| Author | Message | ||
     Wolfridgerider |
Since 1775.... Happy Birthday to all my fellow Jarheads! SEMPER FI! Sgt 85 to 91 1833 YATYAS (Message edited by wolfridgerider on November 10, 2008) | ||
| Hammer71 |
back at ya bro Semper fi | ||
| Devdawg |
On 10 Nov 1775 the Continental Congress resolved… "That two battalions of Marines be raised consisting of one colonel, two lieutenant colonels, two majors and officers as usual in other regiments; that they consist of an equal number of privates with other battalions; that particular care be taken that no person be appointed to office or enlisted into said battalions, but such as are good seamen, or so acquainted with maritime affairs as to be able to serve to advantage by sea." …Later that day, Robert Mullan, a Philadelphia businessman, established the first Marine Corps Recruiting Station, appropriately, in his bar, the Tun Tavern. What followed is 230 years of “heart breakin’ and life takin’” tradition, which some say has been unimpeded by progress. To my fellow Marines, as I pause to celebrate the glory of our Corps I will raise a toast to you and to those that have gone before. To my family and friends of the Corps, sleep peaceably in your beds tonight knowing that your Marine Corps stands ready to do violence on your behalf. Happy Birthday Marines. Semper Fidelis, Carl McLeod -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------ I have included below, a Marine Corps birthday story that I’m sure you will enjoy: The last week of October was soggy all across northern I Corps. Low clouds hung over the DMZ, filtering the weak sunlight so that shapes barely 100 yards away were shadows. The fire support base at Con Thien, the "Hill of Angles", was a quagmire. Days of heavy rain had turned the red earth into gruel. On the tank trail and other places churned by tracked vehicles the yard deep mud had the consistency of pudding. Passing vehicles splashed parallel channels that quickly refilled with the oozing, relentless, muck. The soupy substance was level with the running boards of trucks and flowed into the floorboards of smaller vehicles. Marines trying to cross the road were forced to wait until a tank or armored personnel carrier passed, momentarily clearing two semi-solid footholds in the sea of sucking, clinging mud. As a vehicle passed, the young men would jump into the closest track, regain their balance and leap to the second track. Men too slow or with legs too short to clear the sometimes waist deep furrows found themselves encased in the slime, tugging mightily to extricate themselves before the next speeding vehicle approached. Boots hastily pulled on without being tightly laced were frequently left behind, and once the mud closed over anything in its grasp, all trace of the item disappeared. Woe be unto the individual who had the misfortune or poor judgement to allow his weapon to slip below the surface. The single-track road leading south towards Cam Lo and Route Nine was all but impassable. Nothing moved north or south except absolutely essential men and materials. Men trudged forward, bent from the waist, laboriously pulling each foot from the mire only to plunge it once more into the filth, driven downward by the weight of weapons and equipment. Vehicles slewed and slid along, spraying everything and everybody with the ever-present mud. The low weather, coupled with a high tempo of operations further west, severely limited the helicopter transportation available. The limited airlift placed an increased burden on the ground transport wallowing up "ambush alley" through the fire support bases at Yankee Station and Charlie Two. Anything other than ammunition, fuel and the inevitable "C" rations remained in the marshalling areas at Dong Ha, the 3rd Marine Division "rear". As the supply line stretched thinner and thinner, items other than essentials began to disappear. Eventually, an evening arrived when the last warm Black Label was consumed. Searches through the bunkers buried in the soggy hillside confirmed that the Marines at Con Thien were out of beer. Beer took on a greater prominence at the firebases scattered across the top of South Vietnam. Most of the potable water was so heavily chlorinated that its taste resembled a cross between Listerine and diesel fuel. Clothes or skin washed with this water smelled like chorine almost permanently. Many a thirst was quenched and many a meal was eaten with warm beer rather than water. Beer was a link to the "world", a momentary glimpse back at recently departed days of high school and parties and girls. Beer was the international currency. Beer could acquire things that money could not touch. A young Marine who would not sell his last bar of soap for any amount of MPC would gladly do so for enough beer. (MPC (military payment currency) was monopoly money printed with colorful and idyllic scenes of a peaceful Vietnam none of the Marines in northern I Corps had ever seen). Soap, cigarettes, and other creature comforts were often available if there was beer to trade. A convoy stranded at some tiny outpost when the road closed each evening might easily persuade an adventurous tank crew to escort them "home" for the promise of a case of beer. Drinking beer was macho, Marines were macho. Marines drank beer. As the rains continued into November, the Marines at Con Thien were out of beer. As transportation slowed and supplies became harder to find only war-related ingredients moved. Despite the quicksand roads, the heavy skies, and the frequent enemy interruptions, the Army, that well-spring of endless shinny new trucks and clean uniforms continued to resupply their eight inch howitzer battery with the huge artillery ammunition necessary to support the war. At least twice each week Army ammunition convoys made the trek from Dong Ha and Quang Tri carrying their deadly missiles. Late one afternoon a fantastic rumor spread through the water logged Marines clinging to the sides of Con Thien: The most recent Army resupply had brought in a pallet (84 cases) of beer! Evidently the Army battery commander intended to issue his men a ration of beer each day as a morale booster. The Army had locked this treasure in a closely guarded CONEX box. This box, a 10-foot square steel container sat squarely in the middle of the artillery battery's area, several yards away from the nearest bunker or gun emplacement. The hinged door of the box was secured with a heavy chain bound with a massive padlock. Access to the CONEX box was comparable to holding the keys to Ft Knox. The Marines operating the intelligence gathering outpost at Con Thien possessed a small diesel fuel generator. Their powerful radios could not operate on batteries and as the sole source of electricity, they had parleyed their good fortune into admittance to the artillery battery's field mess. Providing the Army with lights was a small price to pay for warm chow once a day. As Marines lucky enough to eat in the Army field mess passed the CONEX box they would cast furtive glances in its direction, but extra attention brought instant jealous reactions from nearby soldiers. No dragon ever guarded her horde more suspiciously than that beer was guarded. As days passed and the solder's daily ration shrunk the beer supply, the Marines became desperate. Beer was being consumed, beer, the fruit of the gods, the currency of the world, the mark of manhood, was in the hands of the dog faced, draft-riddled, United States Army! Private First Class Murdoch was standing radio watch, monitoring the situation reports and time checks of the Marines standing the "lines" and operating the evening's listening post outside the perimeter. Suddenly, four of his platoon mates burst into the operations bunker. Smeared with mud, they demanded the unit's bolt cutters, part of the inventory of items each successive Marine dutifully inventoried and signed for when assuming radio watch. Murdoch was extremely apprehensive about relinquishing control of any of the items he was signed for. Previous personal counseling sessions with the First Sergeant had impressed upon him the importance of "taking charge of his post and all government property in view". No amount of cajoling or threatening could convince Murdoch to deliver the bolt cutters. Finally, after a hushed consultation the quartet of Marines confided in Murdoch that they needed the bolt cutters to "unlock" the Army's CONEX box. A young man of screwed judgement and unusual analytical skills, Murdoch immediately produced the bolt cutters, admonishing his fellow conspirators that their loss would result in another, more instructional, visit with the First Sergeant. Armed with the bolt cutters, the four Marines disappeared into the rainstorm pounding Con Thien. Murdoch's mind soon began to conjure up countless situations which would prompt the First Sergeant to need those bolt cutters in the middle of a dark, rainy night. Each sound from outside the bunker brought visions of the approaching First Sergeant, something to be anticipated with much more apprehension that any North Vietnamese sapper foolish enough to be out on such a miserable night. Finally Murdoch could stand the waiting no longer and stepped out into the night, turning toward the Army artillery battery invisible in the rain. As he anxiously searched for signs of his returning bolt cutters, the artillery battery burst into a frenzy of light and activity. Flashlights criss-crossed the area, men could be seen running from bunkers and shouts pierced the distance between Murdoch and the turmoil. Murdoch's heart sank, his friends had been discovered, the bolt cutters would be lost, he would spend more quality time with the First Sergeant, and worst of all, there would be no beer. As the rain pounded his helmet, Murdoch forlornly watched the artillery battery and tried to compose some plausible excuse for his dereliction of duty. Slowly the activity beyond him became more orderly and concentrated in four specific areas. Murdoch was sure the would-be beer thieves must be cornered. In addition to any official reprimands his friends would receive he was sure they would also be handled none to gently by their captors. As his mind raced, trying to decide if he should call for reinforcements or just wait for the inevitable, he noticed that the four concentrations of activity did not converge as they should have with four captured Marines. The soldiers were not cornering his platoon mates; they were preparing their four howitzers for an emergency fire mission! Life was good again, perhaps his friends would survive the night, perhaps he would get the First Sergeant's bolt cutters back; perhaps there would be beer. As the roar of the huge cannons began to split the night and high explosive and steel began to rain down somewhere out on the coastal plain, Murdoch resumed his anxious wait. Slowly, stealthily, four apparitions appeared out of the night. These things weren't his comrades, these things weren't even human! Four characters from some grade B horror film approached him. Four squishing, dripping, misshapen globs of mud, unrecognizable as any known living creature, each carrying two cases of beer (and one also carrying a pair of bolt cutters) panted up to the operations bunker door. The Marines had arrived and the situation was well in hand. Amidst laughter and gulps of air, Murdoch's friends explained how they crept up the ridge to the CONEX box, froze in it's shadows as the artillery battery came alive in preparation for the fire mission, and then, masked by the noise and confusion of the moment, captured their objective! Murdoch, with the bolt cutters once more safely in their proper place, added that he was glad he had loaned them for the "mission". His friends exchanged glances and then explained that unbelievably, they had found the key in the CONEX box's lock! The bolt cutters weren't even used! Perhaps the sweetest part of the entire escapade was that the eight cases of beer now in the possession of the Marines had been the last cases in the container. Now they had beer and the Army didn't! Next morning, the CONEX box was found securely locked, but the key was nowhere to be found. Once the chain was cut and the loss discovered the entire battery area was turned upside down. When the battery commander learned that the last of his beer was missing, life became miserable. Extra duty was meted out for the most minor infractions, and the CO's rage, transmitted to his noncoms, soon permeated the entire command. The day after the Marine's raid on the Army beer locker was November 10th, the 194th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Although holidays arrived and passed in Vietnam with little more than a pause, the Marines always found time to celebrate their heritage. In trenches in France, in swamps and jungles in the Pacific, on frozen ridgelines in Korea, and in countless other locations, sometimes in the midst of battle, the greeting "Happy Birthday Marine!" had been repeated for almost two centuries. Despite his foul mood as a result of the beer theft, the artillery battery commander greatly admired the Marines, and offered the meager fare available in his field mess for a birthday celebration. A crude cake was prepared and plans went forward for all Marines not occupied with duties to assemble in the artillery battery for a cake cutting. Late on the afternoon of the 10th the Marines gathered on the hill at Con Thien. Most were covered in mud, many were injured, and all were weary. The combination of the foul weather, the rigors of life literally scratched from the earth and the ravages of regular and violent contact with the enemy left the young men near exhaustion. Nevertheless, it was the 10th of November and they would remember their fellow Marines and the heritage that made them the special breed they were. As the cake was cut, the Army commander remarked that the traditional toast would be missing from the Marine's celebration that year. From out of the gathering stepped five young men carrying armfuls of beer. Amid whoops and backslapping, they proudly passed out their treasure. C ration cans and canteen cups were soon filled and when all present, to include the Army battery commander, had a beer, the Marine company commander raised his can and toasted "Gentlemen, the United States Marine Corps!" Handshakes and birthday greetings were exchanged all around and as the weary Marines, now one year older, began to descend to their bunkers in the mud below the ridge, the Army commander thanked the Marine lieutenant for sharing his precious beer. Knowing what a priceless commodity beer was, the Army officer remarked that this was just another illustration of the discipline of the Marines. While his soldiers had broken in and stolen the last of the Army beer, the Marines had the fortitude to save theirs for this occasion. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARINES! | ||
| Court |
Happy Birthday . . . . I showed up here ready to start a thread and was thrilled to find this. Off the spend the day with some fellow NYC Jarheads. Semper Fi Court | ||
| Paint_shaker |
Happy Birthday Mudder Bisches!! Semper Fi!! | ||
| Slowride |
May we revel in our Victories and remember the ones who stood next to us during the battles. May our battle colors be many and fly high above our heads... "Semper Fi" to God, Country and Corp... Micah | ||
| Boney95 |
Honor, Courage, Commitment... Happy Birthday Brothers! Semper Fi to Chesty | ||
| Patrickmitchell |
I've been off of active duty for almost 10 years, but I still really enjoy this day. Happy Birthday Marines! | ||
| Bandm |
Happy 233rd Marines! Ten quotations about U.S. Marines: The safest place in Korea was right behind a platoon of Marines. Lord, how they could fight! [MGen. Frank E. Lowe, USA; Korea, 26 January 1952] Marines know how to use their bayonets. Army bayonets may as well be paper-weights. [Navy Times; November 1994] Why in hell can't the Army do it if the Marines can. They are the same kind of men; why can't they be like Marines. [Gen. John J. "Black Jack" Pershing, USA; 12 February 1918] The United States Marine Corps, with it fiercely proud tradition of excellence in combat, its hallowed rituals, and its unbending code of honor, is part of the fabric of American myth. [Thomas E. Ricks; Making the Corps, 1997] The raising of that flag on Suribachi means a Marine Corps for the next five hundred years. [James Forrestal, Secretary of the Navy; 23 February 1945 (the flag-raising on Iwo Jima had been immortalized in a photograph by Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal)] I have just returned from visiting the Marines at the front, and there is not a finer fighting organization in the world! [Gen. Douglas MacArthur, USA; Korea, 21 September 1950] We have two companies of Marines running rampant all over the northern half of this island, and three Army regiments pinned down in the southwestern corner, doing nothing. What the hell is going on? [Gen. John W. Vessey Jr., USA, Chairman of the the Joint Chiefs of Staff; during the assault on Grenada, 1983] Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem. [Ronald Reagan, U.S. President; 1985] Marines I see as two breeds, Rottweilers or Dobermans, because Marines come in two varieties, big and mean, or skinny and mean. They're aggressive on the attack and tenacious on defense. They've got really short hair and they always go for the throat. [RAdm. "Jay" R. Stark, USN; 10 November 1995] They told (us) to open up the Embassy, or "we'll blow you away." And then they looked up and saw the Marines on the roof with these really big guns, and they said in Somali, "Igaralli ahow," which means "Excuse me, I didn't mean it, my mistake." [Karen Aquilar, in the U.S. Embassy; Mogadishu, Somalia, 1991] Ten quotations by U.S. Marines: For over 221 years our Corps has done two things for this great Nation. We make Marines, and we win battles. [Gen. Charles C. Krulak, USMC (CMC); 5 May 1997] Come on, you sons of bitches! Do you want to live forever? [GySgt. Daniel J. "Dan" Daly, USMC; near Lucy-`le-Bocage as he led the 5th Marines' attack into Belleau Wood, 6 June 1918] Gone to Florida to fight the Indians. Will be back when the war is over. [Col. Archibald Henderson, USMC (CMC); in a note pinned to his office door, 1836] Don't you forget that you're First Marines! Not all the communists in Hell can overrun you! [Col. Lewis B. "Chesty" Puller, USMC; rallying his First Marine Regiment near Chosin Reservoir, Korea, December 1950] Marines die, that's what we're here for. But the Marine Corps lives forever. And that means YOU live forever. [the mythical GySgt. Hartman, USMC; portrayed by GySgt. R. Lee Ermey, a Marine Corps Drill Instructor using his own choice of words in Full Metal Jacket, 1987] You'll never get a Purple Heart hiding in a foxhole! Follow me! [Capt. Henry P. Crowe, USMC; Guadalcanal, 13 January 1943] We are United States Marines, and for two and a quarter centuries we have defined the standards of courage, esprit, and military prowess. [Gen. James L. Jones, USMC (CMC); 10 November 2000] I have only two men out of my company and 20 out of some other company. We need support, but it is almost suicide to try to get it here as we are swept by machine gun fire and a constant barrage is on us. I have no one on my left and only a few on my right. I will hold. [1stLt. Clifton B. Cates, USMC; in Belleau Wood, 19 July 1918] I love the Corps for those intangible possessions that cannot be issued: pride, honor, integrity, and being able to carry on the traditions for generations of warriors past. [Cpl. Jeff Sornig, USMC; in Navy Times, November 1994] Semper Fi Mark | ||
| Brinnutz |
Happy Birthday Marines... When you need a ride, just give me a call. | ||
| F_skinner |
I am really missing my Dad today. Happy Birthday Marines. | ||
| Wolfridgerider |
I am really missing my Dad today. Happy Birthday Marines. No words I could type here would ever come close to expressing my sympathy.. Drink a cold one for him tonight.... and if thats not possible, I got ya covered. | ||
| P_squared |
Happy Birthday my fellow Leathernecks! | ||
| F_skinner |
Drink a cold one for him tonight.... and if thats not possible, I got ya covered. Thanks Mark, a perfect day working in the garage and having a few cold ones is in order. The only thing missing is calling the Sgt Maj to wish him a Happy Birthday. Nov 10th was always celebrated more in our house than any other Birthday. It usually consisted of a few Staff NCOs coming over to grill and drink (my Mom would not let them in the house LOL). Happy Birthday Dad!} In memory of Sgt Maj J R Skinner 1924-2008 USMC 42 - 71 Your son MSgt F E Skinner USAF Retired 80-03 | ||
| Brinnutz |
https://www.godaddy.com/gdshop/holiday/usmc2008/pl aymovie.asp?isc=gdp1116 | ||
| 86129squids |
Happy Birthday to the Corps! And deep thanks to all the veterans who have served our great country throughout the years. | ||
| Fester99 |
Happy Birthday Brothers!!! "Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference, and our Marines don't have that problem." - President Ronald Reagan, 1985 233rd Birthday Message: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2689pzVV6o Sgt/USMC 96-02 | ||
| Bill0351 |
It's important to remember there are a lot of guys in the field right now. Here is to them and all the Marines who came before.  | ||
| Sleez |
happy birthday brothers! semper fi! Cpl/USMC 85-92 MOS 6462 | ||
| 03worc9r |
Happy Birthday Semper Fi Sgt/USMC 01-05 | ||
| Smokescreen |
Semper Fidelis to my brethren. Especially all those still deployed who cannot partake in the our cold beverage indulgance. First round is on me when you make it stateside. I couldn't have picked a better family than this. Oooh rah Leathernecks! Carry on. Smokescreen | ||
| Teddagreek |
Semper Fi, my Brothers...  | ||
| P_squared |
Date Signed: 10/10/2008 ALMAR Number: 042/08 MSGID/GENADMIN/CMC WASHINGTON DC CMC// SUBJ/UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS BIRTHDAY MESSAGE - 10 NOVEMBER 2008// GENTEXT/REMARKS/1. DURING THE SUMMER OF 1982, IN THE WAKE OF A PRESIDENTIAL DIRECTIVE, MARINES WENT ASHORE AT BEIRUT, LEBANON. FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER, ON 23 OCTOBER 1983, EXTREMISTS STRUCK THE FIRST MAJOR BLOW AGAINST AMERICAN FORCES - STARTING THIS LONG WAR ON TERRORISM. ON THAT SUNDAY MORNING, A SUICIDE BOMBER DROVE AN EXPLOSIVE-LADEN TRUCK INTO THE HEADQUARTERS OF BATTALION LANDING TEAM 1/8, DESTROYING THE BUILDING AND KILLING 241 MARINES AND CORPSMEN. 2. EXTREMISTS HAVE ATTACKED OUR NATION, AT HOME AND ABROAD, NUMEROUS TIMES SINCE THAT FATEFUL DAY IN BEIRUT. THEIR AIM HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE SAME - TO KILL AS MANY INNOCENT AMERICANS AS POSSIBLE. THE ATTACKS OF 11 SEPTEMBER 2001 CHANGED OUR NATION FOREVER, AND OUR PRESIDENT HAS RESOLVED THAT THIS NATION WILL NOT STAND IDLE WHILE MURDEROUS TERRORISTS PLOT THEIR NEXT STRIKE. MARINES WILL CONTINUE TO TAKE THE FIGHT TO THE ENEMY - HITTING THEM ON THEIR OWN TURF, CRUSHING THEM WHEN THEY SHOW THEMSELVES, AND FINDING THEM WHERE THEY HIDE. 3. ONLY A FEW AMERICANS CHOOSE THE DANGEROUS, BUT NECESSARY, WORK OF FIGHTING OUR NATION’S ENEMIES. WHEN OUR CHAPTER OF HISTORY IS WRITTEN, IT WILL BE A SAGA OF A SELFLESS GENERATION OF MARINES WHO WERE WILLING TO STAND UP AND FIGHT FOR OUR NATION; TO DEFEND THOSE WHO COULD NOT DEFEND THEMSELVES; TO THRIVE ON THE HARDSHIP AND SACRIFICE EXPECTED OF AN ELITE WARRIOR CLASS; TO MARCH TO THE SOUND OF THE GUNS; AND TO ABLY SHOULDER THE LEGACY OF THOSE MARINES WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE. 4. ON OUR 233RD BIRTHDAY, FIRST REMEMBER THOSE WHO HAVE SERVED AND THOSE “ANGELS” WHO HAVE FALLEN - OUR REPUTATION WAS BUILT ON THEIR SACRIFICES. REMEMBER OUR FAMILIES; THEY ARE THE UNSUNG HEROES WHOSE SUPPORT AND DEDICATION ALLOW US TO ANSWER OUR NATION’S CALL. FINALLY, TO ALL MARINES AND SAILORS, KNOW THAT I AM PROUD OF YOU AND WHAT YOU DO. YOUR SUCCESSES ON THE BATTLEFIELD HAVE ONLY ADDED TO OUR ILLUSTRIOUS HISTORY. GENERAL VICTOR H. “BRUTE” KRULAK SAID IT BEST WHEN HE WROTE, “… THE UNITED STATES DOES NOT NEED A MARINE CORPS … THE UNITED STATES WANTS A MARINE CORPS.” YOUR ACTIONS, IN IRAQ AND AFGHANISTAN, AND ACROSS THE GLOBE, ARE AT THE CORE OF WHY AMERICA LOVES HER MARINES. 5. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARINES AND SEMPER FIDELIS! JAMES T. CONWAY, GENERAL, U.S. MARINE CORPS, COMMANDANT OF THE MARINE CORPS// | ||
| Court |
 Good night and God Bless America. . . | ||
| Bill0351 |
This is the picture that I tried to post before. This is my Great Uncle Eddie Recka. He was killed on the first day of the battle for Saipan. The lower picture is his name on the Saipan Momorial. It just reminds me that there have been thousands of men who have given their lives for our country and for the Corps. It's a good time to think about all the men who have worn the uniform, and all the men and women who are wearing it now.  CPL Edward Recka USMC Infantry  Plate 13 Column 3 Court of Honor The American Memorial Park, Saipan Bill SGT USMC 0351/0311 (Message edited by bill0351 on November 10, 2008) |
