My Father was a Marine Veteran of both WWII and Korea as a Corsair pilot in VMA-212. After Korea, he stayed in the Reserves, retiring as a Lt. Colonel. My Uncle was a Marine veteran of WWII, having fought on Iwo Jima and received a battlefield commission due to attrition in his unit. My cousin’s husband served as an officer in the Marines for 4 years in the early 1960’s. I had read Battle Cry by Leon Uris and a lot of other WWII history related to the Marines in WWII and Korea. In 1969, I was a sophomore in college and was part of the first lottery draft with the number 132, if my memory serves me correctly. I was thinking of changing my major in college but not having a clear idea of what that looked like. I had a strong desire of wanting to serve my country, but not by being drafted. Several other students at our local community college I attended were in the local Marine Reserve unit, and I began talking to them about their experiences. My Father was still attached to this unit and getting ready to retire.
I didn’t discuss this with my Dad but told him one day in December 1969 that I was going to join the Reserves. He didn’t try to talk me out of it but didn’t encourage me, either. He was with me for my swearing-in at the local Reserve Unit I & I Company Commander. Three weeks later, on January 15th, I was on a plane to MCRD San Diego from West Palm Beach, Florida. I had a guarantee for Radio School with an MOS of 2533, which was what the Reserve Unit needed. In my mind, I was Danny Forester of Battle Cry, although I was far from a star High School athlete. Neither my Dad nor my Uncle had talked about their war experiences, although my Dad would occasionally tell some funny stories.
The Christy Collection
Military Stories and Articles
Service Reflections of Capt Bill Darrow, U.S. Marine Corps (1963-1983)
Both my parents were in the Navy during WWII. My Mother was one of the first WAVES, and my Dad was a POW at Bataan and an officer in the Navy. I have three brothers who were all in the Navy during the Korean War. During my grade school years, I attended Peekskill Military Academy in NY and was further schooled at home with Calvert School. I graduated from High School in Belvidere, NJ.
At 17, I briefly attended a Business School in Pennsylvania but soon got bored. Then, I decided to join the Navy and carry on the family tradition. There was a long narrow hallway in the post office where the recruiters were located, with the Navy recruiter on my right and the Marine Corps recruiter on my left. I stood in the hall between the two offices. Turning to my right to go into the Navy recruiting office, I noticed that the Navy Chief was wearing a soiled uniform. Next to him was a coffee pot that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the Spanish American War. He was overweight and didn’t seem to be too interested in the young man beginning to enter his office. Just before I walked into that somewhat messy office, I heard someone with a deep, commanding voice speak to someone else he called Corporal. I turned and saw the most chiseled-faced, lean man with a very short neat haircut and wearing a shirt with creases in it that could cut your finger on. I couldn’t help but stare at the very clean office with posters of fighting men, jets, carved Marine Corps logos, and an NCO sword hung neatly on the wall. Another man with fewer stripes on his shirt walked across the office