraft, the cables zigzag back and forth between two pulleys on each side of the landing deck, separated by large hydraulic pistons. As the hook pulls the cables down the landing surface, the cables begin to shorten. The pistons resist compression and quickly slow the aircraft to a stop.
To stop vehicles from getting trapped in sand, dirt was excavated from nearby hills, creating the solid base necessary to support the high-impact landings.(USMC)
The mobile arresting gear for the early SATS used the same early technique, except the speed-reducing hydraulic pistons were mounted in a steel frame along each side of the runway and anchored securely to the ground.
Carrier catapult systems used almost a reverse process of the arresting gear. At that time, large steam-driven pistons were located under the deck of the carrier at the departure end of the ship. The SATS catapult systems required a different approach, since there were no source of high-pressure steam and no provisions for equipment under the runway. The final design was to use a standard jet engine (GE J79) as a power source. An actual catapult system did not become available at Chu Lai until much later. In the meantime, aircraft at Chu Lai had to use jet-assisted takeoff bottles, attached to the rear sides of the aircraft.
The last of the four critical elements was the technical support required of modern aircraft and combat flight operations. Those items included, but were not limited to, air traffic control, communications, avionics repair, machine and mechanics shop, meteorological services and refueling. All these services were to be housed in self-contained or modular units.
The SATS catapult system used a standard GE J79 jet engine (above) as its power source to drive the catapult. The engine was then linked to a high-tension catapult belt (right). While pilots initially used jet-assisted takeoff (JATO) bottles during the base’s first weeks, the installation of this engine-driven catapult system completed Chu Lai’s transformation. (Photos courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
Marines dug this initial pit to tap into a freshwater source, allowing the unit to refill water buffaloes and expand into a network of pipes and water towers.(Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
Marines construct bunkers at Chu Lai, a grueling task where the sand fought back.(Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
The Building of Chu Lai
A proposal approved on April 20 called for the MAG to be organized into six teams and transported in several landing ship, tank (LSTs) to Chu Lai in three phases. The first phase covered airfield construction, the installation of the SATS components including a basic camp layout, and the installation of certain camp facilities. The second phase was based on a fully operational airfield supporting one Marine attack squadron (VMA) with further campsite development to accommodate additional personnel and supporting functions. The third phase would bring the remainder of the MAG and an additional VMA. That plan was shortly revised to combine phases two and three. Marine Air Base Squadron (MABS) 12 had the lead on establishing the SATS and was initially scheduled to have use of four LSTs—the first two to embark phase one and the other two to follow in a couple of weeks with the remainder of the squadron.
With the ink not even dry on the plans and order, the first of many problems occurred.
Shortly before the first LST, Windham County (LST-1170), arrived on April 23 to transport troops to Chu Lai, the Navy informed 1st MAW and MAG-12 commanders that it would not be able to supply the needed LSTs or landing ships, dock (LSDs) and indicated others would not be immediately forthcoming. Loading the Windham County commenced at 6 a.m. on April 24 and proceeded satisfactorily until word was received that there would be only one LST available. This required changing all the embarkation plans to provide a maximum overall capacity on only one LST, as well as a larger construction effort. This required a complete rescheduling of manpower and materiel and the reorganizing of materiel already on the docks and in the adjacent warehouses. Reloading the Windham County was completed on April 27.
MAG-12 erected tents immediately after landing on May 7, installing the infrastructure needed for those who would be flying and maintaining the base.(Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
In a display of classic Marine Corps humor, the sign dubs this bunker the “Holliday Inn.” (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
The NMCB’s transportation was entirely different, since their primary point of departure was composed of two sections from Port Hueneme and Point Mugu, Calif., following two separate exercises to Camp Kinser, Okinawa. On April 29, the NMCB, along with the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Brigade, left for Vietnam aboard two LSTs, an LSD and an attack cargo ship as part of the III Marine Expeditionary Force. The Marine brigade, acting as the advance element of a larger force, had the initial goal of hitting the beach, securing the area and acting as security for the construction and the air wing units soon to follow. They landed at 8 a.m. on May 7.
The first echelon of MAG-12 was comprised largely of personnel from MABS-12. They arrived at Chu Lai on May 7 and immediately began to unload to expedite a return to Iwakuni, Japan, to bring the remaining personnel and materiel. The personnel began the task to install and operate the facilities, such as shelters, food, water, sanitation, roads, transportation, communications, internal security and medical for the well-being of those who would be flying and maintaining the aircraft on the future base.
After setting up a basic camp, NMCB-10 began construction on May 9. While the location of the SATS facility was good for tactical purposes, heat and humidity were an issue. Official observations often recorded daytime temperatures in the upper 90s to low 100s with humidity values around 50%. Later runway temperatures were often at or above 115 degrees. Even more oppressive was late at night, when readings were in the low 90s with dew points in the 90s, resulting in humidity values at or near 100%. The weather conditions were manageable for crews by drinking plenty of water, taking salt tablets and pacing work sessions; however, the humidity still impacted productivity, equipment failures and aircraft performance.
It was the sand, however, that would be a major obstacle to meeting their operational deadline. The area was roughly 100 square miles of scrub pine trees and sand that was so dry and fine, it could be described as powdery. Once a wheeled vehicle moved away from the wet sand and high tide, it would become stuck, and its wheels would just spin like in deep snow. On May 9, Lieutenant Colonel Charles Goode, the 1st MAW engineering officer, recorded, “My general impression of the entire day was that there was much wheel spinning, resulting in disorganization and little work accomplished, all compounded by the fact that three of the C.B. TD-24 tractors went out of commission.” The problems continued into the following day as more equipment fell victim to the heat and sand. With typical Navy and Marine creativity and the reprioritization of equipment, things began to fall back into place and back on schedule.
To bypass the sand on the beach, this causeway constructed at Chu Lai allowed heavy machinery and vital supplies to be offloaded directly from ships and moved inland. (Photo courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
Over time, conditions got markedly better, as dirt was hauled in from the nearby hills to create a more extensive network of surfaced roads.
However, the sand also worked its way into bearings, clutches and other moving parts, causing premature failure. It blew into communications printers and electronic system switches and tuners. Air filters on motors required constant replacement. Because the sand was so dry and fine, it provided no suitable grounding conductive capability. This created a shock hazard to people and damage to improperly grounded equipment. The Marines needed more generators spread out at more distant locations and a three-wire feed for the hot, neutral and “ground” wires coming from and going back to the generators. They received less than half of the wires they needed, severely limiting the availability of electrical service.
Sandbagged safety and security bunkers had to be dug by hand, but for every two shovels full that were thrown out of a hole, one shovel full trickled back in. Bunkers often had to be three to four times in diameter bigger than needed before the first row of sandbags could be put in place. The sand was equally problematic for personnel, as it got into everything from toothpaste and shaving cream to food and bedding.
According to unit diaries and other documents, only two days into excavation, things were going painfully slow. It became clear the sand was going to wreak havoc on this project. With a deadline of May 29, the construction battalion began working 24/7 moving dirt from a nearby hill, dumping and grading 64,500 cubic yards of the laterite. However, this approach would ultimately need ongoing and continued maintenance after any heavy rain, as the sand below would soften and collapse. Simultaneous with air-field construction, the servicemembers continued working on the basic camp facilities, security and communications.
Marines at Chu Lai dubbed this tent the “Chu Lai Hilton.” (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
One of the first orders of camp business was to find a local supply of fresh water. A pit was dug and after letting the par-ticulate settle to the bottom, the water was tested. It was free of
A servicemember walks down a dirt path leading through tent city, Chu Lai, 1965. (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
salt, requiring only chlorination. Marines began piping the main camp facilities and refilling water buffaloes, eventually digging an additional well and building a water tower.
Another immediate need was perimeter security. The Viet Cong used various methods to try to infiltrate the camp. And there were snipers, especially at night when any light was detectable in range. One of the first orders regarding security was that anyone’s authorized weapon was to never be more than an arm’s length away.
During the first weeks, sniper rounds started coming in from small fishing boats in the bay, beyond the effective range of the M14. A call was placed to the regimental landing team headquarters, and within minutes, an Ontos was coming down the beach in a cloud of dust. When an incoming round ricocheted off the anti-tank vehicle, the unit commander quickly spun around, lined up, fired a couple of tracer rounds and eliminated the threat.
There were other hazards as well. Local villagers and their children often approached the perimeter offering to sell items, especially cold drinks, to nearby personnel. Quick action by senior staff stopped such a practice.
The only known casualties were senior enlisted staff members. When they failed to make roll call the next morning, search parties scoured the area for days, never finding any evidence of their whereabouts. It was assumed they may have strayed too close to the perimeter during the night and were taken captive.
By May 16, enough runway surface had been prepared so that crews could begin laying the AM-2 matting. Six days later, 2,300 feet of matting had been laid.
As the first AM-2 mats were installed, the second echelon of personnel and materiel prepared to embark from Iwakuni with the remaining members of the MAG, MABS and flying squadrons, arriving on May 23. The unit diary noted that the midday temperature that day reached 117 degrees. VMA-311 and VMA-225 aircraft departed for NAS Cubi Point in the Philippines on May 26 to await the completion of the SATS runway and taxiway complex, scheduled for May 29.
The arriving ships were greeted by materiel that still sat on the beaches from the first deliveries, as well as an unstable causeway. Tracked vehicles were still needed to pull wheeled units off the beach. After all the ships were unloaded and departed, only the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2) remained. It had supported the initial brigade landing three weeks earlier using its UH-34D helicopters and was still on station continuing needed support. Work on the runways, taxiways and camp continued. By the end of the day on May 29, the runway was 3,545 feet with an accompanying taxiway and ramp area. All systems necessary to support combat flight operations were in place, and VMA-311 and 225 were ready at NAS Cubi Point. The only nemesis remaining was the weather. The remnants of a tropical storm made conditions unsafe for the Skyhawks to make the nearly 900-mile trip to the airstrip. Success would have to wait another day.
An Operational Air Station
On June 1, 1965, Col John Noble landed the first aircraft at Chu Lai: the A-4 Skyhawk. (Phom R.L. Dukes, USN)
On June 1, 1965, MCAS Chu Lai was officially declared operational. At 8 a.m., the first aircraft, the A-4 Skyhawk CE#6 piloted by Col Noble, touched down. The first VMA-311 aircraft touched down 30 minutes later. No time was wasted in arming and refueling four aircraft that would depart at 1:15 p.m. in support of an operation only six miles from the airfield. As work on the air station continued, air support missions went into full swing. At the end of June, MAG-12 aircraft had flown 303 missions and 969 sorties, delivering 2,338 bombs, 4,454 rockets and 58,471 20 mm rounds in support of infantry operations and enemy supply locations.
The month of June also saw a significant increase in camp facilities and improvements in creature comforts. The most noteworthy event was the completion of 8,000 feet of runway and adjacent taxiway on June 25. This virtually eliminated the need for jet-assisted takeoffs and landing arrests.
A mess hall, which had opened at the end of May, served two meals a day and obtained refrigerators, meaning more fresh meals were making their way to the troops. A post exchange was able to open on June 28, providing cold beverages. Recreation was most often achieved with a dip in the bay, which was as good as any expensive resort, and a primitive outdoor theater began showing films two days a week. The arrival of VMA-214 placed a greater demand on tent housing and sanitation, such as fixing hot showers and heads.
Electronic equipment continued to have periodic outages as the result of heat and dust. Air traffic control and radars were of most concern. High-vol-ume communications between major commands were still inadequate because of atmospheric issues caused by the heat.
Noble, the commanding officer of MAG-12, celebrates with a cake cutting (below) at the newly constructed airfield. The journey that began with a grueling fight against sand and heat culminated in a hard-won triumph. This marked the end of the frantic 25-day construction marathon and the beginning of full-scale flight operations for the MAG-12 Skyhawks. (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
As Chu Lai transitioned into an operational air station, the focus now shifted to sustaining and improving the lives of the personnel living there. (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
Although the brigade was getting bigger, the Marines were also becoming engaged in more offensive actions against the enemy. The MAG ordered the MABS to organize the equivalent of two rifle companies to take over base security, as there was a reinforced regiment of the NVA committed to throwing the Marines back into the sea. This would ultimately evolve into a mission on Aug. 18 called Operation Starlite, in an area only 12 miles south of the SATS. It would become the Corps’ first major operation in Vietnam, catching the NVA by surprise. The operation confirmed that the integration of close air support for ground operations was a sound and viable concept for the future of Marine operations.
The squadrons flew a combined total of 1,610 sorties in July and 1,656 in August, with aircraft availability at an amazing 76-79% under very harsh conditions. Ordnance delivery averaged approximately 1,000 tons per month. The first hangar was started on August 6, by which time other maintenance facilities had already been built, allowing for night repairs. Mess halls were in full operation, off-duty clubs were built, the tent city was taking on more features such as electricity, plywood floors, nearby potable water and laundry. The personnel were supplied with new utility uniforms, as the old-style cotton was literally rotting away.
After weeks of labor to complete the airfield, Marines and Seabees finally found moments for recreation on the surf, located right on the edge of the base. (Courtesy of Lawrence Krudwig)
The Marines had landed and were there to stay. Several months later, construction crews began the task of installing a new concrete runway to replace the matted one, a few hundred yards to the west. Lieutenant Colonel Robert W. Baker, Commanding Officer of VMA-225, said of the original airstrip, “This aluminum field was as flat and even as a pool table, the smoothest, bump-free surface I ever flew from.”
Although some weeks later, a monsoon caused cavitation and created a slippery roller coaster effect, he went on to say, “But we flew!” The SATS concept had worked.
About the Author
Lawrence Krudwig is a Vietnam veteran who served as a corporal in the aerology sections of MAG-36 and MAG-12, deploying in 1965 to help establish the first SATS airfield at Chu Lai. Following his military service, he dedicated 37 years to the National Weather Service, earning numerous Department of Commerce medals for his work on national emergency alert systems.
He now lives in Missouri, where he remains active with the Marine Corps League and Missouri State University’s physics advisory board.
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Putting History Back Together: Telling The Story Of A Marine Helicopter Squadron Through A Rebuilt Huey
Below: 2ndLt Maximillian Steinbach, a platoon commander with Echo Co, 2nd Bn, 4th Marines, 1stMarDiv, prepares to start a night hike as part of Mountain Training Exercise 4-25 at Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center Bridgeport, Calif., on Aug. 8, 2025. MTX is a month-long exercise designed to prepare units to survive and operate effectively in austere, mountainous terrain, further developing mental, spiritual and physical endurance and resiliency.(Sgt Migel A. Reynosa, USMC)
1stLt John Fischbach, a platoon commander with Blackfoot Co, 1st Bn, 5th Marines, 1stMarDiv, talks on a radio during a simulated raid as part of Exercise Steel Knight 25 at MCB Camp Pendleton, Calif., on Dec. 12, 2025. Steel Knight is an annual exercise that strengthens the Navy-Marine Corps team’s ability to respond forward, integrate across domains and sustain Marine Air-Ground Task Force readiness.(Sgt Kyle Chan, USMC)
LCpl Bradon Kennedy, front, a rifleman with Kilo Co, BLT 3/5, 11th MEU, fires an M3E1 Carl Gustaf MAAWS during a live-fire range as part of MEU Exercise 26.1 at MCB Camp Pendleton, Calif., on Oct. 28, 2025. During MEUEX, BLT 3/5 conducted company-level training, live-fire ranges and battle drills while employing various weapon systems to maintain mission readiness.(Sgt Trent A. Henry, USMC)
Sgt Gerald Nolan, left, and Sgt Tristan Diaz, both light armored vehicle crewmen with 2nd Light Armored Reconnaissance Battalion, 2ndMarDiv, load ammunition during a missile range at MCB Camp Lejeune, N.C., on Dec. 11, 2025.(LCpl Brian Bolin Jr., USMC)
A light armored vehicle 25 with Bravo Co, Ground Combat Element, 22nd MEU, fires at targets during a live-fire exercise aboard the Wasp-class amphibious assault ship USS Kearsarge (LHD-3) in the Atlantic Ocean, on June 28, 2022. (Sgt Armando Elizalde, USMC)
Marines with Maritime Reconnaissance Platoon, 1st Reconnaissance Bn, 1stMarDiv, drive a rigid inflatable boat during Exercise Steel Knight 25 at San Clemente Island, Calif., on Dec. 9, 2025. (LCpl Alan Gomez, USMC)
A Marine with Force Reconnaissance Platoon, Maritime Raid Force, 31st MEU, fires an M27 infantry automatic rifle during a live-fire deck shoot aboard the forward-deployed amphibious assault carrier USS Tripoli (LHA-7) on Dec. 13, 2025, while conducting routine operations in the U.S. 7th Fleet area of operations.
LCpl Dylan Butler, left, a machine-gunner, and LCpl Garrison Leavitt, a team leader, both with 3rd Bn, 7th Marines, 1stMarDiv, fire an M2 .50-caliber heavy machine gun during a fire support coordination exercise at Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center Twentynine Palms, Calif., on Dec. 12, 2025. The exercise was conducted to evaluate integration at the platoon and fire support coordination center level with live-fire execution. (Sgt Ezekieljay Correa, USMC)
LCpl Aaron Duran, left, and LCpl Juan Hilario, machine-gunners with 1st Bn, 6th Marines, fire on simulated adversary forces with an M240B machine gun while conducting platoon attacks in an urban environment during Korea Viper 26.1 in South Korea, on Dec. 17, 2025. (Cpl John Simpson, USMC)
Machine gunners with Lima Co, BLT 3/6, 22nd MEU(SOC), conduct an M240B machine gun live-fire range on Camp Santiago, Puerto Rico, on Dec. 8, 2025.(Sgt Maurion Moore, USMC)
Cpl Conner Theodore, a mortarman with 2nd Bn, 4th Marines, 1stMarDiv, carries an M224 60 mm lightweight mortar (above left) during a service-level training exercise at Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center Twentynine Palms, Calif. Theodore took notes (above right) during the Dec. 9 training, which prepared Marines for future conflicts by conducting offensive and defensive live-fire and maneuver training scenarios within an austere training environment.(LCpl Zackery Dear, USMC)
Sgt Zachary Savage, an antitank missile gunner with 2nd Bn, 23rd Marines, forward deployed with 4th Marine Regiment, 3dMarDiv, as part of the Unit Deployment Program, fires a Javelin shoulder-fired antitank missile during the Korean Marine Exercise Program 25.2 in Pocheon, South Korea, on July 29, 2025. (LCpl Van Hoang, USMC)
SSgt Jacob Bustamante, an infantry unit leader with 2nd Bn, 4th Marines, 1stMarDiv, coordinates suppressive fire during a night live-fire range during Service Level Training Exercise 0-25 at Marine Corps Air-Ground Combat Center, Twentynine Palms, Calif., on Dec. 17, 2025.(Cpl Christian Cutter, USMC)
Featured Photo (Top):LCpl Enrique Hernandez, a grenadier assigned to “Alpha” Co, BLT 1/5, 15th MEU, helps clear a building during a combined urban attack as part of Archipelagic Coastal Defense Continuum at San Vicente, Palawan, Philippines, May 22, 2024. Photo by LCpl Peyton Kahle, USMC.
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Executive Editor’s note: We bring you this story in recognition of National K9 Veterans Day on March 13. It marks the date in 1942 when the U.S. Army began training dogs specifically for military use.
A light, intermittent rain fell on Guam and the Marines of 1st Battalion, 9th Marine Regiment on the night of July 25, 1944. The inky darkness was broken by occasional flares rocketing up from offshore destroyers and 60 mm mortars closer to the front lines. Along the entire line, Marines experienced probing attacks from the Japanese. The Marines of 1/9 could hear Japan’s night assault against their division’s reconnaissance company. Ahead of them lay the heights of Mount Tenjo, where the Japanese consumed sake, working themselves into a frenzy for an attack.
Embedded in the lines of Company C, an unusual trio of Marines huddled in a foxhole. Corporal Harry Brown and Private First Class Dale Fetzer slept fitfully. Perched on the lip was PFC Skipper, a black Labrador Retriever, ears perked up and listening for sounds undetectable to human senses. A canvas leash ran from Skipper’s collar to the hand of PFC Fetzer, his handler.
Around 4 a.m., Skipper abruptly shot up in a low crouch, staring toward Mount Tenjo. Every follicle of hair stood on end as Skipper bared his teeth and gave a nearly imperceptible growl. PFC Fetzer snapped awake, recognizing at once Skipper’s alert posture. Shaking his partner, Fetzer whispered, “Get the lieutenant. They are coming,” before turning his attention back to the dog. After quietly praising Skipper for his alert, he ordered him to the bottom of the hole, to lie down and stay.Around 4 a.m., Skipper abruptly shot up in a low crouch, staring toward Mount Tenjo. Every follicle of hair stood on end as Skipper bared his teeth and gave a nearly imperceptible growl. PFC Fetzer snapped awake, recognizing at once Skipper’s alert posture. Shaking his partner, Fetzer whispered, “Get the lieutenant. They are coming,” before turning his attention back to the dog. After quietly praising Skipper for his alert, he ordered him to the bottom of the hole, to lie down and stay.
Within 10 minutes, Japanese soldiers poured down from Mt. Tenjo, crashing into the lines of 1/9, attempting to exploit a gap between their regiment and 3rd Battalion, 21st Marine Regiment (3/21). Skipper lay nervously in the hole as the world erupted in gunfire. PFC Fetzer, atop the hole, fired away with his M1 carbine at the hordes of Japanese. A Japanese hand grenade shot into their foxhole, shredding Fetzer’s legs and sending him down into the hole, beside his lifeless comrade, Skipper. Fetzer later described what happened next as a blacked-out maniacal rage over the death of his dog. He leapt from his hole and, by his own account, killed every Japanese soldier he could find.
As sunlight swept away the horrors of that night, it revealed dead Japanese all around. Lieutenant William Putney, 3rd Marine War Dog Platoon (MWDP) Commander, found Fetzer sitting on the edge of his foxhole cradling Skipper’s body, tears streaming down his face. Lt Putney drove Fetzer and Skipper to graves registration, near Blue Beach, where they had landed five As sunlight swept away the horrors of that night, it revealed dead Japanese all around. Lieutenant William Putney, 3rd Marine War Dog Platoon (MWDP) Commander, found Fetzer sitting on the edge of his foxhole cradling Skipper’s body, tears streaming down his face. Lt Putney drove Fetzer and Skipper to graves registration, near Blue Beach, where they had landed five days earlier. The MWDP commanders had already established a war dog cemetery, beside 3rd Division’s. Skipper’s name was stenciled to a white cross, and he was laid to rest beside the Marines he had protected. Skipper was credited with saving the company with his early warning against the Japanese onslaught. He was not the first nor the last Marine war dog buried there.
Members of the 3rd Marine War Dog Platoon (MWDP) pause on Guadalcanal en route to the fighting on Guam. (USMC)
Cpl William Scott and his war dog, Prince, assigned to 1stMarDiv, take a moment on the beach during the Peleliu campaign. Dogs like Prince were essential for detecting enemy movement in the dense foliage of the Pacific islands. (USMC)
PFC Dale Fetzer and Skipper on Guadalcanal, staging for the invasion of Guam. Skipper would give his life alerting Marines to a midnight ambush, an act of valor that saved his entire company.(USMC)
The Inception of the War Dog
Using dogs in combat goes back centuries; however, the practice wasn’t adopted by the United States military prior to 1941. Working dogs were a foreign concept to the American people, particularly the military. When the events of Dec. 7, 1941, thrust America into World War II, the nation mobilized to assist the war effort. A civilian agency, Dogs for Defense, was created shortly after the outbreak of the war to recruit dogs for service with the military.
Initially, the Marine Corps turned down the idea of war dogs, believing only units directly involved in destroying the enemy or saving Marines should be created. But as weary Marines fought desperately for their lives on Guadalcanal, they came to understand the ferocity of the Japanese and the need for tactical advantages. The idea was reconsidered, perhaps influenced by the Marine Corps prewar publication “Small Wars Manual,” which stated that dogs “may sometimes be profitably employed … to detect the presence of hostile forces.” In November 1942, Commandant Thomas Holcomb ordered the establishment of a war dog training school at New River, N.C.
The first to arrive were 20 Marines and 38 dogs from Army training centers. More dogs came from the civilian population through donations made to the Marine Corps. The first donor was the Doberman Pinscher Club of America, which initially contributed 20 Dobermans. Recurring donations ensured Dobermans were included among all war dog platoons throughout the war. Families caught up in patriotic fervor donated their pets as well, leading to a mix of breeds in Marine kennels. There were few formal requirements for Marine dogs during the war.
Dogs were disqualified if they were too skittish, barked excessively or had a fear-based bite reflex. Dogs who passed the physical and temperament tests were paired with handlers, who came as infantrymen from the Fleet Marine Force or infantry training school. Once matched, they would then begin a 14-week course. Teams would be separated into one of three assigned jobs. Messenger dogs were trained to run back and forth between two handlers at the command “Report!” These dogs covered impressive distances and could track down a handler who was far out of eyesight.
Scout dogs were trained to lead patrols, never bark and sense for movement in their surrounding environment. Similarly, sentry dogs were trained to alert their handlers and guard command posts, stationary emplacements and the front line at night. Contrary to belief, dogs were never trained to “sniff” for the enemy. At the time hand-lers did not understand how to train a dog to alert based on scent. Instead, each dog was trained to detect movement, with their own unique way of alerting, which a handler had to learn and anticipate. A dog might crouch low and give a growl or point their nose at a movement. During training it was discovered that dogs can alert on enemy movement up to 500 yards away.
A wounded dog is carried to the veterinarian aid station during the invasion of Guam. Marine 1stLt William Putney served as both the 3rd MWDP commander and the veterinarian, thanks to his prewar occupation. (USMC)
Guy Wachtstetter and Tubby, assigned to the 2nd MWDP, landed on Guam attached to the 3rd Marine Division Amphibious Reconnaissance Company. Tubby did not survive the fighting on Guam. (Courtesy of National Archives)
To the Pacific
Marines eyed up these “dog Marines” for the first time in 1942 and were skeptical of their abilities. The infantrymen imagined dogs barking at night, giving away their position or eating all their rations. No one wanted to give the 1st Marine War Dog Platoon a chance until the 2nd Raider Regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Alan Shapley, witnessed their capabilities.
On Nov. 1, 1943, D-day on Bougainville in the Northern Solomons, handlers climbed down cargo nets into Higgins boats while their dogs were lowered in improvised harnesses. They landed an hour after the first wave, splashing onto the thin strip of sand before plunging into the dark, impenetrable jungle. Two dog teams were attached to Company M, 3rd Raiders: Doberman scout dog Andy, with handlers PFCs Robert Lansley and John Mahoney, and German shepherd messenger dog Caesar, with handler PFC Rufus Mayo. Their task was to patrol down the Piva Trail and take up a blocking position deep in the enemy jungle. Andy led the way, giving multiple alerts on enemy positions, which the trailing Raiders deftly handled. Not a Marine was lost.
To get war dogs from transport ships to Higgins boats, Marines turned their utility jackets inside out, put the dogs’ legs through the sleeves, and lowered them down. (USMC) Marine dog teams walk down a road during the Peleliu operation. Despite the intense combat and high temperatures, war dogs proved highly effective. (USMC)
Despite the initial success, doom soon crept on the Raiders. Their radios became saturated with moisture as they fought off Japanese incursions on the trail. Caesar reestablished the communications link by running 1,500 yards nine times under fire, carrying handwritten messages. At sunrise on the morning of Nov. 3, PFC Mayo lay in a damp foxhole when Caesar suddenly leaped over the edge, teeth bared for a fight. Before Mayo could comprehend the situation, he recalled Caesar, who turned to run back. Just then, three shots rang out from the jungle. Caesar yelped and fled down the trail. Mayo took off after him and found Caesar back at the company area with another handler, three bullets in his body.
Nearby Raiders, showing their newfound love for war dogs, improvised a litter and carried Caesar to the aid station for lifesaving surgery. He survived, returning only weeks later to duty and his adoring Raiders.
A war dog signals the presence of the enemy on Iwo Jima. Because Japanese forces used elaborate underground defenses, the Marine Corps relied on war dog teams to identify occupied caves that were often invisible to the human eye. (USMC)
PFC H.J. Finley and Jack were one of the three dog teams on Bougainville, belonging to the 1st MWDP, 2nd Raider Regiment. (PFC P. Scheer, USMC)
“An Unqualified Success”
Word spread across the Marine Corps, and the United States, about these four-legged heroes. Caesar’s likeness adorned postage stamps, and newspaper articles described the dog’s ordeal. LtCol Shapley praised the dogs’ performances, calling them “an unqualified success,” which encouraged additional war dog platoons. By the end of the war, seven war dog platoons were constituted. Each Marine division was assigned at least one war dog platoon. The dogs accompanied the infantry into every campaign from 1944 to the end of the war.
Although the infantrymen were dismissive at first, once the Marines dug in for the night, they watched and hoped for the war dogs and handlers to come to their lines for night security. These dogs, experts at catching infiltrators, remained alert all night. Riflemen discovered that if a dog and handler were in the hole with them, they could sleep, perhaps the only deep sleep they could get during a campaign. As the dog teams walked to the front lines in the evenings, they were welcomed with pre-dug foxholes and infantrymen inviting them in.
The war dogs led the riflemen into the jungles of Guam, flushed out Japanese stragglers on Saipan, endured the murderous shelling on Iwo Jima and shared the miserable conditions on Okinawa. During the Peleliu campaign, the war dogs shared astoundingly harsh conditions. Temperatures soared well into the triple digits, and razor-sharp coral, which covered the island, cut up the dogs’ paws. Handlers carried their dogs over the terrain to spare them the agony of walking.
Dog teams from the 6th and 7th MWDP landed on D-day on Iwo Jima. Despite the terrific bombardment, the teams were able to move inland. (USMC)
PFC Thomas Price and his Doberman Chips, of the 5th MWDP, were attached to 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, on Peleliu. Price wrote home to his parents in October describing the torment of fighting there. Chips saved his life during the first night by alerting him to an infiltrator. He recounted his absolute terror as he waited, Ka-Bar in hand, for the enemy to come.
The next night, they endured a mortar barrage. “I got in a foxhole with Chips and started praying,” wrote Price. He continued, “Then Chips gave a yelp. I reached down and felt blood running down his leg.” Despite the wound, Chips alerted around 4 a.m. The entire company opened fire on this early morning attack, dispersing the Japanese before they could surprise the Marines. Both Chips and Price were wounded by shrapnel, and Chips was evacuated. He was one among dozens of war dog casualties during the brutal fight on Peleliu.
In another letter, Price wrote that “it would be like losing my right arm, if anything happened to Chips.” All handlers shared his sentiment, forming incredible bonds with their dogs. They endured all manners of hardship and terror, looking out for one another while enduring the most savage of conditions.
Even the dogs demonstrated these bonds of companionship. On Guam, the night of July 22, 1944, Edward Topka, 3rd MWDP, fought furiously for his life after his Doberman, Lucky, alerted. Topka was nearly overrun by Japanese but held them off at the cost of a mortal wound. Corpsmen found him at sunrise, surrounded by a dozen slain enemies. They did everything possible to save him. Lucky lay faithfully by Topka’s side. As Topka’s final breath left him, Lucky’s demeanor shifted from mournful to ferociously protective. He snapped at the corpsmen, driving them off Topka’s body. Teeth and claws bared, he stood watch over his fallen master, ready to tear apart anyone who came too close. It took several fellow handlers to subdue the devastated Lucky to recover Topka’s body. According to Lt Putney, Lucky was never the same, and he was sent back to the States.
Pvt Francis Hall and his Doberman on Iwo Jima, March 1945. The pair were attached to Headquarters and Service Co, 25th Marines, for the duration of the battle. (USMC)
Tom Price and Chips both survived the brutal Peleliu invasion despite being wounded by shrapnel. Following the war, Price refused to part with his partner. He adopted Chips and brought him home to Maryland, where the pair continued their lives together. (Tom Price Collection)
Always Faithful
As the fighting on Okinawa died down in July 1945, the war dog platoons with the 1st and 6th Marine Divisions continued their patrols to uncover any bypassed Japanese. Marines in the Pacific were preparing to invade Japan when the news of the Japanese surrender reached them. Instead of invading, the men and dogs transitioned into an occupation force. Slowly, they were all sent back to Camp Lejeune, N.C., as the need for dogs decreased.
Originally, there was no plan for how to handle these aggressive, combat-hardened dogs. The idea of euthanasia was floated but instantly shut down by the platoon commanders who had endured combat alongside them. They developed a de-training program in the hopes of rehabilitating them.
The dogs were trained to re-enter civilian life, breaking their military routine. Handlers were changed frequently, dogs were allowed to relax and Marines from the Camp Lejeune Women’s Reserve units took the dogs for walks. William Putney, now the war dog veterinarian at New River, tabulated that only four dogs, out of 559, were euthanized for extreme, trauma-related aggressiveness. This was an astounding accomplishment, contradictory to outside predictions.
When the war dog training facility shuttered in 1946, dogs were returned to their civilian owners. Many of the dogs were able to accompany their handlers, as Marines received permission from the original owners to keep their wartime companions. Tom Price and Chips went back to Maryland to continue their lives together. Few, like Corporal Marvin Corff and Rocky, from the 2nd MWDP, had to tearfully part ways. Corff’s last view of Rocky, his faithful companion through the war, was sitting on his owner’s front steps in Chicago, Ill.
The dogs and men of the Marine war dog platoons had followed the same motto as all Marines since the Corps’ inception: Semper Fidelis. These men and dogs endured the worst campaigns in the Pacific, never wavering in their dedication to mission and to each other. Their profound bond held them together, as it does all combat veterans. Their legacy of service lives on in memorials to these men and four-legged Marines across the country.
Nowhere is it more evident, however, than on a tiny corner of Guam, near a beach where decades earlier, Marines splashed ashore with their war dogs under fire. A statue of a Doberman overlooks the final resting place of the dogs who died during that campaign, including Skipper, the savior of Company C, 1/9. His ears are perked up, head erect, and he is vigilantly on watch, always faithful.
Derek the Doberman
By: Jennifer Castro
From the islands of the Pacific to Iraq and Afghanistan, Marine Corps dogs have served with valor and heroism. During World War II, war dogs served as scout or messenger dogs; more recently, dogs have helped locate IEDs, one of the major threats against the lives of Marines fighting terrorism.
Corporal Derek Dunn, serial number 260, was a male Doberman pinscher that served 20 months as a messenger dog with the 1st War Dog Platoon in the South Pacific. He was wounded twice—once by shrapnel and once by a bullet—and was awarded a Purple Heart. Derek belonged to Army Staff Sergeant Frank L. Dunn and his wife. Dunn enrolled him in the Marine Corps Devil Dogs program in January 1944 rather than sell or give him away when he went overseas.
(USMC)
Derek was reunited with his owners after the war and spent time with former World War I Marine walking champion George Baker, who took Derek to reunions, parades and hospitals to visit wounded service veterans, giving a new purpose to the retired canine. This custom summer khaki uniform coat was made for him.
(National Museum of the Marine Corps)
(USMC)
Featured Photo (Top): Pvt John L. Drugan and Pal, 4th MWDP, on Okinawa, May 1945. Pal saved a platoon of Marines from an ambush by alerting his handler of a hidden Japanese machine-gun nest.
About the Author
Chris Kuhns, a former Marine infantryman, separated from the Marine Corps to pursue his passion for military history, specializing in the history of the Marine Corps. He serves as the director of the Pennsylvania Military Museum in Boalsburg, Pa., and as the deputy director of the U.S. Marine Corps Historical Company, a nonprofit organization. He calls Gettysburg, Pa. home.
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