After the preflight, we’d climbed up on the wing left side and with a crank wound up the old inertial starter. We threw the crank down on the ground, jumped in the cockpit, moved the mixture to full rich, cranked the throttle just over Idle, turned the primer to the top cylinders then pulled the toggle to engage the starter motor. Then hope it would fire up or go through that routine again!
After the start, I’d run up to full power check and reached that point then fluctuated. I thought well, that’s not good but if I down the aircraft meant I wouldn’t fly that day. With that unwise decision, I taxied out & took off for our training area which carried me over the outskirts of Fort Worth. Regulations required an altitude not lower than 500 ft over those areas. I went to about 800 ft and the engine dropped back to idle!! I started rapidly moving both the mixture & the throttle FW and Aft and it caught up momentarily then back to idle which required me to drop the nose & start a downward descent to avoid stalling out.
I looked in all directions and it was city streets and houses. I could do nothing but continue my descent without a clue in or on what I was going to land! I had the old seat parachute but altitude and where the aircraft would hit precluded any use of the chute. I was at about 200-foot altitude when I saw the high tension wires in front of me. I pulled the nose up and cleared the wires but lost my forward airspeed and did the only thing left in that mode; lowered the nose and prepared to make a 3 point stall landing!!
To my complete surprise, I was over the railroad tracks that went from Fort Worth to Dallas. I landed alongside the rails in some very tall weeds and came to a stop almost against a building. Would you believe it was a small beer joint on the outskirts named “Blondies.” As I was landing, I noticed cars pulling over along the street and folks looking up at me. I went inside and called the field trying to tell them where I was. At first, they thought it was a caller pulling a joke.
They later took the aircraft on a flat boy trailer back to the field and found that a restriction in the fuel system had caused the problem. It was complete luck that I ended up there without hitting a structure. I received high marks for making the safe landing since I only had been flying solo for 8 hours.
The other one that really got my attention happened at the foot of the mountains in Vietnam near Cam Ranh Bay Jan 17, 1967while flying out of Nha Trang in my old CH34C 543045. I had auto rotated down alongside the mountain to observe an assault by gunships on a mountain site. Suddenly, I went into a very violent spin which made it impossible to move as I was pasted against the seat by the spinning force. I knew that I had lost tail drive and the only possible emergency procedure was to release torque from the main rotors. This happened when I had applied throttle to flare and stop the autorotation. The throttle was on the collective stick and I managed to rotate it to idle and the spin momentarily stopped that was when I saw I was headed nose down to the trees and ground.
Figured that fire was the most likely thing when you crashed so I turned off the battery switch and hit the Mag switch and threw the cyclic stick full left. Wanted to stop the main blades when we hit so they would not chop off our heads. We took down some small trees and the main blades hit the ground on the left side and wound around the top of the cockpit just inches above my head. I was with my left leg outside the side window and the ground. The Vietnamese captain in the right seat climbed up and out the right side window and me trying to get my leg free. I remember hearing the fuel, “gloop, gloop,” running out from the fuel tanks under the troop compartment floor and praying that a fire didn’t start as I could hear the inverters & electrical components running down.
I finally got free and climbed up through the right side window. There in the middle of all that spilled fuel was that dumb Vietnamese officer firing those finger flares we carried into the air. I grabbed him and pushed him away from the helicopter and asked him if he was trying to get the Viet Cong to rescue us!! He wanted to start walking towards the Nha Trang Air Base. I said go ahead if you know where all the minefields and VC might be located. I was going to stay by the crash and see if something flew over then I would fire some flares.
After about 20 minutes some of the Army Hueys flew over and after some time they finally came down with the door gun trained on us to be sure who we were.
I was a very happy camper when we got back to the Nha Trang base. I had some broken ribs, banged-up left leg and numerous bruises but in one piece! When that violent spin started I was sure that was going to be my last flight and my last day on earth.
Anyway, that is two of several flights in my times that I remember every minute of!!
By Glen T. Hogoboom
The first thing they do to you in Marine Corps Boot Camp is to break you down. You are picking up paper, cigarette butts, and anything that is not attached to the ground. You will do that for 10 to 14 days, for 16 hours a day. They will not allow you to look like a Marine, or pretend you are a Marine, or even to be like those that have been training for months who are still recruits.
It will be pointed out to you that you will never amount to anything, that you are a piece of shit, and that it was a mistake that you were ever born. The only thing that you can rely on is that you will eat 3 times a day. Sleep is unlikely, and just when you achieve it, you will most likely be hit over the head with a flashlight and told to get up.
Among your Platoon are 88 or so other recruits, all scrambling every day just to keep track of their own underwear. Friendships are impossible to start, and harder to keep up. One day you know the other recruits next to you, the next day they may be gone.
Then there is the point where you meet your drill instructors, and it almost seems like they are nice, and they introduce themselves. But then all hell breaks loose, and they become devils, and you have to pick up your footlocker and march 3 miles, all the while they are yelling at you.
So then you are at your home for 13 weeks, your barracks. For the most of that time, that is where you will sleep when sleep is allowed. Everyone has to stand fire watch, one hour per night, so if you go to sleep at 8 PM, and have to stand watch at 3 AM, you get awakened for that hour.
Each Platoon has a “secretary”, usually a recruit who has college experience and is older than the others, and that was me for this Platoon in 1977. The secretary does a lot of the paperwork for the Drill Instructors, along with being harassed multiple times per day.
The only way to address a DI is to be at attention, and first saying “Sergeant Drill Instructor Sir” (then say what your business is) followed by “Sergeant Drill Instructor Sir!” Most of the time, your business was merely that you were reporting as ordered.
There are three phases to Boot Camp, the first is try and kill the recruits and if they don’t die, keep them! The idea that they are looking for a few good men is preposterous. If you have a heartbeat, they will take you. Although you might argue that those of us who survive Boot Camp are a few good men.
During the first stage, there was IQ testing, and I did very well, to the point that I was asked to meet with the Lieutenant for an interview for potential Officer Candidate School. But that was worse for me than if it never happened, since it got my hopes up without ever amounting to anything.
I got it in my mind that someone would summon me, and say, “Sir, this was all a mistake, and you don’t belong here!” But that never happened.
I was a smoker, and I never thought about it before going to Boot Camp, about what its deprivation would mean. The idea was that you would get one cigarette per day. But that rarely happened. The first time the DI’s asked who smoked, only I and a few others admitted to it.
Those who admitted to smoking rose from 5 or so to 60 or more, as time went on. All of the DI’s smoked. But we would get one smoke per day if we were lucky. All day I would wait for the DI to yell, dirty ones to the classroom!
The classroom is merely the front of the barracks, and once summoned if we didn’t get there quick enough, the DI would say hell no, you don’t want it bad enough, just go on back to your bunks. And that was disappointing, to say the least.
During phase one there were several disciplinary actions that took place regularly. One of them was if a recruit did not make his bunk properly, all hell would come down. The DI’s would come out of the woodwork, they would be yelling at the top of their lungs, ordering us all to bring our mattresses to the classroom.
So we would scramble, taking the blanket and sheets off, and dragging it to the front of the barracks, all the while trying to avoid the congestion of traffic. Of course, 88 mattresses would not fit, but that didn’t matter because before we could complete the feat, the DI’s would say “JUST STOP!”
“Take your mattresses back and make your bunks!” Of course, as soon as we accomplished that, they would start all over again, making us drag them up again, and so on.
Then there was the problem of some recruit leaving the combination lock on his foot locker unlocked. That was a holy sin! The DI’s would go wild, get your asses up to the classroom! Now go back and get all of your locks and bring them back! Then they would make all 88 of us lock our locks together, which sounds impossible, but believe me it can be done.
Now, if you were one of the recruits who failed to write down the serial number of your lock like you were ordered to do on the first day, then you had a long day ahead of you, waiting for those that knew which their locks were and the combination to unlock them.
To summarize, the first phase of Boot Camp is pretty much evaluating, testing, harassing, cajoling, and learning that this is pretty much your dissatisfactory life for as long as you can survive it, and then add eternity to that.
In phase two of Boot Camp, the emphasis is on marching, drilling as a unit. The DI’s were brutal, one time one of them marched alongside me and yelled in my ear that I was a bitch. It didn’t help my marching much, but it sure got my attention.
But, everyone got yelled at; it apparently was the choice of weapon, and it worked. After a few weeks we were marching as a unit, and no one dared make a mistake.
Finally, there were 88-foot steps in unison. And we suddenly dared to make a smile as we marched. Sometimes our marching took us in view of recruits who had just arrived, who were picking up paper and cigarette butts just like we were a month earlier.
In phase two there were many classes, like instruction in the history of the Marines, at Iwo Jima and Guadalcanal. We were so tired sometimes, you could hear the clunk as a recruit hit his head on the desk as he passed out.
The desks that we sat at were inscribed by those that came before us, with dates like 1956 or 1967, always followed by the time they had left in Boot Camp, like 20 days and a wake-up. We soon learned that the last day never counted, since all you had to do was wake up and you were done!
And there was so much time spent standing in lines, for the dentist, or the hearing doctor, or the eye doctor. You were not allowed to be a Marine and have a health problem, hence the age old expression hurry up and wait.
By the end of phase two, you started to think there might be an end to this madness, and you started to make your own marks on your desk during a class, like 32 and a wake-up.
Then comes phase three, the hardest of all, along with a chance for me to get out early.
In the third phase of Boot Camp, you go to the rifle range and the infantry training at Camp Pendleton. And the DI’s appear to let up on their infernal behavior.
At the rifle range, the rules change quite a bit, since you can’t really badger a recruit into being safe. If you ever point your rifle in the wrong direction, they write a big white X on your back, and if you ever do it again, they throw you off the range, and you might have to start Boot Camp all over again.
The first week all you do is learn the basics, along with forcing you into a sitting down position that most bodies cannot do. And you sit there for hours, day after day.
The second week you are in pre-qualification. And finally Boot Camp seems like a bit of fun. Your time is split between live fire and working in the pits. In the pits, you move the targets up and down and mark the hit of the shooter.
Also in the pits, when there is a break, private companies would drive up with their food wagons, and we could order hamburgers, hot dogs, and ice cream, without being hounded by the DI’s. The DI’s at this point apparently took vacations, much to our satisfaction.
On pre-qual day I shot as an expert. There was a rumor that on the day of qualification that would we be able to smoke all we wanted. So all of us came loaded with cigarettes.
Unfortunately, it was true, and I smoked so much I was almost sick, and I barely qualified as a marksman, which was the lowest designation, behind Expert and Sharpshooter. Still, one of my DI’s said later that he wouldn’t care if he was shot by a marksman or an expert, it would hurt as much.
Then we went into infantry training and came face to face with Mount MFer.
August 16, 1977, Elvis Presley died, and I was in Boot Camp. A DI asked me if knew who Elvis was, and of course, I said: “Yes Sir!” He told me Elvis had just died. And he asked me how old I was and I said 22, and he asked me when I was born, and I told him, and he said: “Jesus! You are older than me!”
In fact, in my Platoon of 88, there was only one recruit older than me. And for that reason, I probably had a chip on my shoulder. Nevertheless, I was the Platoon secretary, and I knew as soon as the DI’s did, what our schedule would be, sometimes even earlier than them.
While in phase 3 and just starting infantry training, I walked into the DI’s shack to check on the schedule for the next day, and I asked if lights out for the night would be at 2000, and literally, I said “two thousand.” The DI’s laughed like crazy since it would normally be pronounced as 20 hundred hours. One of the DI’s said I can just see Hogoboom writing his mom, saying they keep us up until two thousand here!
Training at Mount MF was beyond belief. We had all heard of it. When we finally got to it, we found it was a desolate piece of land that seemed almost straight up, and the march up it was over 5 miles. There were recruits throwing up, and 50% of them falling behind, including me.
It took the whole day, and when we were finally done with the march, we were exhausted. Exhausted is a mild term, we were ready for the hospital. But we made camp for the night. Our feet were bloody, and we knew the next day would not be any better.
I had to go the bathroom like crazy, and there were some old fashioned outhouses there. With my flashlight in hand, I went in to sit down, but then I saw a tarantula spider sitting there waiting for me. I don’t care much for spiders, and those the size of my foot I care even less for. So I just had to hold it in!
The next morning all of our canteens were empty of water. We had some c-rats to eat, but no liquid. It must have been 110 degrees, and apparently, it was a problem the DI’s had not anticipated. There was supposed to be a water buffalo on site. They stopped training while we waited for water, and four Platoons, over 300 recruits were stranded on Mount MF, in danger of heat exhaustion and water deprivation.
We all laid on our backs, told to not move until the water got there. We must have looked like the street in Atlanta with all the wounded soldiers laid out in ‘Gone With the Wind!’ I was never so thirsty in my life. In fact, even today when I take a drink of water, I remember that thirst.
It was not until maybe 2 PM before we finally got water. The water buffaloes (huge tanks of water) rolled in, and we all cheered. We were told we could fill two canteens each, and then go back in line and fill another two canteens. Some recruits who were at the front of the line shared with those in the back of the line, as they started over.
We got back to the barracks that night. And there were only about 15 days and a wake-up left in Boot Camp.
Now we were back in our barracks in San Diego. With 2 weeks left (and a wake-up), the emphasis was on the classroom, where we had many tests. The DI’s were now rebuilding our spirits, after breaking them down for so many weeks.
I first noticed the change when the DI yelled, dirty ones in the classroom! And then we were outside, standing at attention, passing the garbage lid from one to another, to ash our cigarettes. Meanwhile, DI Staff Sergeant Joe was standing in the balcony overlooking us. When we finished our smokes, Staff Sergeant Joe said smoke another if you want.
So WOW! He actually spoke to us in a normal tone of voice, and had a smile on his face! Some recruits replied, saying “Sir, we don’t have another one.” Then he threw his pack of cigs down to them.
I now had an assistant secretary for the Platoon, his name was Hawkins. And most of the time when our Platoon was at a class, drilling, or physical training, we were held back to do paperwork. Our Senior Drill Instructor relied on me to do most everything, and at one point he and I were going through the list of recruits, determining if they should be promoted to PFC, and what their MOS should be.
Sixteen could be promoted to Private First Class, and he named off the list, pondering each one for promotion, then he got to Hogoboom, and said yes of course. Things were looking up!
Sometimes I would sneak out and make a phone call, usually to my brother Will. Since I was in the reserves, I was to start classes at the University of Wisconsin when I got home. But it looked like I would not be home in time for registration. Then a rumor started going around that some of us would be going home a week early so that we could register for college.
I anxiously awaited each morning, to see if I might be one of those going home early. Alas, I was not, but Hawkins was. I was crushed! I got a hold of Will and set it up so he could register for me.
Meanwhile, I got a letter from my brother Gene, who was stationed in Okinawa and was a Lance Corporal. He said they might be called into action, and I asked Staff Sergeant Joe if he knew anything about it. He said no, but added that is what Marines do.
There were just a few days left, and a wake-up, but I was depressed that Hawk got to go home, and I was worried about Gene. With two days left, we got to go the PX, 2 or 3 at a time for 2 hours. That was pretty exciting, to be alone without the DI’s supervision. And most of us had $500 or more that we had been paid during training.
I bought some cigs and a lighter, unlike many recruits who spent every cent they had. And now there was one day left and a wake-up.
That final full day I got a big surprise, although I knew my parents were coming, I didn’t realize I would get to see them before graduation! Sure enough, the DI’s said my parents were downstairs, and I had 2 hours to meet with them.
To see them in this Boot Camp environment was surreal! I could barely contain my emotions, and of course, I chain smoked. The overwhelming feeling of freedom was hard to handle. And the two hours were over in the blink of an eye, and there I was back in the barracks, and even with less than 12 hours left before graduation, I could not find happiness.
But of course graduation did take place, and I could see my parents in the stands, and then just like that we all threw our covers in the air, and yelled oo-rah! Before I knew it I went from Boot Camp to a fancy restaurant and hotel with my parents, and we ate well and drank, and laughed like the summer had never happened.
At age 22 I probably took the deprivation of freedom harder than the other recruits, where many of them were just 17, and most 18. I had been jealous most of those 105 days of those recruits who actually seemed to enjoy themselves.
And when I got home, I still had a commitment with the Marine Corps to fulfill, but I vowed I would have as little to do with the USMC as possible. And boy did I fail in that vow!
After I got home from Boot Camp it took some time to adjust. I was immediately back in school at the UW, and there were football games, and while the world had stood still while I was gone, it was different for me.
One time when I was at a bar, trying to get a drink, the girl next to me gave me a weird look, and said: “Are you a Moonie or something?” Back then we all had to have the same hair length, less we would suffer the inquisitions of others.
I called Hawk, the assistant secretary, who lived in Indiana and asked him about what happened when he left early. He said Senior DI Staff Sergeant Garrett actually drove him into San Diego, and they went to a bar while waiting for his flight, and they had drinks. I was so jealous!
I had to check in with my reserve unit. I was now a PFC. and I hated doing that. I was in my hometown, and to have that feeling again from Boot Camp, was not pleasant.
Just a week after I got home, I had to attend a drill weekend, and we went up to Camp McCoy, Wisconsin. I was not at all prepared. They had not even given me a field jacket. And we flew in a helicopter in 40-degree temperature, with my legs hanging over the side of the helo, and I about froze to death.
Back at school, just walking between classes, I ran into another Marine, and we knew each other just by our haircuts. He said, “Hey, are you an OCS Candidate?” I said, “Well no, what is that?” I told him I had just completed Boot Camp. He said “Why would you do that when you are in college? You qualify for OCS.”
So I called the recruiting office where I had enlisted. And I asked them why they never told me about OCS. They said I had not told them I was in college. Soon after that, I applied, and I was accepted to Officer Candidate School.
So then, in the summer of 1978, I found myself back in the Marine Corps, in Quantico, VA in Basic Training again! That first night, laying in my bunk, I thought here I am again, and I was mad at myself! My goal was to get out of the Marine Corps, not get more into it!
I survived that training. Some did not. The contract for OCS was that you could quit whenever you wanted. And those that quit usually did it in the middle of the night, they would just get dressed, and walk down to the Sergeant, and say I am done.
In the mornings we would see that some bunks were empty. And many of us were jealous because it took guts to do that. Why would anyone stay at a place like that?
After the first two weeks in Junior OCS, we got leave for the weekend. We would take a bus into Washington DC and get a special rate at the hotels. One night we went down to 14th Street, and there was more to do there than anyone could do in a weekend.
I met a woman at a bar, she was 44 and I was 22. Her husband had died in Viet Nam. Not much was said before we found ourselves in a cab going back to her apartment in Falls Church, VA. The next morning she gave me her phone number and suggested I should call the next weekend. I did not call her, although I liked her, she made the time of my weekend go by too quickly!
I sometimes wonder about her, she would be 83 years old now. But at the time it was a good memory when I got back to base, and most of the other Officer Candidates were buzzing with rumors about me and what happened at the bar on 14th Street, and that was not a bad thing. I was quite happy when that summer of 1978 was over, and I was back home.
But it took more than one summer at OCS, to become an Officer in The Marine Corps.
It was now 1980, and I was due to attend Senior OCS in Quantico. I was a senior in college and was now engaged to be married. Once again that first night I found myself in a bunk, back in Basic Training! And I hated myself for continuing to make decisions that landed me back in Basic Training.
Senior OCS was much more difficult and was designed to weed out candidates. Our barracks was located about 50 feet from an Amtrak railway, and it came flying by every night around 2 AM. The vibration was such that our bunks would actually move across the floor. And I thought this was going to be one long arduous 6 weeks!
But after the first week, I never even heard the Amtrak during the night. I had become used to it. And the training had become redundant; there was nothing new anymore. All I had to do was wait it out, and survive until it was over. After all, there were no records kept of training, other than one had completed the training successfully.
This time when I went on leave, I met with my fiancee in Washington DC. I sent her the money for the flight, and gave her detailed instructions on what hotel to check into, and when I would be there. While we had a great weekend (actually about 30 hours only), it was so sad when it was over. I got in the bus, which did not leave right away, and watched her through the window, sitting on the side of a hill and crying.
By Senior OCS, most of us candidates were already receiving payment during college, like $100 a month, and you could no longer just quit, unless you wanted to immediately be sent to active duty as a PFC or Lance Corporal, depending on your experience. That was plenty of motivation to hang in there and get through it.
And of course I got through that training in the summer of 1980, and then all I had to do was graduate from college to get my commission as a 2nd Lieutenant. But that was not all that easy since in my first two years of college I had done miserably, hovering around 2.0. To graduate in the School of Education, I needed a 2.5.
Shortly after getting home from Senior OCS in 1980, I got married. I had one semester left in school. Using my calculator, I determined exactly what grades I would need to get to 2.5 GPA, and I needed 3.75 out of 4.0. So in all the first classes of that semester, I told every teacher this is what grade I need, and if I am not on track, please let me know.
I ended up with a 3.75 overall for the semester, and reached 2.500 exactly! In December I attended my graduation ceremony wearing the traditional robe and hat. Then I went back home and changed into my blues where Captain Hooper swore me in as a 2nd Lieutenant. It was a great day!
In February of 1981, I was scheduled to attend (TBS), also sometimes called “The Big Shit.” Now instead of having Corporals and Sergeants yelling at us, we had Captains and Majors. And instead of 13 weeks or 6 weeks, TBS was 23 weeks. By the end of TBS, I had attended 48 weeks of Basic Training, in some of the most demanding and rigorous conditions imaginable.
My mom and dad drove Roberta and me to Quantico for TBS, and when we arrived, they had no housing for us, so they put us up in the Officer’s Club. We had no car, which was due to a great miscalculation on my part. But fortunately, there were hundreds of businesses that thrived on new Lieutenants such as me. We walked just two blocks down the street and got a 1979 Mustang, then drove to an appliance store and got a TV, all on credit.
While I was at my first day of training, Roberta hiked 2 miles into town, with our clothes in a backpack and did our laundry; she did not yet know how to drive a car with a stick shift. Later, when we had time I taught her to drive the car, and then she really got busy. She got us on base housing and went and picked out furniture for it, which they delivered compliments of the Marine Corps.
Meanwhile, I was going through the induction of TBS. There were 40 of us each Platoon, and the first time we had a formation, I recognized the guy next to me, and it turned out we had been in Boot Camp together! I knew Lt. Heineman quite well, given that our last names were close in the alphabet, and we had often been next to each other in Boot Camp as well. Without the alphabet, the military would be in shambles!
He said our drill instructor, Staff Sergeant Joe, was also here, having been commissioned as a Warrant Officer. We would see him often, and now he had to salute us! What a turnaround that was! But he had been a very good DI, and we had nothing but respect for him.
We had some very good leadership at TBS. Our company commander was Major Conway. He was very hands on, leading every 10-mile march we had, and being at every occasion. He was especially interested in those of us who were married and attentive to the problems that training would have on a couple. He invited all of us who were married Officers and our wives to his home for dinner and drinks.
One time, when I was having problems qualifying with the pistol, Major Conway took me under his wing, so to speak. I was doing so badly, and I needed to hit bullseyes on all of the ten shots I had left. And he put his arm around my shoulder and said I know you can do it, just relax. And I did hit all ten. And he told me that was the most impressive marksmanship he had ever seen since it was done under such pressure.
In 2006, James T. Conway was nominated by George Bush as the 34th Commandant of the Marine Corps and promoted to 4 Star General. I am very humbled that I served with him, and knew him personally in my brief career.
Like all other training that I went through, TBS ended. Finally! So then I was off to the “real” Marine Corps!
When Marines are not fighting, they train. In essence, they are supposed to be the same whether training or fighting. In reality, it is impossible to maintain that sense of alertness when they all know nothing is going on. In my case, that meant going on to train to become a Supply Officer.
After TBS, I went to Camp Geiger (next to Camp LeJeune) for training. There were around 20 Lieutenants and 5 Warrant Officers in the class. Some of the Lieutenants were “fallen angels.” They had failed to be pilots. Before, and after our trips to the local bars for lunch and beverages, we studied supply, and inventory, and “mechanized allowance lists.” There became a competition to see who could do the best in the tests.
I was far and away the best, at 99.6%, until the last test, when all the Warrant Officers exceeded me, in what was an obvious fix. They had all spent at least 10 years in the field, and they should not have had a worry about me. Nevertheless, I was assigned the best duty location, at Cherry Point, North Carolina.
And there I went, with Roberta, in our new 1980 Nissan Maxima, equipped with a trailer hitch, and a u-haul and everything we owned. The smart folks would just let the Marine Corps handle it, where you just open your doors, and a dozen people come in and pack everything up, and before you know it, everything arrives at your new location. But we were not smart, just cynical, and distrustful.
We did not want to live in base housing, so we bought 1/2 of a duplex for $27,500. It was a home where grass would not grow, and the backyard was a sinkhole. The people in the other half of the duplex were great at first until they got transferred to Japan and they rented it out to a disc jockey (or so it seemed).
Our daughter was born at the Naval Hospital at Cherry Point in 1983, and we were worried that even the sound of a pin dropping would ruin her sleep and ours. But I was deep into my new duties, and could not spend my time with things like grass that would not grow, backyards that sunk, and noisy neighbors.
I was an Officer of Marines!
My best friend in TBS was Tom Downey. He was a Corporal before he was an Officer, and he was as cynical as I was. Now that he was an Officer, he was never lost when having to express an opinion. When some young Lieutenant would say these enlisted guys have to salute us, he would say, but you have to salute them back!
One time I was assigned to show a new 2nd Lt. around the base. We were walking through a parking lot, and a car with a blue Officer’s sticker pulled in and he saluted the car. I told him Officers do not salute cars unless maybe it has a General’s flag on it. He said, “but I’m a 2nd Lt. and all Officers are senior to me.” Then the occupant of the car got out, and made a point of standing at attention and saluting him because he was a Warrant Officer!
At this point, I was firmly implanted in my new job, as the Officer in Charge of MAG-32 ground supply. As a junior Officer, I got all the shitty little jobs. My new boss was Major Owens, and he took care of me, but when he was gone, I was at the mercy of whoever was senior at the air supply side of the unit (until later when I became senior when the Major was not around). Being on the ground side, I and my 80 people, always got the shitty little jobs.
I was a cake escort for the Marine Corps Birthday Ball, for Marine Air Group-32. When we showed up for the rehearsal there were 4 of us, and I was the senior Officer. (Yes, we actually practiced!) So the plan was, as we were stationed at each 4 of the corners of the cake as it was wheeled in, that I would give the commands as to when to start and when to stop. Once stopped and at a position on the stage, well, that was the end of what we had rehearsed. So we were standing at attention, and a Colonel came up to speak.
We were kind of in the way, and the Colonel turned to me (obviously recognizing that I was the one in charge) and said Lt. put them at ease. At that point, I issued a command, previously unknown in the USMC, and probably never used since, “Cake Escorts, on my command, stand at ease”, huh. At which point the four of us snapped to parade rest.
So another time some, when the Major was gone, some Captain assigned me the role of being the drill instructor for a Platoon, for the upcoming Wing Wide inspection. They gave me some Gunny Sergeant to assist me, and I tried as hard as I could, but the two of us sucked! After a few weeks, the Colonel sent down his CWO-3 Warrant Officer to check on me, while I was drilling the troops. And he took me aside and said you are not doing very well.
I was not really in the mood, and I told that Warrant Officer to stick it, he had no right to talk to me that way, I outranked him! And he was pretty surprised that I told him off. He thought he would have his way with me. But I knew I was in trouble, so that night I got a 12 pack of beer, and marched inside my home for hours and hours, giving drill commands, and marching from one side of the room to another, while Roberta was in the living room, wondering if I was OK or just crazy!
The next day I showed up at work, with a hangover, and Major Owens, finally being back, called me to his office. He said Glen, you are being relieved of your duties as Drill Instructor. And we both kind of laughed, and he applauded me for my efforts, but said there are plenty of actual Drill iInstructors available to train a Platoon for the inspection.
I even had two prior DI’s working for me, and they said the mark of a successful DI, is getting kicked off the field! And they said that was usually followed by a promotion in rank. So that is the story of my brief career as a Drill Instructor in the Marine Corps.
I was selected for promotion to the grade of Captain in the summer of 1984 but did not receive the actual promotion until a few months after I left active duty in 1985. I took it as a belated congratulation for my duty as a Drill Instructor, but who knows? It could have been for my outstanding performance as the “Senior Cake Escort” for the Officer’s Marine Corps Birthday Ball.
Tribute to a Veteran – Together We Served Member: Cpl Jim Gasho, U.S. Marine Corps, 1966-1972. If you wish to create a Remembrance Page for a Veteran, please go to https://TogetherWeServed.net
ABOUT TOGETHER WE SERVED
If you or a loved one has served our country as a member of the United States Armed Forces, then you’ve come to the right place.
Together We Served (TWS) is the online community connecting and honoring every American who has worn the uniform of the United States military. This is where you reconnect with old friends and share your service story as a lasting legacy for generations to come.
More Than A Decade & Growing
TWS launched in 2003 with a website specifically for Marine Corps veterans. Since then, we’ve expanded to five websites, welcoming members from the U.S. Navy, Air Force, Army and Coastguard. Our vision: to create a unique place for all service members, run by service members, sharing real-life history IN THEIR OWN WORDS. TWS is detailed, honest, and real: an authentic recounting of history as-it-happens.
Today, TWS has more than 1.4 million members and has reconnected more service men and women than any other website or organization. Reunions happen every day. Some veterans haven’t seen each other in 40 years. Some are healed through the reconnections made here. Still others find old friends they thought lost forever. These miraculous stories are inspirational.
A Larger Purpose
On the surface, TWS is a social networking site. However, there is a much larger purpose, one we hope you’ll participate in. TWS is a living, breathing national archive of the most important events in our nations’ history.
Each story and profile here takes its rightful, permanent place in our collective consciousness. In this new, virtual world, every time you log on, share a photograph, recall an experience, or find a comrade, you are contributing to what will be the most intriguing, comprehensive and expandable military archive available.
Our Roll of Honor is a gift to every family who has lost a loved one in service – a personalized online memorial they can contribute to, preserve, and share for posterity. More than 100,000 profiles of Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, Airmen and Coastguardsmen who died while serving in all major U.S. conflicts since WWII already exist here.
Our work is hardly complete. There are currently just over 21 million veterans; nearly 60% are from the Vietnam, Korean and WWII era. We are in a race against time to capture their stories now, while we still can.
What Is Your Story
If you have served this country, you are already a part of this community. And your friends are waiting for you. Welcome to the most important online presentation of our nations’ military history available.
Welcome to Together We Served.
Brian A. Foster
President and Founder
Together We Served
Read the service reflections of
Sgt Don McKeefery
U.S. Marine Corps
PLEASE DESCRIBE WHO OR WHAT INFLUENCED YOUR DECISION TO JOIN THE MARINE CORPS?
First, the company where my Dad worked closed their doors during my senior year in high school, so I didn’t want to be a further burden on my family with college tuition. And, unfortunately, coming from a small town and thus small school system, our guidance counselors weren’t thebest at providing guidance.
Second, I scored very high on the ASVAB test and all the services were recruiting me (lots of calls and visits). I recall the Navy recruiters coming after me to be in their nuclear programs, but the Marine Corps was talking to me about aviation electronics and that interested me the most.
Third, my brother went into the Corps a year before me. I figured if he could do it, so could I. After boot camp I had a new respect for my brother. As he was going through, and I had decided to join, we never talked about the challenges of boot camp. What an eye-opening experience, starting with getting off the bus and onto the yellow footprints.
Oh, and the Dress Blues uniform is the best!
WHETHER YOU WERE IN THE SERVICE FOR SEVERAL YEARS OR AS A CAREER, PLEASE DESCRIBE THE DIRECTION OR PATH YOU TOOK. WHAT WAS YOUR REASON FOR LEAVING?
At the time I went in, I had 3 goals:
1) Make Sergeant.
2) Never get busted.
3) Don’t go to Okinawa.
I satisfied all 3, though now I regret #3. I made E-5 within 3 years and feel that the lessons I learned from boot camp helped me to
I came close to not accomplishing #2. At one point my roommate had taken a bunch of us out into town to meet with a bunch of college girls who were visiting with his girlfriend and her family. They were in town for about a week, so we spent quite a bit of time with them. They were interested in seeing what our rooms were like so we decided it would be a good idea to sneak them in the back way. Since we lived on the second floor of the barracks, there was quite a long ladder (stairs for the civilian crowd). We thought we had it all covered since the Duty Sgt. sat near the entry at the front of the building. What we hadn’t counted on was an MP on patrol in the area. He apparently saw our actions and brought the Duty Sgt. up to our wing and went door-to-door until they found the room with the girls…our room.
Fortunately, our Sgt. Maj. seemed to have a soft spot for us. Instead of formal charges and a trip to see the “Old Man”, he decided an appropriate punishment would be for us to clean up the squadron area. Man, I’m thinking NJP (office hours) would have been an easier thing to go through. Needless to say, we learned our lesson…and the squadron are was spotless. Oh, and several of us continued to date the girls for years to come.
Regarding my decision to get out of the Marine Corps, I was notified by my monitor a few weeks before I was due to sign my re-enlistment papers that the school I was going to re-enlist for had just cancelled and would not be offered for another year. I had no guarantee it would run the following year so I decided to take my chances in the civilian world. To this day I wonder if that was the right decision. I’ve had a great career, but…
IF YOU PARTICIPATED IN ANY MILITARY OPERATIONS, INCLUDING COMBAT, HUMANITARIAN AND PEACEKEEPING OPERATIONS, PLEASE DESCRIBE THOSE WHICH WERE THE MOST SIGNIFICANT TO YOU AND, IF LIFE-CHANGING, IN WHAT WAY.
I am a Cold War Era Vet. I was proud to have served no matter the time in our history. The Marine Corps makes and needs Marines who are ready at a moment’s notice. I, and my fellow Cold War Marine Veterans stood ready to carry on the traditions of
The closest I got to action was when we went on a heightened state of alert when a Russian submarine and Russian aircraft were spotted off the coast of North Carolina. We, and the Air Force, scrambled some planes to go take a look. We stood down shortly thereafter, but it was exciting while it lasted.
The next most exciting thing happened during a NATO exercise in Denmark. On our last night in country we had moved most of the squadron to a staging base for their flight home. Since I was with the advance party and the return party, I and several others were left at our field location to guard the equipment prior to its removal. A few of the locals had caught wind of the fact we were leaving the next day and thought they would travel out from town to our base.
I was on duty while the others slept, awaiting their turn. A car passed the gate but stopped just beyond. Two guys got out and staggered over to the gate and wanted to come in and party with us. I explained the situation to them and kindly asked them to return to their car and go back to town. The driver insisted they be allowed to come in and continued to move forward.
During this time we were not allowed to have loaded weapons on guard duty, so I was playing through my mind my options, and how, if possible and necessary I was going to get a shell in the shotgun for use.
My first thought was to cycle the pump and scare them, which is precisely what I did, but it only had an impact on the passenger. He ran to the car rather quickly. I also think I smelled an odor as he did so. Unfortunately, the driver was not fazed by this action. So, I asked him to follow the actions of his passenger and kindly return to the car before this escalated and something happened that we both didn’t want.
He once again advanced, and it was at this instant I raised my weapon to let him know I was not going to allow him in or take one more step towards me. Upon seeing the working end of the shotgun he decided his passenger was not so dumb after all. He returned to the vehicle and they turned around and headed for town.
At least that’s what I thought until I saw brake lights about a half mile down the road.
Next I heard a sound of something rustling off to my right (from the direction they would have come back). I shouted out, “Halt, who goes there?” Nothing in response. I woke up the next guard and instructed him to watch the gate while I investigated. As I got nearer, I could see someone stumbling in my direction. Again, “Halt, who goes there?” Again, no answer.
I advanced once more and instructed the person to immediately halt, place their ID on the ground and back up 10 steps and get face down in the dirt. This time they complied. Once I arrived at the ID I picked it up and shined a light on it. It turned out it was one of our officers returning to base after being out in town. False alarm. He and I never spoke of the event again.
OF ALL YOUR DUTY STATIONS OR ASSIGNMENTS, WHICH ONE DO YOU HAVE FONDEST MEMORIES OF AND WHY? WHICH ONE WAS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE?
It’s a toss-up between 29 Palms, CA and Cherry Point, NC, for my fondest.
29 Palms is special because I was stationed there with my brother for a year. He was with 3rd Tank Bn, and I was going through MCCES. We spent a lot of time together when he wasnot out in the field for training maneuvers. I’ll never forget the weekend he and another Marine from 3rd Tanks were working on a tank and were just wrapping up putting “the pack” (engine and transmission) in, and were going to take it for a test run. They invited me to come along for the ride. What an experience it was. They even gave me an opportunity to drive the tank once we were out in the open. I recall them telling me that if I threw the track, I got to put it back on. Needless to say, I drove it with caution, but still put it through some paces.
A fun fact about while we were out testing the tank out was that while on our way out towards Camp Wilson, my brother saw a car driving along the road parallel to us. It turned out to be their XO. My brother and his buddy hopped out of the tank and did everything they could to keep him from coming over to the tank, because if he saw me, they would be in deep trouble. He did come over and was getting close to getting in when all of a sudden he decided he needed to get on his way. Phew! Three Marines were finally able to exhale and start breathing easy again!!
Cherry Point was a great duty station for me. I had a car by then and enjoyed the fact it was only a half hour drive to the Atlantic Ocean. My buddies and I spent countless hours there when we were off duty. I also made a number of life-long friends at Cherry Point. We have stayed in touch all these years and enjoy looking back on our times together when we talk. I’m sure there is some exaggeration in our stories, but not a lot!
FROM YOUR ENTIRE SERVICE, INCLUDING COMBAT, DESCRIBE THE PERSONAL MEMORIES WHICH HAVE IMPACTED YOU MOST?
A joint services op we did at Holloman AFB. We were stationed atop North Oscura Peak. The last day the fly boys put on a show for us. They flew low to the ground across the White Sands Missile Range, then at the last moment went vertical up the faceof the mountain we were atop. As they cleared the top, one seemed to go 90 degrees horizontal just clearing our radar antennas and the others peeled away like a banana. Awesome display!
I also never forget an event I saw take place in our tent. One of the Corporals in our unit decided to mess around with one of the Sergeants who was sleeping (he was on night shift). The Corporal, Sammy, decided to use a feather to tickle the Sergeant’s (Andy) nose. It was all fun and games for Sammy until Andy came up out of the rack with his Ka-Bar on Sammy’s neck. Sammy forgot Andy had served time in Recon and was not one to mess with, especially while he was trying to sleep.
Another exercise we were on took us on a float. I was one of the lucky ones from our squadron who managed to make the trip to Denmark on board a ship, the USS Raleigh (LPD-1). Much of the rest of the squadron traveled via airplane and arrived well after we arrived and set up camp.
The trip was quite the experience, from the rough seas to one of the guys in our unit being seasick the entire way there (and the rough seas didn’t help him one bit). As a consequence of the rough seas we were able to “Shoot the Channel” and got certificates from the Navy for such. Our original travels were to take us over the North of the British Isles.
There were some good days, however, and we were able to spend a fair amount of time above decks. As for the stormy days, well, we managed to find a hatch that contained a small-ish room with nothing in it. It was in this area that we disappeared and played tons of pinochle. Our game was quite polished by the time we arrived after a 2 week journey.
WHAT ACHIEVEMENT(S) ARE YOU MOST PROUD OF FROM YOUR MILITARY CAREER?
I’m most proud of my Rifle Expert qualification badge. I don’t know if it was because I served in the air wing, or if it was normal, however, I only qualified with the rifle twice while I was in the Marine Corps. Once was in boot camp, where I was lucky to shoot Marksman and earn the coveted toilet seat. Not a badge you wanted to wear on your uniform for inspections, but it was what I earned.
Fast forward nearly 3 years and it was time to qualify again. This time I shot and qualified as a Rifle Expert, and quite timely since I needed the score to put me above the line for the cutting score for Sergeant.
To this day I continue to enjoy shooting and have been able to maintain my expert shooting. On a fairly recent hog hunting trip a group of hogs were running by at full speed. I put my scope on my first target and fired, I saw it drop as I was cycling the bolt and acquiring my next target. Target acquired, I fired the next shot and saw it drop, too. Total time to take out two rapidly moving targets…1 second! My hunting buddies commented that they were never going to f*** with me again!
OF ALL THE MEDALS, AWARDS, FORMAL PRESENTATIONS AND QUALIFICATION BADGES YOU RECEIVED, OR ANY OTHER MEMORABILIA, PLEASE DESCRIBE THOSE WHICH ARE THE MOST MEANINGFUL TO YOU AND WHY?
I received a Meritorious Mast for work I had done with organizing and identifying all the manuals which made up the entirety of the documentation for the system I worked on, the AN/TYQ-23 (TAOC). For those who have seen the library of manuals for this system, you’ll understand what an undertaking this was. It was a bookcase that was 5 rows high on a wall that was at least 12 feet long. For those in my unit who used the manuals, my efforts were greatly appreciated. I was honored to have been recognized.
WHICH INDIVIDUAL(S) FROM YOUR TIME IN THE MILITARY STAND OUT AS HAVING THE MOST POSITIVE IMPACT ON YOU AND WHY?
I try to model my actions with my direct reports after his. I have high expectations for them, but none higher than those I have for myself. I spend the time to impart knowledge on why we are taking particular action, and how things are done in order to achieve the maximum operational efficiency. I want them to take over my job some day (so I can move on to my boss’ job!).
PLEASE RECOUNT THE NAMES OF FRIENDS YOU SERVED WITH, AT WHICH LOCATION, AND WHAT YOU REMEMBER MOST ABOUT THEM. INDICATE THOSE YOU ARE ALREADY IN TOUCH WITH AND THOSE YOU WOULD LIKE TO MAKE CONTACT WITH.
The list is long and distinguished. Here are the ones I can recall:
Jim Van Dam – Cherry Point – in touch ever since the I got out
CAN YOU RECOUNT A PARTICULAR INCIDENT FROM YOUR SERVICE WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN FUNNY AT THE TIME, BUT STILL MAKES YOU LAUGH?
In boot camp our light A DI had the darnedest time saying “Shoe Trees” as he was demonstrating how to spit polish our dress shoes. He kept saying, “True She’s”. As you can imagine, we tried our best to not laugh, but after the 3rd or 4th time we all let loose, especially when he finally gave up and said, “these damned things here”.
Our gift for the outburst, some time in the Rose Garden! Well worth it.
WHAT PROFESSION DID YOU FOLLOW AFTER YOUR MILITARY SERVICE AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW? IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY SERVING, WHAT IS YOUR PRESENT OCCUPATIONAL SPECIALTY?
I followed that up with moving into the male urological field, specifically working on equipment to treat enlarged prostates. Eventually my career took me into Program Management, again, in the bio-medical field followed by working for a major hard drive manufacturer. From there I wound along the path until I worked my way up to Chief Operating Officer of our company.
Now I am working on starting my practice for CEO peer-to-peer advisory boards, enabling CEOs to come together and work on issues they are facing, but with the input and advice of other CEOs who may have had similar issues in their careers.
WHAT MILITARY ASSOCIATIONS ARE YOU A MEMBER OF, IF ANY? WHAT SPECIFIC BENEFITS DO YOU DERIVE FROM YOUR MEMBERSHIPS?
I belong to the American Legion. I’ve been a member for many years now, but still have not committed to a single post.
I’ve attended a few Marine Corps League meetings, but have not decided if they are for me.
IN WHAT WAYS HAS SERVING IN THE MILITARY INFLUENCED THE WAY YOU HAVE APPROACHED YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CAREER?
Adapt, Improvise, Overcome. What more is there to say? These 3 words and the discipline that boot camp instills in every Marine are all that are needed to be a success. I carry a challenge coin in my pocket every day, which contains these words, to remind me that everythingis possible.
Honor, Courage, Commitment. These are another 3 very powerful words. All put together, it seems that 6 words are an easy way to live your life and make your way through your career. However, it takes a daily reflection on what these words mean, along with a renewed dedication to upholding the true meaning of each word individually and together in order to really do them justice.
Every day I start my day thinking of how far my career has advanced, and know that it is a direct result of my time in the Marine Corps. I was formed and molded by three very powerful individuals, who had help from many of their colleagues. I do my best every day as a tribute to their efforts.
BASED ON YOUR OWN EXPERIENCES, WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO THOSE WHO HAVE RECENTLY JOINED THE MARINE CORPS?
First, I want to say thank you for your loyalty, dedication, and service. You are carrying on a fine tradition of protecting the freedoms upon which this country was founded.
Second, I always make the time to thank all service members personally when I see them, and I see manyin my travels. I spend a little extra time with my Marine brothers. I don’t think they expect it, but I know they appreciate it.
I also make it a point to attend a Memorial Day ceremony every year. I have met and enjoyed the conversations of many veterans as we celebrate those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedoms. Their stories are priceless, but I fear we are losing the opportunity to capture them with each passing year and the losses of these men and women.
As for advice, my advice is to remain proud of what you do. No other service has the bond or brotherhood we have, and there is a reason for it. We are Marines. Once a Marine, Always a Marine!
IN WHAT WAYS HAS TOGETHERWESERVED.COM HELPED YOU REMEMBER YOUR MILITARY SERVICE AND THE FRIENDS YOU SERVED WITH.
I have been able to connect with many of my lost brothers, folks I thought I would never be able to find again. It has also given me the opportunity to expand my brotherhood and meet new Marine buddies. I find that I participate more and more every day on the forums. There are a lot of interesting Marines, with plenty to say.
I also like the way we can share our memories and the history of our Marine Corps through the various vehicles made available by the site. Reading the Reflections of others, especially those from eras that predate mine, gives more flavor to the history of the Marines. Thanks!
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