Commitment

3/27/2012

This is a section to my next book entitled, "On the Gridiron of Life."  It may be interesting to some.
     
     The Marines’ commitment to their Corps and one another is widely known but the depth of that commitment is difficult to imagine unless one experiences it.  This kind of commitment to one’s work and the institution he represents is what leaders seek in their employees. Although there are many examples, I will sight one that is unforgettable in my memory.  It was during the monsoon season in the fall of l969 when 2nd Platoon Company “I”, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines was 25 or so miles west of Da Nang alone in a platoon patrol base at the foothills of what was known as “Charlie Ridge” (Charlie was a nickname for the Viet Cong).  This was a dangerous area particularly for a small platoon of 35-45 Marines to be located as it was approximately three to four miles from the remainder of Company “I”.
    
     As I recall, we were in this general location for seven to 10 days.  We moved every day or two to preclude the Viet Cong from planning an attack on our poorly defended position (poorly defended because we only had some shallow foxholes for cover and there was little concealment from observation).  It never stopped raining during this period, and the only shelter from the misery was our ponchos and shabby hooches rigged out of extra ponchos and canvas shelter halves.  We fought the temptation to relax our security – no one wanted to stand watch nor did we want to run the patrols, establish the ambushes, or man the observation and listening posts that are critical to local security.  Nonetheless, as the platoon commander, it was my responsibility to enforce and frankly demand discipline ensuring that the Marines were awake during their night watches and that the ambushes and observation/listening posts were alert and monitoring their radios.  In this misery, these were truly the days that try men’s souls.

      The paths and trails we were patrolling led to and from the mountain (Charlie Ridge) and were strewn with red mackerel cans, which were clear and present evidence that we were intruding into Charlie’s homestead.  Charlie’s favorite meal was mackerel, rice, and a fermented fish sauce.   Since it was next to impossible to sleep, the danger close environment provided an incentive for the Marines to stay awake.  Corporal punishment for falling asleep was delivered from the squad leaders, platoon sergeant, and right guide.  I never observed it, but I knew it was measured and necessary.  The weather contributed to absolute misery 24/7.

     In combat, troops often lose track of the date and day of the week; the days are all the same except for an occasional voluntary prayer meeting on Sunday.  Even that is hard to organize, because the ambushes and observation/listening posts have returned and troops are trying to get some morning rest (sometimes one might even sleep but the mud and rain made it hard until one reached near exhaustion).  By mid-morning and early afternoon the combat patrols were back out.

     So on this day, none of us realized that the date was November 10, the Marine Corps’ Birthday – a day many of us would rather celebrate than our own true birth date.  In some ways, the date signifies our rebirth and membership in something much greater than our individual selves.  This rebirth created a change in what we believed in and what we thought was good enough in terms of effort and achievement.  It involves a brotherhood many admire but few have the courage to join, because the commitment and risks are just too onerous.

     On this particular day around dusk, one of observation posts (OP) called in to say that, “two ¼ ton vehicles (jeeps) were slowly approaching with night running lights on.”  At first, we concluded that they couldn’t be our vehicles, because it would be reckless and much too dangerous for two vehicles to be at our area of operations (AD) at this hour.  There had been no communications from the Company headquarters element that vehicles would be in our AO.  Could the OP have mis-identified the vehicles - the Viet Cong didn’t have vehicles like ours?

     I quickly selected a fire team (four Marines) to move down to the road to see what was approaching – friend or foe?  Shortly thereafter, the team leader reported back that the vehicles were carrying the Company Gunnery Sergeant (GySgt Maloon) and five Marines, and they had something for us.  GySgt Maloon was a veteran of 35 years in the Corps as I recall.  He had seen action in Korea and Viet Nam.  He was a big man, probably 6 foot 6 inches and 250 pounds and always carried an old Thompson submachine gun.  He was gruff and seemingly unfriendly to new lieutenants until they proved their mettle to his satisfaction.  In fact, you knew when you had earned his respect, because he would refer to you as lieutenant and maybe even sir on occasion.  Before that, he referred to lieutenants as Mr. – in my case, Mr. Benson, which galled me for awhile.  Nonetheless, I grew to admire the Gunny, and later I sought his counsel on tactical decisions and more.

     By the time I moved the platoon to the road, it was essentially dark and time for the ambushes and listening posts to depart our patrol base.  I put security aside when I realized that the Gunny had spent the day going to every company outpost ensuring that every Marine had hot coffee and birthday cake.  We celebrated as the rain poured down on our party.  We laughed and yucked it up the way Marines do in misery.  The party was short lived as the Gunny still had a dangerous trip back to Hill 37, which was the location of the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines headquarters and our company’s rear area that coordinated supplies, administration, casualty reporting and more.

      It was on that November 10 that I truly realized what commitment was all about and what great and unique organization it remains today.