I join the Marines

Platoon 250, Marine Corps Recruit Depot, 1942

(As I remember)

War had been declared on December 8, 1941. I was 20 years old and had been on my way to becoming a farmer. I had been driving tractors and doing other farm work for neighbors to earn money.
At this time my Dad was doing very well. We were farming a lot of land and I was a big help to him. He was more than generous to me. I was working hard and enjoying life.

I was just right to join the service and go to war. The word was that it would only last a few months
But I didn’t consider that very much. I felt it was my duty to go and to stay as long as necessary.
I had hauled hay with a fine young man in August of 1940 whose name was Biggs. He was the nephew of Mrs. Slater for whom I had worked a lot and really liked and respected. He had planned on joining the U.S. Marines soon and we talked about them a lot. I remember him saying, “When you are hauling hay next summer, I will be guarding the U.S. Embassy in Shanghai, China.” He was going to join the Marines and see the world. By February of 1942 he had been captured on Wake Island and was a prisoner of the Japanese. I had been studying the various arms of the military services and at this time a lot of the action was involving the Marine Corps. I wanted to fight and help win the war. I decided on the Marines!

I talked to my parents about my future plans. They were concerned but they were proud that I was going to do my duty. They were very aware that the Marines were going to be very active and that I was very probably going where the action was the heaviest.
Dad took me to Oklahoma City where I went to the Recruiting Office and volunteered. I can’t remember if I took my physical that day or not. They said to go home, get my affairs in order and they would mail me a notice as to when I should report.
We went back home; I could tell that my Dad was very proud of me and I was very proud, too.
I had a good time for a few days; I was a hero, of course. I got my notice to report and did so on bout February 14,1942.

When I reported in, there was a good-sized group, probably 20, ready as I was. We were sworn in and I was very proud to swear to “defend my country against all enemies, domestic and foreign”.
There was an older fellow in the group who had been in the army and he was put in charge. I think his name was Benson. We were transported to the Santa Fe Depot.

My life made a change that night that would affect me for the next four year. I would have very little privacy for a long time. We were on the Santa Fe (was it the Chief?). None of us got any sleep. There was a poker game and a craps game. I didn’t have much money and certainly none to waste. I think it took us about three days to get out there. We ate in the diner car. I think it may have been my first train ride. My memories were of the boundless plains and the desert, but I especially remember going through the Royal Gorge of the Colorado River. It was so narrow. I looked up so far to the rim. Years later I went there and looked down at the train tracks. Then I remember that we actually went through Old Mexico for a while before we got into California. There was some Tequila brought aboard. I had a taste of it and I didn't like it one bit.

We got into San Diego in the night some time in the middle of the night and were taken to a barracks where I guess we slept a little.

WOW!

At about 3:30 all everything broke loose. We heard someone yelling and screaming at us to “hit the deck”. We hadn’t heard that expression before but it didn’t take long for us to get the meaning. We were to arise and begin the day! This was only the first of many new expressions we were to learn. Many of them were too descriptive for me to write here, but all were important!

The first thing we did was to stand by our double-decker bunks and bring forth every article of personal gear and turn it over to our new bosses. This meant our watches, pocketknives, pens and pencils, cameras, toilet articles. They would be sent to our homes. From now on the United States Marine Corps would furnish our every need.
You can’t imagine how abrasive and disagreeable that noise was when we had only had an hour or two of sleep.
We were taken by some tables where we picked up some dungarees that were the size we told them we were. Then we were taken out in the darkness where we were told to “fall in”. Since we had had a little advance info from Benson, we knew this meant to line up in ranks. When they got us into some semblance of three lines, they started us running toward the mess hall. We had no idea and I was a little curious about what we would have to eat. We had creamed chipped beef on toast. It was really good tasting to me, much like the sausage and gravy we get nowadays. Some of the guys really hated it. It was a staple Marine Corps breakfast. Lucky I liked it!

We did not get a free minute for the next week or so. The first thing after breakfast we went to the barbershop to get our “GI haircut”. They just about took it all. It took about 15 seconds to get a haircut. There was considerable horseplay here, but our new bosses did all the laughing. If we so much as opened our mouths we were given a dressing down.
After the haircuts we were taken to the base hospital and given shots for about every thing in the world. Some of the needles were large! Of course all these things took time. This was not important at all to our bosses who delighted in running us from place to place where we learned to wait. “Hurry up and wait” is a doctrine of the Marine Corps.
We didn’t get this done before noon. We ran to “chow” again. I don’t remember what we had to eat but it was okay, although it looked like it was prepared in hurry and no effort at all was made to make it look appetizing.

After noon we were made to run to a commissary to draw uniforms. The first item was a “sea bag” This was a heavy canvas bag that would be our trunk and suitcase for the rest of the war. The new uniforms consisted of one set of “winter service green” blouse and one trousers to match. Then came four khaki shirts and three or four sets of “skivvies”(Underwear; white T-shirts and boxer shorts, several pairs of socks. We were fitted for shoes (boondocker work shoes). Then we were issued a barracks cap, an overseas cap and a pith helmet. I really liked the pith helmet. Next we were given a galvanized bucket with a scrub brush and some soap. With it came toilet articles like a safety razor and blades, a toothbrush and toothpaste. We were given little green Gideon Bibles if we wanted them. I took one and carried it all through the war.
We looked in vain for the beautiful red, white and blue uniforms. Only the “sea school” and band people drew them at this time. You could buy a set for liberty if you wanted. It would be 3 months before we got liberty! The buckets were a very used item, along with the scrub brush. We had tables and running water and we washed our clothing with the scrub brush and soap.
Then we began to learn how to march. This was called “close order drill”. We learned to step out with the left foot first, to “forward march”, to right face, left face, about face, to the rear march, right oblique march, left oblique march”. “Stand at Attention, at ease, parade rest.
Then we were put work picking up any trash on the areas of the depot where we lived.
We were marched to our new home. This was one of several buildings with about 30 double decker bunks, and assigned our personal bunk.

In the days following we were given our “dog tags”. We were given two of these, a small oval stainless tag with our names and serial numbers on them. I was 360597, USMCR, (“R” for reserve). I had joined for the duration of the war or hostilities.
We were given a lecture about the rifles we were going to be issued. They were rifles, not guns. A Marine’s rifle was his “piece” and every Marine was first a rifleman.
We were run to the base armory. (We were run everywhere) where we were issued a very greasy, sloppy rifle. They were Springfield model 1903 30 caliber rifles complete with slings. They were covered with “cosmoline” which was an anti-rust grease. We had to get this stuff off. I don’t remember what we used. My rifle number was 2867 6708 9432. It was bolt action, held about four rounds in the magazine in which you pushed the cartridges down until they locked, and one in the chamber.
I really liked that rifle and have always felt that we would have been better if they had
Now we began to know our torturers. We had a captain, a lieutenant, neither of which we ever saw), a platoon sergeant and two corporals for our platoon. It was number 250. I never knew when the numbers started, but I don’t think there had been 249 in 1942 before February. The Sergeant and Corporals were called Drill Instructors or “DI’s”.
All these people were to be saluted every where we saw them except indoors. We were taught the correct way to salute.
We were in “boot camp”. We would be here two months, then go to the rifle range for a month, then we would join a regular outfit.
The “DI’s” would some time work in pairs and sometimes singly. No one could have stood being with us all the time.
We were inspected several times a day for cleanliness and neatness, and to be sure we still had everything we had been issued. Once when we were about to fall out for inspection in Winter Service “A” woolen greens, I couldn’t find my trousers. I looked and looked. Finally some one told me that a guy had my pants. I made him let me have a look at them. Sure enough, inside was stenciled my name. I then showed him his pants above his bunk. The dummy thought we had been issued two pairs. He had appropriated mine because he didn’t want to be short.
Another time the corporal was asking me some questions and I though it was funny because they were simple. He didn’t appreciate my humor so he told me to report with my rifle to the sergeant’s office. I took it down. The sergeant didn’t say anything to me except “Up and over shoulders till I tell you to quit”. I was in good shape and did about fifty of them then he told me to start doing pushups. I was grinning a little, because what they thought would be trouble for me wasn’t much. The pushups began to wipe the grin off. But then the corporal came and the sergeant asked what my offence had been. When told, he said, “Private, do 10 more pushups and get back to your unit”. As I was leaving I heard the sergeant say, “Kinda cocky, like me; he’ll be a good one”! The corporal never had a good word for me after that, but it made me feel pretty good.
We really worked very hard during the next few weeks and got pretty good. We would drill for hours, clean our clothes, be inspected, and practice the “manual of arms” with our rifles, all the time being yelled at.
Then we were loaded up in 6 X 6 trucks with our seabags and our rifles. We were going to La Jolla to the rifle range. Things really got better now. We got to eat off china plates. The food was much better prepared and the “DI’s” stated making a team of us. Now we got “sunnyside eggs” instead of scrambled. At the rifle range we would fire real bullets at targets for qualification. We would use the rifle sling and fire from sitting, kneeling, standing and prone positions from distances of 100 to 600 yards. They really wanted to make excellent marksmen out of us and we got expert training. You would shoot from all these positions. When you fired, there was someone in the target area that would mark the place where you hit it and you could correct for the next shot. If you missed the target completely, he would wave a white flag. They called it “Maggies Drawers”. If you were real good, you might qualify for “Expert Rifleman”. This gave you a nice medal and would add $5.00 to your $21.00 monthly paycheck. Next was “Sharpshooter”. This gave you a medal and $3.00 a month. If you qualified, you got a “Marksman bar” but no extra money. I was a good shot with the rifle and got my Sharpshooter medal, but we also qualified with the “45 Caliber Colt” pistol. I thought I had really failed but made sharpshooter with it. I sure hoped I never had to depend on it in combat. I also wounded my right hand firing it.
By this time around Southern California most everyone had come up with “cat fever”, something like a bad cold. It showed up when we were running, which we still did most of the time. Our corporals began to show a little compassion for us now. Life was getting better!
One of the nicest things was “mail call”. I got mail almost every day at this time. We were beginning to get to use “V-Mail” that didn’t require postage for us to send. We were beginning to look forward to going back to Camp Elliot and being through bootcamp.
We loaded on trucks and drove back to the place we had begun to think of as home. The San Diego Marine Base is a beautiful Spanish type structure. When we got back, we were allowed to go the Post Exchange and to the “slopchute” (beer hall). And we got paid. In cash! Big Money!
On a Saturday morning, many other platoons like us, probably 10 more along with us went out on the beautiful parade ground. The Band played the Sea School in their blues. Everyone marched. Then some majors and colonels inspected us. We were awarded certificates and our rifle range medals. We went to lunch and then back to our barracks where we would find out our permanent assignments. Some fellows put in for radio school. Maybe I should have, but I had joined the Marines to fight and I wanted to go to a line company as a rifleman. You could put in for sea school where you would be aboard ship for the rest of your career.
We were separated from guys we had come to call friends because of three months together in some tough times.
I was assigned to “D” Company, First Battalion, Sixth Marines, Second Marine Division and told to put my gear on a truck to be taken to Camp Elliott to join them.
When I got out there I was met by a nice gunnery sergeant and taken to our barracks. I was the only replacement the company got. The Sixth Marines had just come back from Iceland where they were the very first expeditionary forces sent from the U.S. to check the advance of the Axis powers. They were veterans. There were PFC’s that had been in the Corps for 6 years. Promotions came slow in the peacetime Marine Corps. Our platoon leader was 1st. Lieutenant W.K. Jones. He was about 25 and a graduate of Texas A&M. We had Master Gunnery Sergeant Reeves and Master Gunnery Sergeant James. Both had been in the corps for over 20 years. Reeves had previously served in the French Foreign Legion.
Some people from every unit had to serve in the mess hall to wash dishes and peel potatoes. Since I was the newest guy I was immediately put in the mess hall. I was really mad about this turn of events. We had been told that if we did good work in boot camp we would never have to serve mess duty. I really made a fuss about this. I served my duty in the mess hall and then went to be with my outfit, the mortar platoon and worked hard there. And I really griped. Some of the sergeants and corporals took a liking to me and they replaced me in the mess hall with one of their “foul-ups”. I was a real Marine!
I was a private and an inexperienced man in a group that had been training for months at least. The 81 MM Mortar came in three parts for transport: The base plate that weighed about 40 pounds, the bipod that weighed about 36 pounds and the tube that weighed about 40 pounds. We trained and listened to lectures. We knew everything there was to know about the 81-MM mortar.
Now we were able to go in to San Diego for liberty. Liberty wasn’t very much fun for me. We went in our own little groups and walked up and down the bad streets where the liquor stores, the tattoo joints and I think, the prostitutes were. Most everyone drank some and thought they were having fun. I was with some guys who didn’t drink or at least not very much. We bought some souvenirs and went to a movie. It was wartime and we got no furloughs to go home.
When we got back to base I found that “B” Company had been raided to provide a cadre for some new units. A lot of them had been promoted and they needed experienced mortar men for their 25MM squad. I was transferred to “B” Company. After I had been there about two weeks, I was assigned an assistant squad leader in a rifle platoon at no promotion in rank. All this was okay with me. I kept learning. The base at Camp Elliott was very nice. Post Exchange, movies, learning new things every day.
There was a man in “B” Company named James Kerr. He was from my hometown of Tuttle,Oklahoma. He had been in for about a year and a half and hadn’t received any promotions. I bunked in the lower bunk where he bunked in the upper. He indicated he was a Christian and that he went to church in San Diego when he was on liberty. He invited me to go along. I did and people were very nice to me and they were quality people. Liberty was nicer after that.

We did problems out in the desert around Camp Elliott, learning to read maps and use compasses. We crawled under live machine gunfire. We hiked from Camp Elliott to Del Mar, the race track where we slept in the stables and practiced landings with big old rubber boats until sunburn, salt water and sweat brought us in with bleeding legs and fried backs.


We practiced boxing, wrestling, with bayonets, hand grenades and chemical warfare. War couldn’t be worse than this!
We heard that the First Marine Division with the 2nd regiment from our 2nd Division had landed on Guadalcanal. We knew we would be going there or somewhere like that. We were ready!
We packed our seabags, rode into San Diego and boarded the USS Matsonia, the great flagship luxury liner of the Matson lines.