I decided to clean up my Tumblr and actually use it for something other then taking up E-space on the net.
Ok so I have decided that I am going to give my account of my time in the Marines from before to after. I will strive to be as truthful as possible. There will be some bull shit or things I paraphrase. Take what I say with a grain of salt. I am not condoning nor am I damning the U.S. Marines. This is me getting something off my chest that has been bugging me for a long time now. I feel the only way to deal with it is to just get typed or written somewhere.
The first obvious place to start is some background. Why bother I can hear someone ask? Because my experiences of my past have colored my perception and actions in the present and likely my future. They also help me to remember details I have not thought too much on in a long while.
Hmm I think I will start with some family history. The history of my family and the military spans American history to some point before the civil war. The closer we get to The War of 1812 and The American Revolution the harder it becomes to find any family in the U.S. at all. So we will just say from the Civil War clear through to modern times.
The more immediate influence comes from my direct relatives and immediate family. My grandfather on my fathers side and his wife was a daughter of two Scottish Immigrants. To the best of our knowledge she was a U.S. citizen by the time my father was born if she was not born a citizen. My father is more or less half-Scottish.
From my moms side my grandfather was Coroner for Kennewick Washington. Ol’ Doc Kite. My grandmother was a home maker and avid gardener.
Not much more is really known about my grandparents as they were all dead and buried by the time I was 19.
Now for the closest family military history.
My grandfather (fathers side) was a soldier in the U.S. Army. He saw fighting in the Korean war. He spent time as a bog standard infantry man, time with tanks, and time with the Air Born. The history of this is difficult to verify because my grandfather left so little behind to indicate what he did in life. At some point my grandfather got his degree in medicine as a Ear, Nose, and Throat (Otolaryngology) Doctor. He picked up his commission as an officer in the U.S. Army as and Army Doctor. At some point he had become jaded and likely bitter about the Army and left the service before Vietnam as a Lt. Colonel. (The bitter and jaded part seems to be a family trait). He got out and started his own practice. He had four children two sons and two daughters.
Both of his sons at some point would join a branch of the U.S. military and serve during a U.S. conflict.
My father joined the United States Air Force after earning his degree in Biology from Washington State University. He worked odd jobs such as a metal work for the Hanford Nuclear plant, driving combines and tractors (grew up a farm boy), and other odd jobs. Finally he decided that he was tired of working the odd jobs and decided to join the airforce and become a pilot. So my father earned his commission and joined the ranks of the Cold War warriors as a pilot of B-52 G/H Bombers.
At some point hist brother, my uncle, joined the Navy as as a sonar tech. He did a standard hitch to the best of my recollection. For a while they just did a lot of training missions. Then Saddam’s forces invaded Kuwait. My Uncles ship deployed to the Gulf my father Made it as far as Guam where they were getting ready to ship to the fight. The war ended before my fathers plane saw any action. My uncle on the other hand got to see first hand what a 20mm Autocannon Deck gun does to Fiber Glass Speed boats with guys toting RPG-7’s in them. The description is bluish white for water hits, a white flash for hits on metal, a sort of greyish black puff for a hit on the boats fiber glass, and pinkish red mist when you hit crew. The poor bastards who did suicide runs on the ships to fire RPG’s at them got shredded.
My father slightly disappointed his missed out was still in. Then the big draw down of the Clinton Era hit. My father was landed behind a desk. After about a year or so of this he couldn’t get back into a cockpit. The man had joined chiefly to fly. So he resigned his commission.
Not long after my uncle returned to civilian life as well.
My father spent 7 years looking for work as a pilot. He got odd pilot jobs. He got treated like crap by corporate goons, pilot unions in the airlines, and some guy who hired him as a part time pilot while he healed from surgery. My father ended up working out of lumber yards and eventually Home Depot. My mother became a dental assisstant. We lost our house in Spokane WA, due to shady shit that is now familiar and common to the public. We ended up living a crap shack house that had been a day care and old folks home. It lacked adequate insulation (Eastern Washington gets really damn cold in the winter), had non-functioning base board heaters, no gas heating, and a fire place in the basement. We lived there for a year. Not exactly an experience I want to dwell on.
Well one of his friends from his flight crew called and said the Air force was in desperate need of experienced pilots with multi-engine craft flight hours. My father gets on that. In year we moved to Offut air force base.
About 12 days after my 18th Birthday I notice the recruiters doing their displays. I had wanted to joint he military since I was young. I couldn’t ignore the calling. I had to. I can’t explain the drive but I was set on joining the military.
That day I saw recruiters for every branch. The Air Force man in his starched and pressed blues (not what I was looking for), the Navy guy in his bleached whites, sloppy mustache and pot belly ( oh hell no), and the Army guy had a gut that didn’t fit and rumpled camouflage uniform (seriously I have no idea how this guy got to work for the recruiters). I was not really impressed and having some second thoughts. At the end of the tables however was the 6ft Tall slab of human doberman dressed in pressed, clean, and very tidy Dress blue trousers and Khaki shirt. Had the high and tight and face like a recruitment driver poster child. The man had biceps the size of my head and hard look on his face. I will never forget Staff Sergeant Angel. Yes that is his real name.
Needless to say which one impressed me enough to start talking and getting ready to join the Delayed Enlistment Program. The very first step for me into joining the Corps and becoming a Marine.