The raising of the
flag on Suribachi means a Marine Corps for the next 500 years." James Forrestal,
Secretary of the Navy.Sea Stories
...this is Jess, the Mess, from the piccolo section... The first story is on me-you're getting old when you have to use the spell checker to make sure you spelled piccolo right! Let's see...one of the best one I recall is when the Parris Island band played the Gasperilla Festival parade in Clearwater, Florida some time in the '60's...we were putting our instruments together-instruments and cases were scattered on some guys' grass and side walk. A sousaphone case was laying open in the middle of the side walk...no one noticed the guy walking down the side walk with a white cane-blind as a bat. Anyway, you might know he stepped exactly on top of the case hinge, which was several inches above the side walk when the case is fully opened. Well, he stepped on the hinge, it went down to the sidewalk, bringing the sides of the case up to slam against the blind guys' shoulders. Well, the poor guy didn't know what kind of animal had hold of him-he just knew he was being swallowed up by some monster! Since we were all focused on getting saddled up no one noticed what was happening until we heard some medieval screaming-we looked up and the poor guy was slashing his white cane wildly right/left/up/down-trying to kill what ever was attacking him. A bandsman rushed over and grabbed the guy to extract him from Jaws-and received a couple of cane lashings himself. (Whoever said band duty wasn't dangerous?!) After poor Jonah was rescued from the whale it took an AWFUL LOT of explaining and apologizing to bring that man's blood pressure-and temper-down. An unfortunate event for some one not as blessed as we are...but it was only another knee slappin' sea story in a Marine bandsman's locker full of 'em. Next... 6 bits...Jesse Sunderland.
We did a Marine Corps Toys for Tots in LA that had celebrities like Angie Dickinson and Bob Hope. Angie walked in and said Hello fellas" Gary Sparks, a trumpet player, said to her "Hi Angie, let me dust off your seat" as he tilted his head back and started to dust off his mouth.....oh boy...She seemed a bit annoyed....Sgt Don
Three of us, in Oki, were in Sakahotchie alley near BC street and a group approached us. One of the group pushed me in the chest and I hit the wall. I busted a bottle of Akadama (Awkadoo) wine for a "tool" of mass destruction. The one said to me "You can't get us all". I said "That's right....who the f--- is first?" I guess no one wanted to honor that privilege and they disappeared. Such wimps to be sure. Sgt Don
The Saga of
Fred Netherton’s
Ford Maverick.
I can’t remember the exact date (sometime in 1970) but those who were involved will remember this little story for as long as they live.
“Tex” the trumpet player and his girlfriend (I think her nickname was “Charlie”) had just moved into a new apartment. Well a house warming was in order and “Charlie” had this killer punch she whipped up. Needless to say, we all may have over-indulged just a bit.
It just so happened, that Fred Netherton had the duty that evening and could not go. Now we all know that Fred would never let a brother down so he loaned his car to a few of us so we could attend the above mentioned affair.
Long story short, Mike Dollard started the car and we headed back to El Toro. Mike was totally wasted so he sort of pressed on the gas pedal and Bob Izzett sort of steered and I rode shotgun, or something along those lines. Being as “Otto” Schmidt was already passed out, we just stuffed him in the back seat of Fred’s car.
Wouldn’t you know it, when we got to the front gate, we had one of those MP’s that really got off on his job and making others irritated. He demanded to see our “ID’s”. I showed him mine and Bob was able to show his but Mike Dollard was holding up his empty fingers telling the MP he just needed to look closer and he would see his “ID”. Bob Izzett finally found Mike Dollards ID and the MP started to let us pass when he noticed “Otto” in the back seat. We begged the MP not to wake up “Otto” but he would not be turned from his duty to protect 4 highly intoxicated Marines from their own stupidity.
We really tried to find “Otto’s” ID without waking him but didn’t succeed. After seeing “Otto’s” ID the MP allowed us thru the gate and we were almost home free. Just as we were turning into the parking lot of the Band Barracks, “Otto” started relieving his stomach of its contents all over the back seat of Fred’s new car. We locked up the car and all went inside to pass out.
About noon the next day, Fred was looking for his car keys. I don’t remember who had them but I knew when he got his hands on them, several of us were in big trouble. It had been several hours since “Otto’s” addition to the back seat and the car was parked in the sun. It wasn’t long before we could hear Fred cussing in the parking lot all the way inside.
Well several of us started cleaning but the truth of the matter is we never could get that smell out of his car. Years later talking with Mr. Netherton, he informed me that the smell never went away.
To allow 4 of his brothers to do this to him and still remain your friend shows just how close we really were.
Shannon Bookey
One story barely fit to print was the same PI Band in New Orleans for the
1970 (going into '71) Sugar Bowl Parade. I believe Mr. Bauchert is the only
one on here who can verify the first part but one of the first nites in
N.O. at least Bauchert and Sgt. Gary Shockey went to the newly remodeled
NCO or enlisted club on the Navy base we stayed at there and, in the course
of events at least Mr. Shockey ended up playing Bingo!
As the story goes (and it gets better after a few MORE beers...) Shockey
is within like 2 numbers of a pretty good pay out, whatever amount it was
I have no idea but in 1970, married and on an E-5's wages it "woulda
helped"!!! So he supposedly leans over to Bauchert and says "If
I get these last two numbers...I'm gonna jump up on this table, drop my
drawers and start (well, I'm sure you can put your imagination to work here)...
and yell BINGO...at the top of my lungs"!!!
Well, he didn't win!
A nght or two later about 15 or 20 of us go into town for a few beers and
a movie. The movie was called "The Stewardesses" and was in 3-D...complete
with 3-D glasses upon entrance to the theater. We all pretty much sat together
in the middle of the movie house and the movie starts out with a gal knocking
on an apartment door. No answer but the door is unlocked so she goes in!
Walks down a hall (by now you can hear the sounds of heavy breathing and
assorted others sometimes associated with sexual conduct...and NOT the unbecoming
kind, either).
She rounds a corner and with the aid of the 3-D glasses her lady friend's
legs come right through the screen at ya and you see the white uniform back
and beanie of a Squid bobbin'up and down and in full "operational mode"
and JUST as the guy gets his cookies off ol' Shockey jumps up outa and onto
his seat and starts yellin' at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS..."BING-GOOO...EFFF'IN
BING-GOOOO...BING-GOOO" !!!
Now, if you hadn't heard the story from a night or two before it wouldn't
have been so funny but the rest of just freakin' EEE-RUPTED in laughter
and I do believe the management or somebody came down to "ask"
us it hold it down a little!!! I have another story about the bus ride back
to Bourbon Street that night that's prett damned funny but I'll save that
one. Mikey Sweeney, Bauchert, Ed Rish, Hazelrigg, Schnell and Herman Doyle
and maybe a few other guys reading this will verify this post for content
and for memory after nearly 40 years!!! It was too freakin' funny!!!!!!!!!
Semper Fi and what we endured for Corps... and Country,
Nordy
and here is...the rest of the story!!!
Thanks, Jesse, I appreciate that you could enjoy (and fully understand via
the names of those involved) the story about the "stews" and Sgt.
Shockey (I still can't find the boy 'cause I have no idea where he was from
originally)!
But, I digress!
Same boys in the band...same night but about 2 hours later!
If you were in the PI band at the time and made that trip...you'll remember
that we had a PFC, from Calfornia, in the band at that time who thought
he was God's gift to wimmen! Hell, who of us didn't?! But this guy, Leroy
M. Leale Service number # 2679689/MOS 5563, was BEEE-YOND obnoxious in that
respect (Mikey Sweeny and I have had this conversation recently) and was
basically a stuck up, royal pain in the ass about most things. Admittedly,
he was a good lookin' kid but it was his arrogance and general attitude
that made him such an unmitigated and worthless B-O-R-E...and this story
so freakin' PRICELESS!!!
So...we're all outside near the theater waiting for the transit bus to take
us back downtown to Bourbon Street to continue partying and the contact
place for a military bus ride back to the base at the appointed time! Pretty
soon here comes our ride and as it stops to pick us up there are but TWO
PEOPLE on the bus...the driver and a lone female, decent looking as I remember
and well under the age of 80...or "fair game", as it were!!!
I need to explain the "bus" for a minute. The driver sits where
all drivers do...the first seats behind him FACE INBOARD on either side
of the bus which is where Miss Unsuspecting Female is seated and then the
rest of the seats face forward as you would expect.
So, with the lady in question seated directly behind the driver we, being
the good Marines that we all are...start filling in seats as close together
as we can...and as near to this poor woman as is humanly possible!!! And
PFC Leale manages to sit right next to this poor woman and I am sitting
(also facing inboard) across the aisle from her and able to see and hear
everything about to take place.
Off we go headed downtown and right away Mr. God's Gift starts running his
mouth trying his damnedest to get friendly with this lady who, at the same
time, is doing her level best to ignore any and everything Leale is spouting
off. I mean, he is using every line, lame or otherwise, he can think of
to get her attention which quickly becomes a roll your eyes here and wonder
when the boy is just going to "give it up, Dude" and shut the
hell up for a change!
Please bear in mind that we are all in civvies only with short haircuts
showing that we "might" not be civilians. Anyway, after many minutes
continually bombarding this poor woman with bullshit and in desperation
to "get somewhere"...Leale pipes up with the line "so, do
you know who we are???"...thinking to impress her that we are all members
of THE Marine Corps Band in town for the Sugar Bowl Parade, right?! She
finally turns to face him for the first time and says in a very matter of
fact voice..."why yes I do...I work with guys like you every day!!!"
to which Leale brightens right up thinking he's finally getting somewhere
with her! He then says to her something like "Oh really...so where
do you work???" to which she quickly and clearly replies for all of
us to hear..." I work at the Louisiana Stae Mental Hospital" and
promptly turns to face back where she was prior to all of this!!!
To tell you that, even on a dark city bus you could see the color of Leale's
totally SHUT DOWN face and that she had so completely and definitively gotten
in "the LAST WORD" was immediate cause for the rest of us coming
completely and totally UN-FREAKIN"-GLUED would be an under statement
to say the least. The poor bus driver, having had to listen to ALL of Leale's
continuous drivel was forced, as I remember, to pull the bus over to the
curb until he could get control of his own laughter and could continue on.
It was about as good as it gets and could NOT, trust me, have happened to
a more deserving individual than PFC Leroy M. Leale!!! The lady deserved
a freakin' OSCAR for her tming and delivery, that's for damned sure!!! My
stomach is still sore from falling onto the floor of that bus in uncontrolled
and tearful laughter!!! And, I have corroberating (sp?) witnesses available!!!
And, THAT, as they say...is THE REST...of the story!!!
Cpl. Nordy... Serial number 2563797.MOS 5537
Nordy...Donald Kidd was on a concert tour in Russia when he was drafted into the Marines.
He was a conscientious objector (can you believe the Marines still took him?!) but he was a fine guy and would (and did) do any thing and every thing except touch a rifle. All the guys at P.I. respected him and he fit in just fine, as I remember.
Once in a while he'd go in to Beaufort or the surrounding area to play a piano recital for the broads that wore white gloves. Of course he ate that up (and so did the higher social set) and the band had a good reputation and standing in the community because of him.
If my grey cells have it right I believe when he got out he was hired as a piano professor at the Boston Conservatory of Music, or some high sounding institution like that.
For those of you that might not be aware of it the H shaped, wooden barracks that housed the band/field music students/rehearsal hall at P.I. has been torn down-it is now a vacant grassy field. The old band parking lot is still there and has been enlarged a little bit.
Remember the band sign in front of the barracks with a small bush at either end? Well, of course the band sign is gone but those two bushes are now two LARGE trees.
Remember the LARGE tree at the curb by the old barracks that we spent many an hour standing by as we waited on a motor pool bus to take us to so many 'exotic' gigs? Well, it's still there, waiting to cast its refreshing shade on a hot P.I. summer day over another group of bandsmen waiting to go on another commitment...like the annual Rivers Bridge (the South shall rise again!) S. Carolina 'pep' rally sponsored by the Daughters of the Confederacy? They would always have Congressman Mendel Rivers as their guest speaker and not only did he look the role of a typical Confederate Congressman
(pure thick long white hair blowing in the breeze) but after his 'Damn them Yankees' speech we always wondered if maybe he was behind another Secessionist movement.
The best thing about that annual gig was the (real) barrel of lemonade that the same elderly lady would make, using her own secret recipe.
We'd always look forward to that job, just because of that lemonade. Of course no one knew what she had in it but I know the band was always very giggly going back to P.I. on the bus-as best as I can REMEMBER!)
Remember all the sea gulls on the parade ground during our parades, etc.? There was a guy in the band named Dodd that always carried on a conversation with one of them-we always thought he had some sort of a personal relationship with it...that possibility was not too much of a stretch if you knew Dodd.
These stories might make you think P.I. was my favorite duty station-well, it was, all three tours during the sixties...met my wife there/played 4 years in the Savannah symphony/lots of beach runs to Hunting Island...and we played a graduation parade 5 days a week for guys headed to 'Nam. San Diego was graduating 5 days a week also, which meant about 7-800 guys a week, total. They now graduate each Friday, missing a Friday now and then.
Sorry for all the rambling, guys, but let's face it, I miss marching behind the guy in front of me and seeing who it is on the countermarch.
We've just had the Mother of all snow storms-for Oklahoma-14 inches-they declared it an official blizzard, with more due today and Thursday. I got my 4 wheeler out and had a ball.
Oh, where the field music school was is now a very nice restaurant with floor to ceiling windows and a nice patio with tables, etc. outside facing the river.
Every Thursday the graduating recruits and their families have lunch there with their drill instructors...pretty cool, I think.
Hope to see all of you at roll call at Pendleton next April. It's the 25th anniversary of MCMA and we're going to dedicate and name the band hall after bandsman MSgt McClung who was killed in Korea as he was rescuing wounded Marines off a truck that was on fire.
Check out the December issue of Leatherneck magazine, page 41, with picture, about another Marine bandsman.
Hope you all had a great Christmas and will have an even greater New Year.
6 bits, and remember, when in doubt, TRILL!!
Jesse.
WOW,Jesse!!! That was an incredible e-mail of NORDY LENGTH proportions!!! Good for you and I'll say a prayer for your typing digit after that one! Hope it wasn't yer "trillin' digit'?!And what a wealth of information to boot!
I knew from what you had said earlier that the old band barracks was gone. How about waiting for "Freddie the dry cleaner guy" and his little white (was it a Ford) van and our uniforms underneath that big tree? How much money do you suppose he made off the band over the years??? Paid for that van a hundred times over, I'll bet!
I'll bet that's a pretty snazzy restaurant out where the field musiv skool was. And, except where I remember the "O" Club being...as good a "view" of the water as anywhere on the island, too. I'll bet on a summer's eve you can hear the strains of a hundred marches out amongst the sand fleas and crickets?! And the ghost of Top Tyson screamin' at the field musics from the confines of his "plush" office to shut the hell up or else...?! There are some memories of lots of stuff from those old wooden barracks. Maybe us snuffy's could get Swiger to make a "Club Run" if he's not too busy?! Or Mad Mike Mountain Montgomery to get some of his bass ingstruminks outa the rehearsal hall and store 'em in his room so we could get Bill Schnell to tell us all "how it was back in his day"?
And, please get somebody to holler at T-t-t-top P-p-p-pete so he can take the boys to colors so that, when we have played for Maj. Gen. Oscar F. Peatross, the bulldog and they've gone back inside the heaqd shed he can holler...."B-b-b-band... At ease..
S-s-s-s-CRATCH"!!! Ya just gotta love them sand fleas!!!
Thanks, Jesse and we will indeed...
Catch ya on the Countermarch,
Nordy
Nordy...I like your way of remembering P.I....yes, I bet what I 'heard' while I was standing under THE tree last April was a mix of sounds, like the sounds of Sousa emanating from the rehearsal hall/the field music instructors (now, THERE was a crew!) shouting sweet nothings to their students-remember the night the Officer of the Day caught two instructors in the swamp with a student, having him do push ups in the muck for 'instructional purposes'! It was dark but I literally saw the OD turn blanche white-it hadn't been that long since McKeon had marched his platoon in to the swamp/creek.
Yes, I can hear Tyson ranting and raving-and good ol' Pete saying, "It's o-o-o-o-kay, John, just c-c-c-c-alm down!"...I can still hear the band tuning up in the parking lot before stepping off for morning Colors five mornings a week. Just think, the bands never (only on 'special' occasions) play morning Colors any more-a great band field tradition that's gone the way of the Ike jacket...I can still smell the aroma when the band passed the bakery on the way to Colors on Mondays and Thursdays-the mornings they baked fresh bread. We would be marching on the drum tap at that time and all through the band you'd hear guys saying "Aaah's/Ooooh's/etc., and Pete would have to say, "Okay, you guys, kn-kn-kn-knock it off!"...can't you still picture/hear the band playing at the Generals house on his birthday on our way to Colors-his nick name was 'Tiger'...he'd come out in his tiger pattern robe with a cup of coffee in his tiger cup and just beam when we'd play "Hold That Tiger"! He'd always say, "Mighty fine, boys...outstandin'".
There was some might good fishing in those waters for those so inclined, also. Last spring a guy caught a 1200 pound shark just off where the band barracks/field music school was.
...I can still smell the perfume at the WM graduations as they passed in review...can hear the echo of the band playing the Hymn as we held Hellcat Reveille on the recruits at O Dark Thirty...playing it as loud as we could to vent our displeasure at having to get up at such an ungodly hour-boy, the sound sure ricocheted standing between those brick barracks...then we played in the narrow hall way of the Hostess House EARLY one morning to wake up a bunch of civilian business people...another time that we gave it all we had-the Corps did NOT earn any brownie points that morning!
Sorry guys, I'm ramblin' again...but you're right, Nordy, we SURE don't want to get Bill Shnell talkin'! Ol' Bill got my thanks and respect last April, though, when he personally picked up Mrs. Marjorie (Andy) Olesak and brought her to our reunion banquet and sat her down at the head table...a real class act.
We remained in the Beaufort area until late June and I went to see/hear all the Friday morning Colors ceremonies the band played. I always went in time to get a front row center seat so I could soak up the stereo sound of the band. Hearing/seeing that band play in the cool air of the morning in front of the Headquarters building...well, it just don't get no better than that. One thing about Sid Snellings, like him or not, he certainly brought our band field in to the 2
Jesse
COBREA-SAN!!! Shame the hell on you, Man...beatin' up on a bunch of poor geezerated Bando Boys like that!!! The boys are tired...and sleepy and, well, they're SLACKIN'!!! It's what Bando Boys DO when they get the chance!!!
I loved Jesse's story about the blind guy and the sousaphone case!!! Trust me, you DO NOT make stuff like that up!
One story barely fit to print was the same PI Band in New Orleans for the 1970 (going into '71) Sugar Bowl Parade. I believe Mr. Bauchert is the only one on here who can verify the first part but one of the first nites in N.O. at least Bauchert and Sgt. Gary Shockey went to the newly remodeled NCO or enlisted club on the Navy base we stayed at there and, in the course of events at least Mr. Shockey ended up playing Bingo!
As the story goes (and it gets better after a few MORE beers...) Shockey is within like 2 numbers of a pretty good pay out, whatever amount it was I have no idea but in 1970, married and on an E-5's wages it "woulda helped"!!! So he supposedly leans over to Bauchert and says "If I get these last two numbers...I'm gonna jump up on this table, drop my drawers and start (well, I'm sure you can put your imagination to work here)... and yell BINGO...at the top of my lungs"!!!
Well, he didn't win!
A nght or two later about 15 or 20 of us go into town for a few beers and a movie. The movie was called "The Stewardesses" and was in 3-D...complete with 3-D glasses upon entrance to the theater. We all pretty much sat together in the middle of the movie house and the movie starts out with a gal knocking on an apartment door. No answer but the door is unlocked so she goes in! Walks down a hall (by now you can hear the sounds of heavy breathing and assorted others sometimes associated with sexual conduct...and NOT the unbecoming kind, either).
She rounds a corner and with the aid of the 3-D glasses her lady friend's legs come right through the screen at ya and you see the white uniform back and beanie of a Squid bobbin'up and down and in full "operational mode" and JUST as the guy gets his cookies off ol' Shockey jumps up outa and onto his seat and starts yellin' at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS..."BING-GOOO...EFFF'IN BING-GOOOO...BING-GOOO" !!!
Now, if you hadn't heard the story from a night or two before it wouldn't have been so funny but the rest of just freakin' EEE-RUPTED in laughter and I do believe the management or somebody came down to "ask" us it hold it down a little!!! I have another story about the bus ride back to Bourbon Street that night that's prett damned funny but I'll save that one. Mikey Sweeney, Bauchert, Ed Rish, Hazelrigg, Schnell and Herman Doyle and maybe a few other guys reading this will verify this post for content and for memory after nearly 40 years!!! It was too freakin' funny!!!!!!!!!
Semper Fi and what we endured for Corps... and Country,
Nordy
Good Evening All,
I am still laughing my butt off after reading Jess’s story about the trumpet player and the horseshit. Unbelievable!! Well, I thought as long as we were sharing, I’d contribute.
Back in 1968 I finished boot and reported to 29 Palms. Well, we all know there was someone appointed to drive the truck that hauled the instruments around and followed the bus to the functions we were playing. There was this tall drink of water named Cpl. Peak. He was a trombone player out of Texas. He was the driver at that time. Wouldn’t you know he was a short timer. About 6 months went by and the upper brass decided I was their selection to replace Cpl. Peak. From that point on I had to ride shotgun and more or less learn from Cpl Peak as to do’s and don’ts.
We went to motor pool and picked up the truck, drove back to the band barracks, loaded and followed the bus to Los Angeles. Through 20 Palms, many small towns and up and over the mountains ( steep hills ). We made the site and played the job. Then began the trip home. The bus took off and we were far behind. Cpl decided to pull over at the next gas station to fill up. Well, we had one of those Chevy trucks with the large box on the chasis. The overall height was about 12.5 feet. Cpl Peak pulled over and into the gas station shooting for the standard gasoline pump. One thing he forgot was the overhang on the gas station was lower than the box. We hit that overhang lifting the front wheels off the ground. We damaged the truck box and did the overhang some real damage as well. Needless to say the owner of the station was pissed. Cpl Peak just about died but the look on his face after hitting it was priceless. I was so embarrassed I could have crawled under the truck. Anyway, we gave him all the information and told him the Marine Corps would take care of the damage.
We got back to 29 Palms and you wouldn’t believe the shit he took for hitting the overhand. From that day forward I was the new driver. Well, that is the beginning of another chapter in the 29 Palms Band history. You see, I came from a town of 600 people. I grew up in farm country back in Wisconsin. I never even drove on a freeway before then and driving in traffic in Los Angeles was quite an eye opening experience. My sense of direction sucked. After a few jobs they band gave me a new nickname. It was “ Wrongway Ruh “. Came close to missing a few jobs as I sometimes got separated from the bus. Poor sense of direction sure didn’t help.
So, now you have it. I often wondered if anyone knew or remembered Cpl Peak.
Take Care Guys and Semper Fi!!!!!
Darrell
From Mark Kildow. One day I was cleaning the wax out of my ears and Top/Gus comes up to me and says "you need to get your little butt up to Camp Butler and do that drummer thing you do. They are having a change of command and need to march a bunch of Marines around." I stop taking the wax out of my ear and say "sure thing Top." "How do I get there?"
Top says go over to the motor pool and a chopper will be waiting for you. So I grab my drum and sticks. My ride was the 3 star generals bird (pictured). There were three seats in the bird. Pilot, co-pilot and one extra big comfy seat right behind and in the middle of the chopper for the general. I salute the two officers and they tell me to jump in the generals chair. They then hand me his helmet (three stars) and tell me to buckle up. Nice chair.
We zip up to Camp Butler and I walk over to the parade deck and am greeted by a nice Lt. Col. He thanks me for flying out and gives me the rundown on what he wants to do. I do my drummer thing. At the end, the Lt. Col shakes my hand and says thanks and sends me back to where the bird is waiting (along with an escort). There (see the attached picture) is the generals bird with two officers waiting for me. Again I hit the big leather seat, put on the 3 star general's helmet and off we go back to Cortney.
Now THAT was fun!!!!!!
Doc
Evening colors always reminded me of the values of the Corps: honor commitment loyalty devotion to duty
So on this particular day at the top of the hill by the monument it was a beautiful evening with the beautiful bay view. The flag was waving a bit and the day was done. The honor guard was looking sharp.
I blew attention to colors. Remember how it was on a Marine Corps Bases?
Everything came to a halt. All vehicles stopped and personnel faced the hill. Uniformed Marines rendered the salute
As I blew Retreat I remember the Colors waving in the beeze as it was lowered and the Honor Guard preparing to handle it. It was quite the sight for a kid away from home in a strange land. I recall as the final notes faded with the breeze how deathly quiet it was. My playing had been flawless (for whatever reason)
After the colors had been secured the OD walked up to me. He was a
Major as I recall and his uniform shirt hadmore ribbons on it than you could shake a stick at! After I saluted and he returned the salute he shook my hand and told me that my rendition of Colors was outstanding and the most beautiful retreat he had heard! As I looked at him I realized that he had a glass left eyeball. No doubt a gift from Vietnam And etched on the eyeball was a colored EGA! I did not know what to think at the time other than I knew for sure he was a lifer. But in retrospect withthe wisdom of a 60 year old I know my initial reaction belief was wrong It has taken me a long time to really appreciate that moment and its gift!
SEMPER FI!!!!!!!!
Rico
I’m at 29 Palms and the USMC is putting together the bunch of guys that will make up the band that will march in the Rose bowl parade (1971). The band is made up of the best musicians from each of the “post” bands in the continental United States. We are all playing music that will be played during the course of the parade. As we all play, a couple of Master Sergeants moves around us tell some to stay and others to leave. After about 4-5 songs, half of the guys have been removed and the remaining guys will make up the band. I was one that was remaining. Not that I play all that well but I did give the Sergeant Major a pretty good blow job that morning so I was assured a spot playing snare drum in the Rose parade.
The morning of the parade we take our places and march the 8 miles that make up the Rose Bowl parade route. Talk about sweating. There was water dripping off the cuffs of my dress blues. We get free tickets to the game and that night they took us (the few of us that made the band Rose Band from 29 Palms) to Las Vegas for a night on the town. The driver parks behind a casino and tells us to be back at 2:00am so he can get us back to the base. We are all in full dress blues.
I decide to take off on my own and go to one of the casino bars on the strip. Up till now, no one will look a solder in the eye (yet alone a Marine) because of the unpopularity of the war. I feel alone and sit at the bar and order a scotch and water. I’m drinking the drink and the bartender brings me another. I give him the look and say “I didn’t order another drink” (worried about how much the thing is going to cost). The bar tender said that someone who wished to remain unanimous purchased the drink for me. I turn around to a bar full of people and raise the drink in a show of thanks. I turn and start to drink it. Very quickly the bartenders put another 10 drinks in front of me. I tell the bartender that there is NO WAY I can drink all those drinks. Again… he says he’s just following the orders of the patrons. A silent “thank you” from the people in the bar to a single Marine. Before I know it, there are three bartenders working on 20 more drinks they place in front of me, That’s 30 drinks and they are all the way around me. I’m without words.
I finish the third drink, grab my cover and head to the door leaving 28 drinks untouched. The people in the bar stood and applauded me as I left. I was totally humbled by such a show of thanks and gratitude to a single Marine. I told myself that I would pass this story on to other Marines so they too would know that there are a lot of people out there that support and love the Marines even though they don’t say much about it.
Got a little choked up walking out of the bar.
Doc
I remember in Oki when we had to do a force march with HQ Battalion at zero dark 30. There were 4 platoons involved. We, the band, started as the last platoon. As the march progressed, the lead platoon would go to the rear. Later the new lead platoon would go to the rear again and so forth. When we became the lead platoon, just a ways from HQ, we were ordered to double-time back to the main gate. The instrument truck was waiting for us. We were then told to break out our instruments. We went into formation and greeted the 3 arriving platoons with the Marines hymn. As were played, we could hear all the bitching about how the band doesn't have to do force marches like they have to. All we could do was laugh at them. Guess they didn't realize that we were the lead platoon that double-timed back to base. Semper Fi!
Sgt Don
