ON MARINE GENERALS...

Los Angeles Times

August 1, 2003

'Marine General' Held After Loaded Gun Found

Uniformed man seeks a weapons permit at the San Bernardino sheriff's
headquarters.

By Hector Becerra, Times Staff Writer

A Hesperia man who walked into a sheriff's station in full Marine dress
uniform to apply for a concealed-weapon permit was arrested Thursday on
suspicion of impersonating a veteran of a foreign war and having a loaded
handgun in his Mercedes-Benz, authorities said.

Lawrence Murphy Jr., 62, was dressed as a decorated two-star U.S. Marine
Corps general when he walked into the San Bernardino County Sheriff's
headquarters, said Sgt. Jack Phillips.

"He was wearing ribbons that identified him as having served in Vietnam,"
Phillips said.

"A person that age, I don't know why they would come in wearing a full
Marine uniform under those circumstances.

"It raised a bunch of red flags."

Murphy never served in the military, Phillips said. With Murphy's
permission, investigators checked his 1992 Mercedes-Benz bearing a
personalized license plate "GEN 2" and found the loaded gun, which led to
the weapon charge.

Investigators serving a search warrant at Murphy's home found an assortment
of U.S. Marine Corps uniforms and military ribbons, Phillips said.

A Marine flag and a prisoner of war flag hung outside his home, Phillips
said.

"Maybe he thought the uniform would help him get the license," Phillips
said.

Military duty, however, has no bearing on getting a license for a concealed
weapon, the sergeant said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5 August

MILINET: A Sea Story

By: SSgt Clyde Queen, USMCR (HD)

==============================

Speaking of people who pass themselves off as Generals, let me tell you something that happened to me. Back in 1955, I was sitting at the counter of a "greasy spoon cafe" which was half of the building that housed the Greyhound bus terminal in Santa Ana, CA. One afternoon, while having a hamburger and cup of coffee (On a Marine Corps buck Sergeant's pay, it was about all I could afford at the time.) A old scraggly looking fellow came in and took a seat about three stools down from me.

He wore an old khaki shirt & pants, and a pair of old brown shoes that were paint splattered. He had about a four day growth of beard, and was badly in need of a haircut. He ordered a cup of coffee, and sat there glancing over at me.

This stranger kept staring at me, and I kept expecting to hear the old song, "I was in the Corps back in 'whenever,' can you spare me a dollar for another glass of wine?"

Finally he spoke. He had a deep southern accent. "Sarge, you from out there in El Toro?" he asked. "Yep, I'm from El Toro," I replied, and kept eating my hamburger, trying to avoid looking at him. "What do you do out at El Toro Sarge?" I replied, "Oh a little bit of everything, and not a hell of a lot of anything." (I kept on eating.) Finally it comes! "I was in the Marine Corps he says. I retired after (32 years ??) in the Corps." (I thought to myself, "Good grief! How in the hell do they always find me?")

He kept taking about the Marine Corps, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I asked him, "Hey Buddy, what was your last duty station when you retired from the Corps?" He said, "My last Duty Station was Cherry Point, North Carolina. But, I was also out at El Toro, and the Commanding General there now, is a good friend of mine."

Figuring I'd trip him up real good, I said, "Oh yeah! That's that big Marine Corps infantry base back there." To which he immediately replied, "Oh no Sarge, there ain't no Infantry at Cherry Point, that's a Marine Corps Air Base!" (I thought to myself, "Well, by God he got that right, maybe he was in the Corps after all.") So, I asked him what his rank was when he retired. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I sort of figured that maybe (just maybe) he was perhaps a Staff Sergeant when he retired.

He replied, "Well Sarge, I was a Major (and I damn near spit my coffee out) and then he went on to say "General." To which I immediately replied, "Now look you old fart, if you were in the Corps, and you retired as a Staff NCO, be proud of it. The Staff NCOs are the backbone of the Corps. Don't try to blow smoke up my ass by telling me that your were a Major General."

He then wanted to know why I thought he was trying to "Blow smoke up my ass," and asked me why I didn't believe he was a MAJGEN. I pointed out his physical appearance, and told him if he was a MAJGEN that he certainly would not be in a "greasy spoon" coffee shop, drinking coffee with a buck Sergeant.

He said, "Well Sergeant, just so you won't think I'm blowing smoke up your ass, I want to show you something. He reached into his wallet, and pulled out a Marine Corps I.D. Card. It had his photo in a Marine Corps uniform with three stars on the collar, and identified him as "R.E. Sanderson, LTGEN USMC Ret. (He explained that they gave him the 3rd star upon retirement.) I just about choked on my coffee, and hamburger, and broke out into a sweat. Stuttering, and trying to find the right thing to say, I started trying to apologize. He said, "No, no, Sarge you don't need to apologize, you said what was on your mind, and I respect that."

About 8 or 9 months later, I was transferred to 12th Marine Corps Reserve and Recruitment District, 100 Harrison Street, San Francisco. I was assigned for a while to the Public Relations Section with Captain T. J. Caulkin, the PIO. That office had a bio on every retired Marine Corps general in the 12th MC District. I went to the file, and I'll be damned! There was an 8 X 10 black & white photo of the General I had been talking to in the "greasy spoon cafe" It was no other than, Maj Gen R. E. Sanderson, USMC Ret. He WAS NOT a phony!

As it turned out, the General loved working around his house and in his garden, and he didn't bother trying to "Look like a General," when he was doing hard work around his house. He had extended an invitation to me and my young wife to visit him someday at his home, but unfortunately, I never got a chance to take him up on it.

Ever since that time, if someone tells me that they are a General, or a Colonel, or whatever, I take them for their word. Someone else will have to prove that they are not who they say they are. One experience of calling a general officer an "Old Fart," and telling him that he looked like a frigging bum, and damn near calling him a liar. . .and not ending up losing my stripes and spending some brig time, is something I never want to experience again..

Semper Fi,

Clyde H. Queen, Sr.
Formerly H&MS 15, MAG 15
Squadron Training NCO
MCAS, El Toro (Santa Ana) CA

DAN DALY PARADE

From the Halls of the Firehouse,
Marines Parade for Dan Daly
The US Marine Corps Band came from Quanitco, Virginia to participate in the Dan Daly Memorial Parade. Photo by D.E. Russell
By Jack Mancusi
http://www.antonnews.com/glencoverecordpilot/2003/08/15/news/
http://www.antonnews.com/glencoverecordpilot/2003/08/15/news/

Dwight Eisenhower once remarked, "What counts is not the size of the dog in the fight - it's the size of the fight in the dog." Truer words could not be spoken of Glen Cove's own Daniel Daly, a two-time Congressional Medal of Honor winner. Measured by stature (5'6" tall and 135 pounds), Daly was not a big man. Measured by his accomplishments, the United States Marine was larger than life. Daly earned his first Medal of Honor in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion when he single-handedly manned a defensive barricade in Peking, China. Attacked by the Chinese throughout the night, Daly repulsed all advances on his position until reinforced.

Daly's second Medal of Honor came in 1915, during the insurrection in Haiti. On patrol with approximately 35 Marines, Daly's group was ambushed and pinned down by more than 400 Cacos rebels. Daly maintained defenses throughout the night and was dangerously close to being overrun. At daybreak, Daly organized and led a three-pronged attack on the rebels. This fierce counter-attack so surprised the Cacos, they scattered in all directions and allowed the beleaguered Marines to reach the safety of their fort.

During its 140 year history, only 3,439 men out of literally millions who served in our armed forces have ever been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor (Mary Walker, a Civil War nurse, is the only female recipient). Of the 3,439 men to be so honored, only 19 won a second Medal of Honor. In 1957, to commemorate Daniel Daly's heroic actions and two Medals of Honor, the Glen Cove Housing Authority on Glen Cove Avenue named their facility after him. Most recently, the Sunrise Detachment of the Marine Corps League from Massapequa approached the City of Glen Cove and suggested that the city have a parade to once again honor Daly in his hometown.
A Parade of Heroes

In commemorating the past, we celebrate the present. Daniel Daly is the most decorated son of Glen Cove, but he is not the city's first hero, and he certainly won't be the last. On Sunday Aug. 10, the City of Glen Cove hosted a parade in honor of all Long Island's heroes, both past and present. The first annual Daniel Daly Parade not only stretched along School Street from the firehouse to Monument Park, the parade stretched the boundaries of time.

There were three Marshals in this year's parade: Vice Admiral Joseph Stewart, Colonel Warren Foersch, and Lt. Commander William Kempner. In addition to the Sunrise Detachment, marchers included the Garden City-based 2nd Battalion 225th Marines, just back from recent service in Iraq. Although the New York weather was a bit warm and humid, the Marines remarked that compared to Iraq, where the temperature approached 130 degrees, they felt like they were in air conditioning. Glen Cove's own Carlos Shimabukuro, a 1994 graduate of Glen Cove High School, was among the 225th Marines. Shimabukuro was stationed in Nasiriyah, the southeastern city in Iraq which was the scene of heavy fighting. Due to national security issues and the sensitive nature of Shimabukuro's duty as a scout/sniper, Carlos was unable to speak on the record of his combat experience. It shall suffice to say that Carlos served his country proudly.

Another representative of Glen Cove High School, Principal Joseph Hinton, a Marine who served in the first Gulf War, was also present and marching. Hinton looked sharp in his dress uniform, still fit with no signs of "button pull" across the front of his shirt.

Many Glen Cove organizations marched in the parade including the VFW James Donahue Post 347, American Legion Post 76, Glen Cove Police Department, Glen Cove Fire Department, Glen Cove Harbor Patrol, and the Ancient Order of Hibernians Division 8. From neighboring towns came the American Legion Post 336, Glenwood Landing; American Legion Howard Van Wagner Post 962, Locust Valley; and the James Brengel Post 456, Sea Cliff.
Post Parade Ceremony

At the end of the parade route at Monument Park there was a short ceremony accompanied by music from the Marine Corps Band, which had made the trip up from Quantico, VA. Colonel Warren Foersch gave a brief summary of Daniel Daly's war record and quizzed the crowd. People in the audience learned that in addition to winning two Medals of Honor, Daly had also won a Navy Cross for heroic action in the Belleau Wood, France during WWI.

Mayor Mary Ann Holzkamp added, "The City of Glen Cove is proud to support our nation's troops. This first-ever Dan Daly parade honoring our city's double Medal of Honor recipient was a fitting tribute to a local Marine hero. I want to thank the Sunrise Detachment Marine Corps League for coordinating this event. We look forward to next year's parade."

Nassau County Executive Tom Suozzi was also on hand. Suozzi remarked that the accomplishments of Dan Daly are a part of Glen Cove's history of which few people are aware. Suozzi was pleased to see that groups from all over Long Island were present to celebrate Daly's great accomplishments in history. He went on to say that by honoring Dan Daly, we were honoring all veterans, whether they be front line combatants or support personnel.
Somber Reminder

As the ceremonies drew to a close and the crowd began to depart, all present came away knowing they had just taken part in something very special. The recounting of Daly's war record and the welcoming home of Marines from Iraq left everyone with a great sense of patriotism, joy and pride in our country. This sense of joy and pride was somewhat tempered by an underlying sense of great sacrifice. The only "float" in the parade was near the end. Trailing behind the marching bands, bagpipers, and impressive young Marine warriors was a small, empty, Vietnam-era "monkey cage." The monkey cage was fashioned from bamboo and was typical of the confines used by the North Vietnamese to imprison U.S. servicemen. This small, unassuming display spoke volumes. Not all of our heroes receive medals. Not all of our heroes come home uninjured. Not all of our heroes come home at all.

Semper Fi!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MOVIES: CHESTY PULLER and LOU DIAMOND...by Dick Gaines

I'll repeat a story I've told many times on a Chesty Puller movie.
It was in the late 70s, maybe early 80s, I was watching an afternoon TV talk show--it was likely The Merv Griffin Show, but it could have been The Mike Douglas Show, both of them had afternoon shows about that time.

The guest star that day was Glenn Ford, who sat down and eventually got around to stating that he had just recently finished filming a movie titled "Chesty"! He elaborated that it was on the life of the famous Marine, LtGen Lewis B. Puller USMC (deceased). They discussed Chesty some more, and....

Ford was irritated that for no apparent reason that he could find, that the movie had abuptly been "shelved," as he put it, and he had no idea when and if it would be released. He was told nothing, and could find out nothing. There was further discussion, and at one point it was suggested that Chesty had been a controversial character, and perhaps someone big didn't want it shown--Ford, as I recall, nodded in agreement.

Through the years, I have expected that eventually the movie "Chesty" would end up being released; quite to the contrary I cannot find anyone who will even admit that the movie was ever a fact and/or that the Glenn Ford appearance on afternoon TV ever occurred. One noted Marine Corps historian suggested to me that I had confused the biography of Puller (the one narrated by John Wayne) with the one I am speaking/writing of here. No way!

In regard to Lou Diamond, and a film about him...

It was during my tour at CPNC (1958-59) in SNCO Leadership School, that we were shown a film on the famed Lou Diamond. It was in B&W, short (maybe 30+ minutes) and, at that time, I took it to be a training-like film--many stars made training films for the Army and Navy during WW II, although this one may have been of later vintage. This one starred Ward Bond as Lou Diamond. You old timers can fill the boots in as to who Ward Bond was--any who have seen the old John Wayne movies will remember the Duke's buddy, who made many movies w/him.

This film centered on old Lou and his time at Guadalcanal. It emphasises that he had gone AWOL from a hospital in Australia, and aboard a merchant ship, made his way back to Guadalcanal to rejoin 1st Marine Division. One scene shows Diamond walking through the bush w/ a trail of empty beer bottles scattered in his wake.

I have never seen the above flik on TV or anywhere else. It is listed, however, in Col Rich Hemenez's book--wish I had it handy (my books are packed up) as I do not recall the title of it.

Never can tell, perhaps someone w/knowledge of these things will see this and have some answers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
R.W. "Dick" Gaines
GySgt USMC (Ret.)
1952-72
Gunny G's GLOBE and ANCHOR Sites & Forums
http://www.angelfire.com/ca/dickg/gunny.html
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FORMER MARINE PILOT MADE IT THROUGH HELL OF IWO JIMA

Former Marine, pilot made it through living hell of Iwo Jima

By DORINE GOSS
The Daily Courier
On Feb. 19, 1945, Lee Dortsch landed with the 5th Marine Division on an Iwo Jima beach that he called “murderous.”

“It was tough. Real, real tough,” he said. “Our landing beaches were dominated by high ground. The Japanese had their heavy artillery up in Mount Suribachi, an inactive volcano, and could fire right down on us as we were going ashore.

Lee Dortsch, World War II Marine and later an Air Force pilot, relaxes at the VA hospital’s Extended Care and Rehabilitation Center.



Courier/Dorine Goss

“Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone got it there that first morning on the beach. And he didn’t even have to be there. He was in my company on Guadalcanal when he got the Medal of Honor and went on bond tours.

“But he got tired of the hoopla,” Dortsch continued, “and he wanted to go back with the guys. He got the Navy Cross posthumously for Iwo Jima.

“It makes me sad to think about all the guys. I lost more than a thousand friends on Iwo Jima. I knew every man in the battalion by name. Our casualties were very high.”

It was on Iwo Jima that Dortsch suffered “quite a few bayonet wounds” during hand-to-hand combat and almost lost his left arm.

When Marines raised the American flag on Mount Suribachi on Feb. 23, he was on a Coast Guard hospital ship.

“We heard all the ships’ whistles going off and someone told me they just raised the flag. The doc took me up to the fantail and held up binoculars so I could see. But I couldn’t see. I couldn’t focus. But I knew they’d raised the flag. All the ships in the fleet were blowing their whistles and shooting off their guns.”

Doctors were treating Dortsch for bayonet wounds in both arms, his shoulder and his chest.

“I could smoke a cigarette and smoke would come out of the holes in my chest,” he said laughing. “The boys would laugh and come around me. They called me ‘Old Vesuvius’. The nurses would get mad and threaten to take away my cigarettes.

“Laughing – that’s all that keeps you going in tough times.”

He went from the ship to an Army hospital in Saipan and finally to a California Navy hospital to recover.

Yet, if he had to do it again, he “would rather go through another Iwo Jima than a Guadalcanal.”

Guadalcanal, he related, “was the most difficult experience of my life. We were without food and medical supplies, and often all out of ammunition.

“At Guadalcanal, most of our casualties were from disease, malaria, malnutrition. A breakdown physically. A breakdown from malnutrition. The Japanese called it Starvation Island. They were in as bad a shape as we were.”

Dortsch, who is 80 and living at the VA Extended Care and Rehabilitation Center in Prescott, joined the Marines when he was 19 and fresh out of high school.

After boot camp, he went through scout sniper school in Samoa and joined “Chesty Puller’s exciting Marine infantry when I heard they were going into combat into Guadalcanal.

“Puller was a Marine’s Marine,” Dortsch said grinning. “He had five Navy Crosses and was the most decorated man in the Marine Corps.”

In the heavy jungles of Guadalcanal, the Marines fought successfully to keep the high ground around an airfield “where we kept our fighter boys who kept the sea lanes open.”

One day the sick, hungry Marines learned that the Air Corps had bombed a Japanese transport convoy bringing Japanese army reinforcements to Guadalcanal.

“Most of the men got ashore with their heavy artillery so we knew we had a fight coming,” Dortsch said. “Those Japanese were dedicated guys. They carried their heavy artillery 50 miles through the jungle to attack our airfield.”

The Marines were spread out so thinly around the airfield that all Dortsch thought about that first night was going home to his family. He wasn’t sure he’d get the chance.

But the Marines prevailed. They killed about 1,000 Japanese troops during the first night of battle, then killed about 2,000 men the following night.

“They were starving,” the Marine said. “They were in as bad a shape as we were.”

In the tropical heat, dead bodies started rotting in about an hour, so the Marines used ammunition to blow holes in the ground and buried the Japanese in mass graves, he said.

“The smell of death is awful,” Dortsch said he remembers.

But the United States had to hold Guadalcanal to protect Australia from the Japanese.

“Guadalcanal was Australia’s life line,” the Marine said.

Dortsch spent five months on the Pacific island – from September 1942 until January 1943. Because the unit suffered so many casualties and so many men were sick, they went to Australia to regroup – get back into physical shape and get some new weapons. The malaria that he caught on Guadalcanal plagued him for three years.

Dortsch went to the Navy hospital in San Diego so doctors could treat a shoulder wound that wouldn’t heal.

After he healed, he went back into the Fleet Marine Force for more training.

“They filled the division as much as they could with combat veterans from all the Marine combats in the Pacific,” he said. “We had them from Tarawa and all of the places where the Marines had fought in the Pacific because they knew that Iwo Jima was going to be a tough nut to crack and they wanted experienced people.”

On the Coast Guard ship just off Iwo Jima, doctors at first thought that they should amputate his left arm, which was infected with gas gangrene.

“An Irish doctor named Murphy saved my left arm from amputation. It was real fine surgery. He had sewed the arteries, cleaned the veins and arteries and the arm came back. It was coal-black when I went to sleep and in the next three months it turned pink again and life came back into it.”

In a California hospital, doctors performed more surgery and Dortsch started a physical therapy regimen.

“I was able to start working my fingers and work my thumb so I could pull things with it. I loved Sally, the physical therapist, because she was such a good, dedicated person and if it hadn’t been for her, I never could have become a fighter pilot.”

Dortsch wanted to stay in the Marine Corps, but because of his disabilities they discharged him in 1946 when the war ended.

He went to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) as a fingerprint analyst.

“That is a great organization,” he said. “When I see bad press, it makes me feel bad. I know what dedicated people are there.”

While he worked for the FBI, Dortsch went to school and earned credits for three years of college.

He needed those college credits to qualify for pilot training. The Marines weren’t looking for pilots, so he joined the Air Force in 1949 and served through 1966.

In Korea, he served as a test pilot for Northrop Aviation and later trained fighter pilots in the Air Training Command. He flew combat missions early in the Vietnam War.

After his military service, Dortsch flew for Apache Airlines and for an aerial photography company.

“I tried to stay with aviation. That’s all I knew to make a living, And I loved it.”
Contact the reporter at dgoss@prescottaz.com
Back To Prescott Newspapers, Inc. Home Page

FRONT AND CENTER UNSUNG HEROES

http://www.hackworth.com/20jun95.html
http://www.hackworth.com/20jun95.html

"I looked up and saw one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen in my life - a U.S. Marine Corps helicopter coming to rescue me," he said, fighting back tears.
-Captain Scott O'Grady USAF

DEFENDING AMERICA
David H. Hackworth
June 20, 1995

FRONT AND CENTER UNSUNG HEROES

Missing last week at the White House event honoring Scott O'Grady were the Marines who snatched the Air Force captain out of the jaws of the Serbian dogs of war. As I watched on CNN, I kept thinking any minute now Bill Clinton would do one of his aw-shucks-folks numbers and say to the American people, "Now ah'd like ya'll to meet Captain O'Grady's heroes," and before you could comb George Stephanopolis' hair, out would march the 57 Marines and Navy corpsmen who made Mission Impossible possible.

An Army sergeant summed up the 8 June rescue: "O'Grady did what he had to do to stay alive. The Marines went in to do what they're trained to do, but the risks they took were life and death high."

It was dark when the rescue force's choppers lifted off the deck of the USS Kearsarge and headed for the Bosnian badlands. Enroute to where O'Grady's location had been fixed, they joined an awesome NATO air armada.

Forty-two warriors, faces camouflaged, weapons locked and loaded and guts churning, sat aboard two choppers flying at treetop level. Here were the cutting edge of America's ultimate 911. Their protection from the thousands of automatic weapons and missiles held by brutal Serbs below was the dime-thin skin of the chopper's belly.

Service to Country and Corps, pride, spirit and iron discipline are what cause these Marines to do what they do. It's certainly not the pay. The lowest ranking Marine's wages on this adventure was less per hour than he could have made serving burgers at McDonalds, and if he had a wife back home, chances are she'd be making it through the month on food stamps.

Escorting the choppers were three Marine Cobra gun ships and four Marine Harrier jet fighters. The Cobra pilots made radio contact with O'Grady, and guided the choppers into a fog covered field, cluttered with trees and stumps. Grunts bolted out of the first chopper and secured the perimeter. As the second chopper landed, O'Grady hightailed it from the edge of the woods and climbed aboard.

With parade ground precision, the Marines withdrew from their security positions, reboarded their chopper and then lifted off. Not a shot had been fired and the flawless ballet of arms was executed in less time than it takes to lace up a pair of boots the morning after payday.

Twenty minutes out of the landing zone the proverbial stuff hit the fan. The Marines had kicked an ant hill hard and the nasties were in a stinging frenzy. Serb missiles corkscrewed through the sky and automatic weapons fire pinged off the choppers' rotary blades, slamming into both troop carriers.

Sgt. Maj. Angel Castro took a slug in the back; being a hard warrior, he didn't flinch, but continued to look after O'Grady and his Marines as they got the hell out of a very hot spot in the Serb sky. Fortunately, Castro's canteen stopped the bullet, and the only vital fluid he lost, so I'm told, was his water supply.

Commander-in-Chief Clinton and much of the press ignored these gallant men, concentrating instead on modest, Will Rogers-likable O'Grady, who, I'm sure, would want you to know their names:

Martin Berndt, Chris Gunther, Angel Castro, Anthony Barber, Gregory Hare, Zbigniew Wierzel, Derek Brown, Nicholas Hall, James Jenkins, Glenn Kirst, Dwayne Koceja, Todd Moulder, Scott Mykleby, Paul Oldenburg, Scott Pfister, William Tarbutton, Ian Walsh, Paul Fortunato, Chris Cottrill, Rashon Bennett, John Brokos, Robert Brooks, Paul Bruce, Michael Coats, Frederick Dasse, C.S. Faircloth, Bart Forry, Andrzej Gawrys, Jackie Hunt, Ernest Johnston, Justin Lewis, Justin Lindsey, Daniel Loven, Ryan Maher, Travis Miller, Robert Mooney, Anthony Parham, Michael Pevear, Terry Runyan, Martin Wetterauer, Christopher White, Shawn Williams, Eric Yoerk, Dong Yoo, James Adams, John Evans, Douglas Flanagan, Glenn Miller, Timothy Oberst, G.E. Coleman, Thomas Hillesheim, Andrew Sagarius, John Sprague, Steven Smith, Aaron Kahler, Michael Ogden, Harold Blot, John Sisson, Ronald Walkerwicz, James Wright, Howard Hiatt.

A patriotic reader of this column in South Florida is sending each of these heroes a choice steak. If you want to join the celebration, here's the address of these special men: 3/8th Marines, 24th MEU, Unit 82219, FPO AE 09502.

and....

http://www.chattanoogan.com/articles/article_40257.asp
http://www.chattanoogan.com/articles/article_40257.asp

Scott O’Grady: Remember The Sacrifices
by Christina Siebold
posted August 27, 2003


Photo by Donnie Beauchamp
Captain Scott O'Grady shares his experiences behind enemy lines in Bosnia with veterans at Celebrate Freedom in Pigeon Forge. Click to enlarge all our photos.
Eight years and hundreds of speeches after returning from behind enemy lines, retired Air Force Captain Scott O’Grady still gets emotional when describing his rescue.

Following a week of evading capture by hostile forces in the Bosnian countryside, Captain O’Grady witnessed something he says he will never forget.

“I looked up and saw one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen in my life - a U.S. Marine Corps helicopter coming to rescue me,” he said, fighting back tears.

Captain O’Grady was in Tennessee last week speaking at the annual Celebrate Freedom event in Pigeon Forge. He relayed his harrowing experience to hundreds of veterans gathered at the Veterans Memorial Museum.

While patrolling NATO’s no-fly zone over Bosnia in June of 1995, Captain O’Grady’s F-16 fighter was hit by a Serbian surface-to-air missile, forcing him to eject five miles above the earth. Upon landing, this 29-year-old pilot spent the next six days evading capture and attempting radio contact with the search and rescue aircraft above him.

Despite painfully slow movements to prevent being captured - rolling over took 30 minutes, a three-foot walk took two hours - and feasting on meals certified by the Scott O’Grady Escape and Evasion diet - ants, grass and leaves - Captain O’Grady said his six days in Bosnia were “the most positive six days of my life.”

During particularly difficult times, he said he thought of the POWs in Vietnam who survived up to seven years in solitary confinement being tortured every day. “I knew that my worst day out there was better than their best day in captivity.”

He credits faith in God and love for his family and country for giving him the will to survive the ordeal. “I didn’t have any revelations out there, and I didn’t learn any new lessons. But it refortified everything I was taught growing up about finding a relationship with God and the things that matter in life.”

And those “things that matter,” he assured the crowd, aren’t material. “Do you think when I was laying under the branches of that tree with the enemy searching three feet from my head that I was thinking about making it home to hug my car? No. I was thinking about getting home to hug my mom.”

Captain O’Grady made it home to hug his mom, and is now living in Texas and studying for his masters degree at Dallas Theological Seminary. While criss-crossing the country speaking about his experience in Bosnia, Captain O’Grady said he has seen the best of American patriotism living in its citizens.

“I have traveled from California to New York and everywhere in between and I’ve found really good, down-to-earth people who love their country and the individuals who are sacrificing for it.”

While he said patriotism has always found a home in the hearts of Americans, love of country has been especially fervent since September 11, 2001. “9-11 was a big reminder to all of us about how precious our freedom is and how we often take for granted what we have until we lose it.”

This former military man said he is amazed by the progress of the Armed Forces in the war on terror. From Afghanistan to Iraq, the last two years have shown the might of the U. S. military. “I’m pretty amazed at the progress we have made. The military, national security agencies and the Homeland Defense Department are doing a good job.”

As a serviceman who has seen combat, Captain O’Grady said those serving in the war on terror need their nation’s full support. Protests during wartime, he said, are a slap in the face to the military. “Protesting when troops are in combat is almost treasonous as far as I’m concerned,” he said. “I know it would have affected me to know that people back home were protesting a war I was still fighting.”

Captain O’Grady insisted that the time for disagreement comes before a war begins. “That’s what our whole process of government is for.”

He said he found it especially disheartening to see war protests turn political. “I saw people championing their own political causes, not caring about the men and women who were overseas, away from their homes and families and ready to lay down their lives for their country. The protestors didn’t care about their sacrifices.”

Although the sacrifices may not come in the overwhelming numbers the nation experienced during Vietnam, Korea or WWII, Captain O’Grady says those fighting today still pay a price. “The conflicts since Vietnam have been limited in scale, and that has been a blessing,” he said. “But there are still sacrifices being made.”

“This isn’t Hollywood and we’re not in the movies. People in the military are real people with real emotions living in the real world. We’re asked to give our lives if necessary and we are willing to do that - to trade our lives for our country’s freedom.”

Captain O'Grady said his years in the military gave him a deep appreciation for his country, and for all those who came before him to secure its continued success. “I have seen poor nations and I have seen wealthy nations,” he told the assembled veterans, “but I have never seen another nation that affords its citizens more rights, freedoms or privileges than the United States of America.”

“We should never fail to appreciate the sacrifices of those that gave us that freedom.”

Photo by Donnie Beauchamp
Captain Scott O'Grady chats with a veteran at a book signing during Celebrate Freedom in Pigeon Forge. Click to enlarge all our photos.

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MILITARY GENERALS: CaptGen/MajGen/SgtMajGen, etc.

NAVAL HISTORICAL CENTER
WASHINGTON NAVY YARD -- 805 KIDDER BREESE SE
WASHINGTON DC 20374-5060

Why is the Colonel Called "Kernal"?
The Origin of the Ranks and Rank Insignia Now Used by the United States Armed Forces

Officers: General
A General usually has overall command of a whole army. His title comes from the Latin word generalis that meant something pertaining to a whole unit of anything rather than just to a part. As a military term General started as an adjective, as in Captain General indicating the Captain who had overall or "general" command of the army.

Before the Sixteenth Century armies were usually formed only when needed for a war or campaign. The king would be the commander but he might appoint a Captain General to command in his name. Later, when the title of Colonel became popular some kings called their commanders Colonel General. The British Army stopped using the Captain part of the title by the Eighteenth Century leaving just General as-the top commander. Some nations still use the Colonel General rank, among them the Soviet Union and East Germany. The king or his Captain General would often be away from the army since they had interests elsewhere so the job of actually running the army fell to the Captain General's assistant--his lieutenant--the Lieutenant General. This was not a permanent rank until the Seventeenth Century. One of the Colonels might be appointed Lieutenant General for a particular campaign or war but he would still command his own regiment. Since he might also be Captain of a company in his regiment, it was possible for one man to serve as Captain, Colonel and General simultaneously.

The army's chief administrative officer was the Sergeant Major General who was also appointed for the particular campaign or war. He would be an experienced soldier, possibly a commoner, who served as chief of staff. For much of his administrative work he dealt with the regimental Sergeant Majors, thus his title meant "overall" or "chief" Sergeant Major. His duties included such things as supply, organization, and forming the army for battle or march. Here again, as with the regimental Sergeant Major, a loud, commanding voice was a key requirement. As the General ranks became fixed during the Seventeenth Century the Sergeant portion fell away leaving the title as Major General. We can see this trend in England where in 1655 Oliver Cromwell, who ruled that nation temporarily as Lord Protector, organized the country into eleven military districts each commanded by a Major General.

The Lieutenant General and Sergeant Major General dealt directly with the Colonels who lead the regiments making up the army. When there got to be too many regiments for the two generals to handle effectively they organized battle groups or brigades, usually composed of three or more regiments. Brigade comes from the Florentine word brigare that in turn came from the Latin briga, both of which referred to fighting or strife. The brigade's commander was the Brigadier, who in some armies later became Brigadier General.

When our Army started in 1775 the Continental Congress commissioned George Washington General and Commander-in-Chief. He and his Major and Brigadier Generals wore various colored ribbons to show their ranks. There were no Lieutenant Generals in that army. In June 1780 General Washington ordered the Major Generals to wear a uniform that included two gold epaulettes with two silver stars on each epaulette. Brigadier Generals were to wear gold epaulettes with one silver star on each. General Washington might have chosen the stars because the generals and admirals of the French forces serving in that war wore stars. Another story has it that he was inspired by the stars in our new flag. The General's stars, then, are the oldest rank insignia still in use by our armed forces.

General Washington was the first to wear three stars when he became the nation's first Lieutenant General in 1798. After he died in 1799 there was not another Lieutenant General until 1855. The three stars appeared again, however, by 1832 as the insignia of the Major General who commanded the Army. In 1855 Congress honored Winfield Scott for his service as commanding general since 1841 and for his accomplishments in 1847 during the war with Mexico by making him a Brevet Lieutenant General. He held that rank until he retired in 1861. The next Lieutenant General was Ulysses S. Grant in 1864. Two years later he became the first General of the Army of the United States and chose four stars as his rank insignia. When Grant became President in 1869 he appointed William T. Sherman General of the Army and Phillip H. Sheridan Lieutenant General. Sherman changed the rank insignia in 1872 to a gold embroidered coat of arms of the United States between two silver stars. After Sherman retired in
1884 there was not supposed to be another General of the Army but in 1888 Congress relented and permitted the President to promote Sheridan who died two months later. Congress allowed another Lieutenant General promotion in 1895, one in 1900, five between 1903 and 1906, two in 1918 during World War I, one in 1929 and then no more until 1939. Our Army has been supplied with Lieutenant Generals since, as has the Marine Corps since 1942 and the Air Force since 1947.

There were no more full Generals after Sheridan died in 1884 until 1917 when Tasker H. Bliss, the Army Chief of Staff, and John J. Pershing, the commander of the U.S. forces in France during World War I, went from Major General to General (emergency) so they could have ranks equal to the allied commanders with whom they dealt. They changed the rank insignia back to four stars. In 1918, Peyton C. March also became a General.

In 1919 Congress honored Pershing for his wartime service by permitting the President to promote him to General of the Armies of the United States, which he held until he retired in 1924. He chose his own insignia, which was four stars. Nobody else has received that rank during his lifetime. In 1976 Congress authorized the President to posthumously appoint George Washington General of the Armies of the United States and specified that he would rank first among all officers, of the Army, past or present.

Congress did not allow the promotion of any more full Generals from 1918 to 1929 when the Major General chosen to be Chief of Staff also became a General so he could have a rank equal to the Chief of Naval Operations. Promotions for other Generals did not come until World War II, with the exception of a permanent promotion to General for Generals Bliss and March in June 1930. The Army still has several Generals, the Marines have had at least one General since 1945 and the Air Force, which started with three in 1947, also has several.

During World War II our Army got so big that even full Generals were not enough so in 1944 Congress created the new rank of General of the Army and specified five stars as its insignia. Congress did not revive the General of the Army rank held by Grant, Sherman and Sheridan. The World War II Generals of the Army were in a separate category from the Civil War Generals of the Army. In December 1944 the President appointed George C. Marshall, Douglas MacArthur, Dwight D. Eisenhower and Henry H. Arnold Generals of the Army. In 1949 Arnold's title became General of the Air Force. Omar N. Bradley got his fifth star in 1950.

As to the question of Pershing being a six-star general, there can be no answer unless Congress creates the General of the Armies rank again and specifies the insignia. Pershing does rank ahead of the Five-star Generals, he comes right after Washington, but he chose his own insignia and he never wore more than four stars.

6 January 1998
HISTORY OF MILITARY RANK....

http://gunnyg.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_gunnyg_archive.html#106220243400199369
http://gunnyg.blogspot.com/2003_08_24_gunnyg_archive.html#106220243400199369
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DO MARINES SURRENDER? ...by Dick Gaines

Do Marines Surrender? A controversial subject.

Now and then this question comes up, but usually Marines seem to have little in the way of facts for their assumptions and their assertions that "Marines Don't Surrender" --but the fact is Marines have surrendered. Nor is there a complete summing up of the subject in any one book under one title; but the info is out there, though somewhat piecemeal. George Smith's book, "Carlson's Raid," devotes an entire chapter, for instance, to the surrender note controversy regarding Carlson's alleged attempted surrender during the Makin Raid of 17-18 August 1942.

Yes, Marines have surrendered. It's just one more reality, for some, in the profession of arms.

Most notably, there have been occurances of surenders for the Marine Corps in the opening days of World War Two's Pacific war at Guam, the Phillipines, Wake Island, and China. And then there was the little-known, for many years, alleged surrender attempt during the Makin Island Raid, already mentioned above.

Later, in Korea, 1950 there was a surrender that occurred at Hell Fire Valley during the Chosin Reservoir operation.

There were also Marine surrenders that occurred even further back through Marine Corps history during the 1700s and civil war times. (See Nofi's Book of Lists.)

Most Marines prefer not to discuss Marine surrenders nor to admit that there have ever been such.

Here is one remark from LtCol Evans F. Carlson himself, famed leader of Carlson's Raiders, as found in Gen. Peatross's book, "Bless 'Em All."

"...While discussing the various aspects of the raid,the only critique of the operation there would ever be Carlson suddenly had paused and, almost self critically and apropos of nothing, interjected: No commander ever expects to fail in an operation, but he should have a plan ready, ...."

Is it dishonorable for a Marine to surrender under extreme conditions when they no longer have the means to resist? It would appear it might well be dishonorable if he were not prepared to consider surrender, under some conditions.

In addition to the above topic, there are various other points of usually accepted Marine Corps history that people are either entirely ignorant of, and/or prefer to disregard or deny entirely. For instance, the phony red NCO/Officer stripe story regarding Chapultapec; Tun Tavern vs. Conestoga Wagon as the birthplace of the Corps, etc. Gen Simmons goes so far as to write that July 11, 1798 is the true birthday of the Corps.

Marine Corps historians, including BGen Edwin Simmons, have brought examples of these things out in their published writings, yet erroneous teachings continue. Why? As I've now come to mention often, I, not too long ago received an e-mail from a Marine colonel (retired), in response to his reading of some of my writings on topics like these, suggesting he didn't give a rat's ass about facts, tradition was all that counted w/him. People just don't want to hear what they don't want to hear.

Well, we all choose our own medicine--myself, I have a lousy memory, and I find it easier to believe and pass on the available facts that are not difficult to remember. Facts don't change, but opinions, stories, and perceptions do.

Semper Fidelis
Dick Gaines
GySgt USMC (Ret.)
1952-72
Gunny G's Marines Sites & Forums
http://www.angelfire.com/ca/dickg/gunny.html
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WHAT ARE CHEVRONS?

Chevrons

Chevron is a French word meaning rafter or roof, which is what a chevron looks like; two straight lines meeting at an angle just as rafters do in a roof. It has been an honourable ordinarie in heraldry since at least the Twelfth Century. Ordinaries are simple straight line forms that seem to have originated in the wood or iron bars used to fasten together or strengthen portions of shields. Other ordinaries include the cross, the diagonal cross or "x," the triangle, the "y," and horizontal, vertical and diagonal lines. The chevron was a basic part of the colorful and complicated science of heraldry. It appeared on the shields and coats-of-arms of knights, barons and kings.

Chevrons were thus easily recognized symbols of honor. That might by why French soldiers started wearing cloth chevrons with the points up on their coat sleeves in 1777 as length of service and good conduct badges. Some British units also used them to show length of service. In 1803 the British began using chevrons with the points down as rank insignia. Sergeants wore three and Corporals two. Perhaps they wore them with the points down to avoid confusion with the earlier length of service chevrons worn with the points up. Some British units also used chevrons of gold lace as officers' rank insignia. British and French soldiers who served in our Revolutionary War wore chevrons as did some American soldiers. In 1782 General George Washington ordered that enlisted men who had served for three years "with bravery, fidelity and good conduct" wear as a badge of honor "a narrow piece of white cloth, of angular form" on the left sleeve of the uniform coat.

In 1817 Sylvanus Thayer, the superintendent of the U.S. Military Academy, West Point, used chevrons to show cadet rank. From there they spread to the rest of the Army and Marine Corps. From 1820 to 1830 Marine Captains wore three chevrons of gold lace with points down on each sleeve above the elbows of their dress uniforms. Lieutenants wore one or two gold lace chevrons depending on whether they were staff or command officers. Marine Noncommissioned Officers started wearing cloth chevrons with the points up as rank insignia in 1836. They had been wearing them for three years as length of service badges. In 1859 they began wearing chevrons in about the same patterns they do today.

Starting in 1820 Army company grade officers and Sergeants wore one chevron with the point up on each arm. The officers' chevrons were of gold or silver lace, depending on the wearer's branch of service. Captains wore their chevrons above the elbow while Lieutenants wore theirs below. Sergeant Majors and Quartermaster Sergeants wore worsted braid chevrons above the elbow while other Sergeants and Senior Musicians wore theirs below. Corporals wore one chevron on the right sleeve above the elbow. By 1833 the Army and Marine company grade officers had stopped wearing chevrons and returned to epaulettes as rank insignia. Sergeants of the Army dragoons then began wearing three chevrons with points down and Corporals two. All other NCOs wore cloth epaulettes to show their rank. From 1847 to 1851 some Army NCOs wore chevrons with the points up on their fatigue uniform jackets but still used cloth epaulettes on their dress uniforms. After 1851 all Army NCOs wore chevrons with points down until 1902 when the Army turned the points up and adopted the patterns used today, two chevrons for Corporals, three for Sergeants and combinations of arcs and other devices beneath the chevrons for higher grades of Sergeants.

The stripes worn by Air Force members date from 1948. The basic design was one of several presented to 150 NCOs at Bolling Air Force Base, Washington D.C., in late 1947 or early 1948. Some 55 percent of the NCOs preferred that design so on March 9, 1948, General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, then the Air Force Vice Chief of Staff, accepted their choice and approved the design. Naturally, it took some time to obtain and distribute the new stripes so it could have been a year or more before all Air Force members got them.

Whoever designed the stripes might have been trying to combine the shoulder patch worn by members of the Army Air Forces during World War II and the insignia used on aircraft. The patch featured wings with a pierced star in the center while the aircraft insignia was a star with two bars. The stripes might be the bars from the aircraft insignia slanted gracefully upward to suggest wings. The silver grey color contrasts with the blue uniform and might suggest clouds against blue sky.

Most enlisted service members wear chevrons or stripes to show their ranks. The exceptions are the lowest three grades of Navy and Coast Guard Seamen and the Army Specialists. The Seamen wear one, two or three diagonal stripes or "hashmarks" on their sleeves. These stripes first appeared on the cuffs of sailors' jumpers in 1886. Petty Officers and Seamen First Class wore three stripes, Seamen Second Class two stripes and Seamen Third Class one stripe. Shortly after World War II the Navy moved the stripes to its Seamen's upper arms, as did the Coast Guard. Army Specialists wear an insignia that combines a spread eagle and, depending on the pay grade, arcs--sometimes called "bird umbrellas." The eagle and arcs are mounted on a patch that suggests inverted chevrons. The badge appeared in 1955 as part of an effort to differentiate between the Army's technical or support specialists who were not NCOs and the NCOs.

NOTE:
Why is the Colonel Called "Kernal"?
The Origin of the Ranks and Rank Insignia Now Used by the United States Armed Forces

by Raymond Oliver, Museum Curator for McClellan Aviation Museum
Published by the Office of History, Sacramento Air Logistics Center, McClellan AFB CA 95652, August 1983 [This hard to find publication is an excellent introduction to origins of naval and military ranks.]


http://www.history.navy.mil/trivia/trivia04.htm


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"BEFORE THE GODDAMNED MARINES GET ALL THE CREDIT"

("Before The Goddamned Marines Get All The Credit")
~~~~~~~~~~

General Patton's Address to the Troops

Part I

The Background Research



Anyone who has ever viewed the motion picture PATTON will never forget the opening. George Campbell Scott, portraying Patton, standing in front of an immensely huge American flag, delivers his version of Patton's "Speech to the Third Army" on June 5th, 1944, the eve of the Allied invasion of France, code-named "Overlord".


Scott's rendition of the speech was highly sanitized so as not to offend too many fainthearted Americans. Luckily, the soldiers of the American Army who fought World War II were not so fainthearted.

After one of my lectures on the subject of General Patton, I spoke with a retired Major-General who was a close friend of Patton and who had been stationed with him in the 1930's in the Cavalry. He explained to me that the movie was a very good portrayal of Patton in that it was the way he wanted his men and the public to see him, as a rugged, colorful commander. There was one exception, however, according to the Major General. In reality, Patton was a much more profane speaker than the movie dared to exhibit.

Patton had a unique ability regarding profanity. During a normal conversation, he could liberally sprinkle four letter words into what he was saying and the listeners would hardly take notice of it. He spoke so easily and used those words in such a way that it just seemed natural for him to talk that way.

He could, when necessary, open up with both barrels and let forth such blue-flamed phrases that they seemed almost eloquent in their delivery. When asked by his nephew about his profanity, Patton remarked, "When I want my men to remember something important, to really make it stick, I give it to them double dirty. It may not sound nice to some bunch of little old ladies at an afternoon tea party, but it helps my soldiers to remember. You can't run an army without profanity; and it has to be eloquent profanity. An army without profanity couldn't fight it's way out of a piss-soaked paper bag."

"As for the types of comments I make", he continued with a wry smile, "Sometimes I just, By God, get carried away with my own eloquence."

When I appeared on a local San Diego television show to discuss my Patton Collection a viewer living in a suburb of San Diego, was very interested for personal reasons. Her husband had been a lieutenant assigned to General Patton's Third Army Headquarters, code named "Lucky Forward" and he had known General Patton quite well.

He had recently died and had left to his wife a box that he had brought home with him from the European Theater of Operations.

The lady invited me to her home to inspect the box to see if there was anything in it that might be useful to me in my search for "collectibles".

Opening the box, I immediately thanked her. Inside was one of only a couple hundred copies printed of the Official United States Third Army After-Action Reports. It is a huge two volume history of the Third Army throughout their 281 days of combat in Europe. She said that she had no use for it and that I could have it. I left with my new treasure.

When I arrived at my office and removed the foot-thick, oversized books from the box, I had an even greater surprise. Under the Reports lay a small stack of original Third Army memos, orders, AND a carbon copy of the original speech that had been typed by some unknown clerk at Lucky Forward and had been widely distributed throughout Third Army.

A few years earlier, I had discovered an almost illegible xerox of a carbon copy of a similar speech. This one came from the Army War College and was donated to their Historical Library Section in 1957.

I decided to do some research on the speech to obtain the best one possible and to make an attempt to locate the identity of the "unknown soldier" who had clandestinely typed and distributed the famous document. I began by looking in my collection of old magazines, newspapers, books that have been written about Patton since his death, and dozens of other books which had references to Patton and his speech.

I discovered some interesting facts. The most interesting probably being that George C. Scott was not the first actor to perform the speech.

In 1951, the New American Mercury Magazine had printed a version of the speech which was almost exactly the same version printed by John O'Donnell in his "Capitol Stuff" column for the New York Daily News on May 31, 1945. According to the editors of the New American Mercury, their copy was obtained from Congressman Joseph Clark Baldwin who had returned from a visit to Patton's Headquarters in Czechoslovakia.

After publication, the magazine received such a large reader response asking for reprints of the speech that the editors decided to go one step further.

They hired a "famous" actor to make an "unexpurgated" recording of the Patton speech. This recording was to be made available to veterans of Third Army and anyone else who would like to have one. The term "famous" was the only reference made by the editors about the actor who recorded the speech. In a later column they explained, "We hired an excellent actor whose voice, on records, is almost indistinguishable from Patton's, and with RCA's best equipment we made two recordings; one just as Patton delivered it, with all the pungent language of a cavalryman, and in the other we toned down a few of the more offensive words. Our plan was to offer our readers, at cost, either recording."

Unfortunately, a few years ago, their was a fire in the editorial offices of the magazine which destroyed almost all of their old records. The name of the actor was lost in that accident.

Only one master recording of the speech was made. The magazine Editors, not wanting to offend either Mrs. Patton or her family, asked for her sanction of the project. The Editors explained the situation thusly, "While we had only the master recordings, we submitted them to our friend, Mrs. Patton, and asked her to approve our plan. It was not a commercial venture and no profits were involved. We just wanted to preserve what to us seems a worthwhile bit of memorabilia of the Second World War. Our attorneys advised us that legally we did not need Mrs. Patton's approval, but we wanted it."

"Mrs. Patton considered the matter graciously and thoroughly, and gave us a disappointing decision. She took the position that this speeches was made by the General only to the men who were going to fight and die with him; it was, therefore, not a speech for the public or for posterity."

"We think Mrs. Patton is wrong; we think that what is great and worth preserving about General Patton was expressed in that invasion speech. The fact that he employed four letter words was proper; four letter words are the language of war; without them wars would be quite impossible."

When Mrs. Patton's approval was not forthcoming, the entire project was then scrapped, and the master recordings were destroyed.

Patton always knew exactly what he wanted to say to his soldiers and he never needed notes. He always spoke to his troops extemporaneously. As a general rule of thumb, it is safe to say that Patton usually told his men some of his basic thoughts and concepts regarding his ideas of war and tactics. Instead of the empty, generalized rhetoric of no substance often used by Eisenhower, Patton spoke to his men in simple, down to earth language that they understood. He told them truthful lessons he had learned that would keep them alive.


As he traveled throughout battle areas, he always took the time to speak to individual soldiers, squads, platoons, companies, regiments, divisions or whatever size group could be collected. About the only difference in the context of these talks was that the smaller the unit, the more "tactical" the talk would be. Often he would just give his men some sound, common sense advice that they could follow in order to keep from being killed or maimed.

The speech which follows is a third person narrative. From innumerable sources; magazine articles, newspaper clippings, motion picture biographies and newsreels, and books, I have put together the most complete version possible that encompasses all of the material that is available to date.

Part II

The Speech

Somewhere in England

June 5th, 1944

The big camp buzzed with a tension. For hundreds of eager rookies, newly arrived from the states, it was a great day in their lives. This day marked their first taste of the "real thing". Now they were not merely puppets in brown uniforms. They were not going through the motions of soldiering with three thousand miles of ocean between them and English soil. They were actually in the heart of England itself. They were waiting for the arrival of that legendary figure, Lieutenant General George S. Patton, Jr. Old "Blood and Guts" himself, about whom many a colorful chapter would be written for the school boys of tomorrow. Patton of the brisk, purposeful stride. Patton of the harsh, compelling voice, the lurid vocabulary, the grim and indomitable spirit that carried him and his Army to glory in Africa and Sicily. They called him "America's Fightingest General". He was no desk commando. He was the man who was sent for when the going got rough and a fighter was needed. He was the most hated and feared American of all on the part of the German Army.

Patton was coming and the stage was being set. He would address a move which might have a far reaching effect on the global war that, at the moment, was a TOP-SECRET in the files in Washington, D.C.

The men saw the camp turn out "en masse" for the first time and in full uniform, too. Today their marching was not lackadaisical. It was serious and the men felt the difference. From the lieutenants in charge of the companies on down in rank they felt the difference.

In long columns they marched down the hill from the barracks. They counted cadence while marching. They turned off to the left, up the rise and so on down into the roped off field where the General was to speak. Gold braid and stripes were everywhere. Soon, company by company, the hillside was a solid mass of brown. It was a beautiful fresh English morning. The tall trees lined the road and swayed gently in the breeze. Across the field, a British farmer calmly tilled his soil. High upon a nearby hill a group of British soldiers huddled together, waiting for the coming of the General. Military Police were everywhere wearing their white leggings, belts, and helmets. They were brisk and grim. The twittering of the birds in the trees could be heard above the dull murmur of the crowd and soft, white clouds floated lazily overhead as the men settled themselves and lit cigarettes.

On the special platform near the speakers stand, Colonels and Majors were a dime a dozen. Behind the platform stood General Patton's "Guard of Honor"; all specially chosen men. At their right was a band playing rousing marches while the crowd waited and on the platform a nervous sergeant repeatedly tested the loudspeaker. The moment grew near and the necks began to crane to view the tiny winding road that led to Stourport-on-Severn. A captain stepped to the microphone. "When the General arrives," he said sonorously, "the band will play the Generals March and you will all stand at attention."

By now the rumor had gotten around that Lieutenant General Simpson, Commanding General of the Fourth Army, was to be with General Patton. The men stirred expectantly. Two of the big boys in one day!

At last, the long black car, shining resplendently in the bright sun, roared up the road, preceded by a jeep full of Military Police. A dead hush fell over the hillside. There he was! Impeccably dressed. With knee high, brown, gleaming boots, shiny helmet, and his Colt .45 Peacemaker swinging in its holster on his right side.

Patton strode down the incline and then straight to the stiff backed "Guard of Honor". He looked them up and down. He peered intently into their faces and surveyed their backs. He moved through the ranks of the statuesque band like an avenging wraith and, apparently satisfied, mounted the platform with Lieutenant General Simpson and Major General Cook, the Corps Commander, at his side.

Major General Cook then introduced Lieutenant General Simpson, whose Army was still in America, preparing for their part in the war.

"We are here", said General Simpson, "to listen to the words of a great man. A man who will lead you all into whatever you may face with heroism, ability, and foresight. A man who has proven himself amid shot and shell. My greatest hope is that some day soon, I will have my own Army fighting with his, side by side."

General Patton arose and strode swiftly to the microphone. The men snapped to their feet and stood silently. Patton surveyed the sea of brown with a grim look. "Be seated", he said. The words were not a request, but a command. The General's voice rose high and clear.

"Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. When you, here, everyone of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. Americans love a winner. Americans will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an American."

The General paused and looked over the crowd. "You are not all going to die," he said slowly. "Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood. Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. Americans pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen."

"All through your Army careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken shit drilling". That, like everything else in this Army, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every soldier. I don't give a fuck for a man who's not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive. If you're not alert, sometime, a German son-of-an-asshole-bitch is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of shit!" The men roared in agreement.

Patton's grim expression did not change. "There are four hundred neatly marked graves somewhere in Sicily", he roared into the microphone, "All because one man went to sleep on the job". He paused and the men grew silent. "But they are German graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before they did". The General clutched the microphone tightly, his jaw out-thrust, and he continued, "An Army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fucking!"

The men slapped their legs and rolled in glee. This was Patton as the men had imagined him to be, and in rare form, too. He hadn't let them down. He was all that he was cracked up to be, and more. He had IT!

"We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world", Patton bellowed. He lowered his head and shook it pensively. Suddenly he snapped erect, faced the men belligerently and thundered, "Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do". The men clapped and howled delightedly. There would be many a barracks tale about the "Old Man's" choice phrases. They would become part and parcel of Third Army's history and they would become the bible of their slang.

"My men don't surrender", Patton continued, "I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That's not just bull shit either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the lieutenant in Libya, who, with a Luger against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the Kraut with his helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another German before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a bullet through a lung. There was a real man!"

Patton stopped and the crowd waited. He continued more quietly, "All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Army plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every truck driver suddenly decided that he didn't like the whine of those shells overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, "Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands". But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like? No, Goddamnit, Americans don't think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Quartermaster is needed to bring up food and clothes because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man on K.P. has a job to do, even the one who heats our water to keep us from getting the 'G.I. Shits'."

Patton paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Army. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of a telegraph pole in the midst of a furious fire fight in Tunisia. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, "Fixing the wire, Sir". I asked, "Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?" He answered, "Yes Sir, but the Goddamned wire has to be fixed". I asked, "Don't those planes strafing the road bother you?" And he answered, "No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!" Now, there was a real man. A real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds. And you should have seen those trucks on the rode to Tunisia. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old American guts. Many of those men drove for over forty consecutive hours. These men weren't combat men, but they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable."

The General paused and stared challengingly over the silent ocean of men. One could have heard a pin drop anywhere on that vast hillside. The only sound was the stirring of the breeze in the leaves of the bordering trees and the busy chirping of the birds in the branches of the trees at the General's left.

"Don't forget," Patton barked, "you men don't know that I'm here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Army. I'm not even supposed to be here in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the Goddamned Germans. Some day I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the Goddamned Third Army again and that son-of-a-fucking-bitch Patton'."

"We want to get the hell over there", Patton continued, "The quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing Japs and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Marines get all of the credit."

The men roared approval and cheered delightedly. This statement had real significance behind it. Much more than met the eye and the men instinctively sensed the fact. They knew that they themselves were going to play a very great part in the making of world history. They were being told as much right now. Deep sincerity and seriousness lay behind the General's colorful words. The men knew and understood it. They loved the way he put it, too, as only he could.

Patton continued quietly, "Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin and Tokyo. And when we get to Berlin", he yelled, "I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-bitch Hitler. Just like I'd shoot a snake!"

"When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a German will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Germans that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun cocksuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket. War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt off your face and realize that instead of dirt it's the blood and guts of what once was your best friend beside you, you'll know what to do!"

"I don't want to get any messages saying, "I am holding my position." We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the Germans do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like shit through a tin horn!"

"From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more Germans we will kill. The more Germans we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that."

The General paused. His eagle like eyes swept over the hillside. He said with pride, "There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great World War II, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, "Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana." No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, "Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named Georgie Patton!"

Return to Headquarters
~~~~~
Note:
For Other Writings On Patton...
SEE ALSO: Memories Of George C. Scott, Sgt USMCR

~~~~~~~~~~
This is...
Gunny G's...
GLOBE and ANCHOR
Marines Sites & Forums
By R.W. "Dick" Gaines
GySgt USMC (Ret.)
1952-72
Semper Fidelis
~~~~~~~~~~

A DEADLY DAY FOR CHARLIE COMPANY

A Deadly Day For Charlie Company
By Rich Connell and Robert J. Lopez, Times Staff Writers
(2003-08-26) The convoy rumbled north, through the heart of the Iraqi city of Nasiriyah. It was the fourth day of the war, and the men of Charlie Company had orders to capture the Saddam Canal Bridge on the city's northern edge.

The Marines were taking heavy fire. Then there was an ear-splitting blast. A rocket-propelled grenade ripped open one of the amphibious assault vehicles, lifting it off the ground.

A thick, dark cloud filled the vehicle's interior. Some of the Marines donned gas masks, fearing a chemical attack. Screams pierced the smoke:

We got a man down! We got a man down!

The Marines' light armor had been pierced, and with it any illusion that this would be easy. They would take the bridge, but at a cost. Eighteen men from a single company were killed that day and 15 wounded, making it the deadliest battle of the war for U.S. forces.

Public attention, briefly riveted on the fighting in Nasiriyah, has since moved elsewhere. The struggle to rebuild Iraq and contain mounting guerrilla violence now occupies center stage. But the Marines of Charlie Company, now back home, are not ready to put that Sunday in March behind them.

They want to know why commanders sent them into an urban firefight without tanks, without protective plating for their vehicles and with only half the troops planned for the mission.

They want to know why an Air Force fighter strafed their positions as they struggled to hold the bridge, killing at least one Marine and possibly as many as six.

Five months later, the U.S. Central Command is still investigating the "friendly fire" episode. The Marine Corps has conducted its own review of the battle but said it will not release its findings until the other investigation is finished.

The Times reconstructed the battle from interviews with 11 Marines who fought that day. Their accounts paint a gory and chaotic picture of ground combat that contrasts with the many images of U.S. forces using precision bombs and long-distance weaponry against an enemy that quickly abandoned the fight.

In Nasiriyah, Iraqis stood their ground and threw all they could muster at the leading edge of the American forces. By day's end, the price of controlling the road to Baghdad had become gruesomely clear to both sides.

Charlie Company had reached Nasiriyah after pushing up 85 miles from Kuwait. Another Marine unit had seized a bridge leading into the city over the Euphrates River.

Charlie Company's mission on March 23 was to take a second bridge three miles north. Controlling both spans was crucial to moving a massive Marine Expeditionary Force to Baghdad.

Had things gone as planned, the 200 Marines in their lightly armored vehicles would have avoided the densely populated heart of Nasiriyah, a city of 500,000. They were supposed to take a roundabout route to the north bridge, swinging east of the city behind a dozen M1-A1 Abrams tanks and a second Marine unit, Bravo Company.

But Bravo Company's vehicles sank several feet deep in mud flats east of Nasiriyah. Its 200 men could not help take the bridge.

The tanks were also out of the fight, diverted on a rescue mission. The Army's 507th Maintenance Company had taken a wrong turn that morning and been ambushed near the city. Eleven soldiers were killed and seven captured, including Pfc. Jessica Lynch.

The Marines' tanks rushed to retrieve survivors, burning their fuel in the process. When they returned, they were sent to the rear to refuel just as Charlie Company was preparing to push north.

"Where the hell are the tanks going?" Cpl. Randy Glass recalled thinking. "Why the hell aren't the tanks in front of us?"

Despite the lack of armor and the stranding of Bravo's men, Charlie Company was ordered to take the north bridge and to get there by the most direct route -- a three-mile stretch of highway lined by buildings and alleyways. Some intelligence reports called it "Ambush Alley."

Lt. Col. Rick Grabowski, the battalion commander, said that going ahead made sense at the time. Though concerned about Ambush Alley, commanders did not anticipate a tough fight for the bridge, he said: "None of us really knew what was on the northern side of the city."

And time was of the essence. If they waited for the tanks to return or for troop reinforcements, the Marines risked fighting for the bridge in darkness, Grabowski said.

There was another factor driving the Marines forward that day. It reflected a state of mind as much as the state of the battlefield. "Keep moving" was the motto of Charlie Company's battle regiment.

"Once we were in the city and we made contact," Grabowski said, "there wasn't going to be any backing down."

When he got the order to move into the city, Sgt. William Schaefer thought he'd heard wrong.

"Say again," he called into his radio.

Schaefer was a commander at the head of Charlie Company's 11 amphibious assault vehicles.

The men inside were from the beach towns of Southern California, the hamlets of upstate New York and many places in between. One planned to enroll at Rutgers University in New Jersey when he got home. Another wanted to be a Reno cop. Some were immigrants. Others were from proud military families.

They were part of the 1st Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment and had shipped out in January from their base at Camp Lejeune, N.C.

Their tub-shaped assault vehicles, called "tracks," are a 30-year-old design made for taking and holding beachheads. They are 26 feet long, carry up to 20 Marines each, and are armed with .50-caliber machine guns and grenade launchers.

Their reinforced-aluminum skin is vulnerable to artillery and rocket-propelled grenades, or RPGs -- unlike the heavy armor on tanks. Thick steel plating can be attached to the tracks, but none was available to outfit Charlie Company's vehicles when they reached the war zone, the Marines said.

"Eight Ball, Oscar Mike," Schaefer barked into the radio, and with that signal the company was on the move.

The tracks crossed the Euphrates on the bridge captured earlier and moved single file up Ambush Alley. It was a little before noon. On both sides, a dense warren of mud-colored buildings pressed up against the road.

At first, the Iraqis seemed to welcome the Marines. A few waved white flags. Then, in a breath, the convoy was under attack from all directions. Iraqis were firing from rooftops, from around corners, from machine-gun nests hidden in side streets.

"We saw women shoot at us with RPGs.... We saw children shoot at us," recalled the company commander, Capt. Daniel J. Wittnam. "We never saw one person in uniform."

Returning the fire, Schaefer alternated between his machine gun and grenade launcher, working a foot pedal that spun his turret right, then left.

Schaefer, 25, of Columbia, S.C., said the Marines tried to distinguish between Iraqi fighters and noncombatants. "But at that point, it was hard."

The enemy, the Marines learned later, was a combination of Iraqi army soldiers, Fedayeen Saddam militiamen and Baath Party loyalists.

One man knelt and aimed an RPG at Schaefer's track. A burst of .50-caliber fire cut off the top half of the Iraqi's body.

"Pieces of people were all over the street," said Lance Cpl. Edward Castleberry, 21, who was at the wheel of Schaefer's vehicle.

Near the rear of the convoy, Sgt. Michael E. Bitz, 31, of Ventura was driving a track crowded with more than 20 Marines. Bitz and his crew had picked up extra men when the company's 12th track broke down outside town. Men were crammed on bench seats amid boxes of ammunition. Several were riding atop the vehicle.

In the middle of the column, Marines on another track shouted for more firepower to answer the torrent of incoming rounds. Lance Cpl. Eric Killeen, 22, a weightlifter from Florida's Gulf Coast, popped out of the hatch with his 15-pound squad automatic weapon, a machine gun that can spray 1,000 rounds per minute.

Killeen poured fire down side streets, into doorways, at second-story windows.

"My adrenaline was pumping so high," Killeen said. "Every emotion you can imagine was running through your body."

Castleberry, a Seattle snowboarder who'd joined the Marines the day after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, steered the lead vehicle with one hand and fired his M-16 rifle with the other.

"I figured one more gun couldn't hurt," he said.

The convoy pushed north, the tracks pausing and pivoting at times to allow gunners a better view. They were almost through the gantlet of Ambush Alley. Their objective, the Saddam Canal Bridge, was a few hundred yards away.

Inside Bitz's overcrowded track, it was dark and noisy. The air reeked of diesel fumes. Marines were on top of one another. Some stood on the shoulders of their comrades, firing M-16s from a hatch near the rear.

Glass, a 20-year-old from Pennsylvania who had joined the Marines hoping to see combat, was sharing a menthol cigarette with Sgt. Jose Torres when an explosion lifted the 28-ton vehicle into the air. "Immediately, I went deaf," Glass recalled.

An RPG had punctured the track's aluminum body -- and with it the Marines' faith in their technological edge. Their tubs were not meant for this kind of fight -- especially without the bolt-on armor plating.

"My eyes! My eyes!" shouted Torres, temporarily blinded.

"Glass is dead!" someone screamed in the chaos.

Glass wasn't dead, but his left leg was a bleeding mass.

Up top, the explosion had torched rucksacks tied to the track, turning them into balls of fire.

Bitz drove the burning vehicle forward. This was no place to stop.

"Keep it tight! Keep it tight!" Schaefer shouted into the radio, not wanting any stragglers left behind.

The tracks finally crossed the Saddam Canal Bridge, a nondescript concrete span over an irrigation channel. Though it seemed an eternity, the trip had taken only a few minutes. On each side were swampy irrigation ditches and brush. Beyond was open flatland. The road was raised, and Charlie Company was an easy target.

The tracks fanned out over a quarter-mile-wide area. Marines in charcoal-lined chemical suits and Kevlar flak vests poured out of the vehicles and sought cover on both sides of the road.

They had taken the bridge. Holding it was another matter. Small-arms fire exploded from the fields to the east and west and from the city to the rear.

Marines scrambled out of Bitz's burning track. A release on the rear loading ramp didn't work, so the men piled out through a small hatch, climbing over the wounded.

Schaefer helped carry out Glass, whose left leg had been tied with a tourniquet.

Bitz was carrying injured Marines to cover when a shell exploded, spraying him with shrapnel. Blood streamed from his face and back as he continued hauling the wounded to safety.

"He was acting like nothing was wrong," Schaefer said.

A plume of black smoke rose from Bitz's track. Mortar shells landed on each side. The Iraqis quickly adjusted their aim and slammed the vehicle.

Burning ammunition began punching out the track's sides.

Cpl. William Bachmann, 22, a New Jersey skateboarder, was wedging his lanky frame into a nearby depression when he saw a flash of light from the vehicle. A large-caliber round flew past him. "If I was standing up," he said, "I would have been hit."

Cpl. Randal Rosacker of San Diego set up his machine gun, providing cover for other Marines. His is a military family; his father is chief of boat on a Navy submarine. Rosacker, 21, was cut down by an Iraqi artillery round or mortar shell, said Wittnam, the company commander. He was one of the first Marines to die that day.

The company's 15-man mortar squad set up a row of launchers on the east side of the road.

The squad had no time to dig foxholes. The Marines worked three launchers furiously, knocking out Iraqi mortar positions across the canal. They fired so many rounds so quickly that their mortar tubes were glowing, almost translucent. "They were pretty much melting their tubes," said Castleberry.

Outnumbered by the Iraqis' mortar positions, the squad was a prime target. Incoming shells were landing closer and closer. Finally, the Iraqi mortars found their mark. Nine members of the squad would die before the battle was over.

Second Lt. Frederick Pokorney Jr., a 6-foot-7-inch former basketball player, tried to call in artillery strikes on the Iraqis. A 31-year-old father from Nevada, he was the company's forward artillery observer. He had trouble getting through on his field radio and moved to higher ground for better reception.

An RPG hit him in the chest, fatally wounding him.

As the casualties mounted, Wittnam wanted helicopters to evacuate the wounded. But there was "no way in hell" they could land, he said. "It was too hot."

Navy Corpsman Luis Fonseca, 22, was giving morphine to Glass and another wounded Marine in one of the tracks. With a black marker, he scrawled "1327" on Glass' head, indicating the time the painkiller was administered.

The medic ran up and down the road looking for wounded when he saw Wittnam. "We're starting to win this battle," Fonseca recalled the captain saying.

Fonseca wasn't convinced. "I know there's a bullet with my name on it," he recalled thinking. "I'm gonna do my job until I get hit."

Machine gunners needed more ammunition. Sgt. Brendon C. Reiss, 23, a squad leader, and Cpl. Kemaphoom Chanawongse, 22, a Thai immigrant from Connecticut, ran to get more ammo boxes from one of the vehicles.

An artillery round exploded, killing Chanawongse and fatally wounding Reiss.

Around 1:30 p.m., Schaefer decided to evacuate the wounded, even though it meant going back through Ambush Alley. All 11 tracks had made it across the bridge. Schaefer lined up six of them in a column to head south.

"I was willing to take a chance because we had guys bleeding to death," he said. "I was tired of seeing people getting killed."

Bachmann and Lance Cpl. Donald Cline, 21, a former surfer raised in La Crescenta, were firing from behind a mound of earth. Word came that volunteers were needed to load the wounded onto the vehicles.

"I'm going to help," Cline said, running toward the tracks spread out north of the bridge. It was the last time Bachmann saw his friend alive.

The Marines heard the plane before they saw it. The Air Force A-10 Thunderbolt, known as the Warthog, flies ground-support missions, using its heavy gun.

Cpl. Jared Martin, 29, a former high school wrestler from Phoenix, was outside Schaefer's track when he heard the growl of the jet fighter's twin engines. Its 30-millimeter cannon, which can shoot 3,900 rounds per minute, whipped up dense clouds of sand.

"He was low," Martin said. "He was coming right toward us. The next thing I know I'm feeling a lot of heat in my back."

Blood streamed from his right knee and left hand. A piece of shrapnel lodged below his eye. "My fingers, they were pretty much dangling," Martin said.

Lance Cpl. David Fribley, 26, of Florida, was just steps from the cover of Schaefer's vehicle when rounds from the A-10 tore into his chest. "I wore what was inside of his body on my gear for a couple of days," Martin said.

To ward off the friendly fire, the Marines shot flares, which streaked the sky with green smoke.

The Marines said the A-10 made several strafing runs before it broke away.

Schaefer hoisted a U.S. flag on his turret. He hoped the Warthog pilot would see it and hold his fire. He also wanted the tracks behind to be able to keep him in sight. "Watch for the flag," he radioed to the convoy of six vehicles heading south with the wounded.

As the column started back toward Ambush Alley, one of the tracks exploded. Inside another track, Marines heard bullets bouncing off the aluminum skin. Glass, who had already been in one track that broke down, turned to Cpl. Mike Meade, whose leg was also injured.

"This track stalls and we're getting out," Glass said. "It's a death trap." A minute later, the vehicle stopped. Glass and Meade struggled out.

Fonseca, the medic, heard the whistle of incoming shells and shoved a sergeant on top of Glass and another injured Marine. Then he piled on top to give added protection. Three RPGs flew by and exploded about 100 feet away.

"I need to save these boys," he recalled thinking. "I need to take them back home."

Glass saw an A-10 fire on one of the tracks. It's unclear whether it was the same jet that had flown over earlier. Two of the aircraft appeared to be operating in the area, Marines said.

"The A-10 came down hard and lit the track up," Glass said. "There's no mistake about it."

Torres was lying nearby when he saw the jet bearing down on him. "It was slow motion," he said. "I turned at the last moment to avoid a direct hit."

Still, the Warthog's rounds tore through his left side. "When he pulls the trigger," Martin said of the pilot, "it's just a wall of blood."

Grabowski, the battalion commander, said that as many as six Marines may have been killed by A-10 fire. Wittnam believes it was one.

Schaefer's convoy, now down to five vehicles, was crossing the bridge. In front, a track that normally carried the mortar squad had several Marines inside. As the track came off the bridge, an Iraqi shell dropped down the left-side cargo hatch, ripping the vehicle in half.

"A hand and arm bounced across the front of my vehicle," said Schaefer. The remaining vehicles raced around the burning track.

The rear of one track was crushed by an Iraqi shell, killing the wounded Bitz. The driver kept going.

The four surviving tracks made it to Ambush Alley. They were met by gunfire from all sides.

Bullets ripped through Schaefer's transmission fluid tank, and Castleberry felt the steering wheel freeze. "Hold on!" he shouted over the intercom as the track careened toward a light pole.

Castleberry gunned the 525-horsepower diesel engine, hoping to knock down the pole. But the track slammed to a halt, swinging to the left toward a two-story concrete house.

An RPG blew away the track's front hatch, six inches above Castleberry's head. Stunned, his face and hair singed, he jumped into the street. Schaefer radioed to the three surviving tracks: "Don't stop. Keep going."

Inside the disabled track, a dozen Marines grabbed ammunition containers and the wounded and headed for the house.

Schaefer and two other Marines, one injured, were pinned down outside the track. "Then all hell broke out," Schaeffer said. "They just started coming out of nowhere, hundreds of them."

Iraqis were charging the Marines. Schaefer aimed his M-16 and quickly used up two 29-round clips as he killed some of the attackers and forced others to take cover.

"When you're scared," he said, "you pull your finger pretty fast."

Two of the other Marines, meanwhile, scaled an 8-foot wall and went into the house. An Iraqi man and woman ran out the back door.

The Marines hoisted the wounded over the wall and put them inside. The windows of the house were hidden by piles of sandbags and sacks of flour. In one room were pictures of Saddam Hussein and a man who looked like Jesus.

Out on the street, Schaefer and the two other Marines were holding off the advancing Iraqis.

Then the driver and a crewman from the track that had been ripped in half at the bridge appeared in the street. One was blinded. The other was limping.

"We're laying cover fire for them," Schaefer said, "and they hobbled inside."

Schaefer was on his last magazine clip. This is it, he recalled thinking: They're going to overrun me.

Then he heard the roar of a track driven by Cpl. Michael Brown. He had disregarded Schaefer's instructions to continue and had turned around. Scooping up the three Marines, Brown took off in a rain of enemy fire.

"He saved my life," Schaefer said.

About seven Marines took up positions on the roof of the house. Martin, his wounds patched up, spotted two men peeking around a corner with an RPG. He fired and they fell.

Martin looked at his watch. It was about 3 p.m. "We have about two hours before the sun goes down," he thought. "Then we're gonna be real screwed."

The man who lived in the house burst through the back door yelling. He entered the room where the wounded were being guarded, Castleberry said, and was shot dead.

A lance corporal with the only operable radio called other units at the south end of the city for help. But the battery was low, and he couldn't tell whether the message was getting through.

With Iraqis now 20 yards from the building, the Marines on the roof were going through hundreds of rounds. Castleberry had fired so many grenades from his M-16 that the plastic hand grip on his launcher was melting.

Two Iraqis sped by on a motorcycle, the passenger firing an AK-47. On a second pass, one Marine hit the driver, spilling the bike. As the gunman tried to escape on the motorcycle, Castleberry unleashed another grenade. He saw a flash and the man's body blew apart.

The ammunition was running low. Castleberry and another Marine dashed to the disabled track, grabbing antitank missiles and crates of bullets as they dodged enemy rounds.

On the roof, Martin and other Marines were trying to use shards of broken glass to reflect sunlight and get the attention of U.S. Cobra helicopter gunships overhead.

Below, Iraqi fighters were trying to reach the abandoned track, with its load of weapons and ammunition. "We're hitting them," Martin recalled, "watching them drop."

He remembers a strange sensation. "Your body and brain ain't working like a normal person's would. Some people will snap. Some people will go off the edge. Everyone reacts differently," Martin said. "I was having fun."

Marines at the south bridge had picked up the radioed pleas for help and organized a rescue party.

The first vehicle to arrive was a Humvee carrying a grizzled gunnery sergeant from another company. He was firing a pump-action shotgun out the passenger window as Marines on the roof sprayed cover fire.

"What do you need?" he shouted.

Water and radio batteries, the Marines answered.

"I'll be back," the sergeant said.

An M1-A1 tank arrived soon after and took away the wounded. The gunnery sergeant returned with Humvees to rescue the remaining Marines.

As the vehicles unleashed heavy fire in several directions, forcing the Iraqi fighters to take cover, the sergeant stepped onto the street and lit a cigarette.

"God, I hate this ... place," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Part of Charlie Company was still pinned down at the north bridge.

Lance Cpl. Killeen, the Florida weightlifter, and his platoon were in the swamp near the span. He could hear enemy soldiers nearby.

"I thought they were going to sandwich us," Killeen said. "I figured my life was all over."

It was nearing 4 p.m. and the sun was getting low.

The ground rumbled and Killeen climbed toward the bridge. If Iraqi tanks were coming, then the company was almost certainly lost, he recalled thinking.

As the tanks neared the canal, he saw they were American. These were the tanks that had spent their fuel retrieving members of the Army maintenance company that had been ambushed. Refueling had taken longer than expected because the pumps malfunctioned; it had to done by hand.

When they learned that Charlie Company was taking a pounding, the tank crews cut short the refueling and rushed back to Nasiriyah.

Now they were firing their 120-millimeter guns at Iraqi positions.

"It was the best feeling in the world," Killeen recalled.

As the Marines prepare for a memorial service today at Camp Lejeune, many are trying to recover from wounds both mental and physical.

Glass, recuperating in his hometown of Bethlehem, Pa., has had 11 surgeries to remove shrapnel, dead muscle and metal pins from his leg, wounded by an Iraqi RPG. His fibula has been removed and he's had several skin grafts. He'll be on crutches at least two more months.

Martin had eight chunks of shrapnel from the A-10 removed from his hands and legs on the battlefield. Two additional pieces were removed from his arm in June on a Navy ship returning him to North Carolina. He's awaiting plastic surgery to remove another piece below his right eye.

Torres, who was also hit by the A-10, walks with the help of crutches as he recovers from shrapnel wounds to his right leg and left side. He was recently released from the Bethesda naval hospital in Maryland and is working to regain movement in his left foot.

"I'm still here," he said. "That's all I thank God for."

Some of the Charlie Company Marines prefer not to talk about what happened that day. Others break down as they recall how the men around them fell. Castleberry still pictures the faces of the youngest Iraqi fighters. Some looked to be 12 years old.

"It was kind of sad," he said. "You see these kids who don't know anything getting shot to pieces because they're trying to shoot at you."

Others talk about waking up in the night, the battle for the bridge playing over and over in their heads.

"We all have nightmares every night. We're in some combat scenario and it's always the same guys getting killed," Schaefer said. "Your memory's just like a damn camera. Especially when you're alone."

THE MEN WHO DIED

On March 23, the fourth day of the Iraq war, 18 Marines died fighting to take a bridge in Nasiriyah. Nine served in a mortar squad that came under intense Iraqi bombardment.

Sgt. Michael E. Bitz, 31, of Ventura drove an amphibious assault vehicle, or track. He was wounded helping injured Marines and was killed by an Iraqi shell.

Lance Cpl. Thomas A. Blair, 24, of Broken Arrow, Okla., was part of an air-defense team. He disappeared in the fighting and was later confirmed as killed in action.

Lance Cpl. Brian R. Buesing, 20, of Cedar Key, Fla., was in the mortar squad. His grandfather served in the same squad in the Korean War and won a Silver Star.

Pfc. Tamario D. Burkett, 21, of Buffalo, N.Y., was a poet, an artist and the oldest of seven children. He was with the mortar squad.

Cpl. Kemaphoom A. Chanawongse, 22, of Waterford, Conn., a Thai immigrant, was a crew commander. He was hit by artillery fire while trying to retrieve ammunition.

Lance Cpl. Donald J. Cline Jr., 21, of Sparks, Nev., was a rifleman. He said he was going to help wounded Marines and was not seen again. He was later confirmed dead.

Lance Cpl. David K. Fribley, 26, of Fort Myers, Fla., joined the service after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. He was killed by friendly fire from an Air Force A-10 fighter.

Cpl. Jose A. Garibay, 21, of Costa Mesa, a Mexican immigrant, was part of the mortar squad. A shell destroyed a vehicle evacuating him and other wounded Marines.

Pvt. Jonathan L. Gifford, 30, of Decatur, Ill., an outdoorsman, was a member of the mortar squad.

Cpl. Jorge A. Gonzalez, 20, of El Monte wanted to become a police officer. He was with the mortar squad.

Pvt. Nolen R. Hutchings, 19, of Boiling Springs, S.C., enlisted in the Marines after high school. He was with the mortar squad.

Staff Sgt. Phillip A. Jordan, 42, of Enfield, Conn., had served 15 years in the Marines. He was with the mortar squad.

2nd Lt. Frederick E. Pokorney Jr., 31, of Tonopah, Nev., was a forward artillery observer. He died trying to call in artillery strikes on Iraqi positions.

Lance Cpl. Patrick R. Nixon, 21, of Gallatin, Tenn., came from a family whose members had served in every major conflict since World War I. He was with the mortar squad.

Sgt. Brendon C. Reiss, 23, of Casper, Wyo., was a squad leader who had recently reenlisted. He was running to get more ammunition when he was hit.

Cpl. Randal K. Rosacker, 21, of San Diego was a machine gunner who was providing cover fire after the Marines crossed the bridge. He was one of the first Americans killed.

Lance Cpl. Thomas J. Slocum, 22, of Thornton, Colo., was in the hatch of a vehicle taking wounded Marines to the rear when he was hit.

Lance Cpl. Michael J. Williams, 31, of Phoenix gave up a flooring business to join the Marines. He was with the mortar squad.

Copyright (c) 2003 Los Angeles Times

Distributed by Los Angeles Times Syndicate

© Copyright 2003, Los Angeles Times
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