251 years ago, the Continental Congress created two Battalions of Marines. They stayed until being disbanded after the Treaty of Paris and were brought in 1798 under the Department of the Navy (Yes, yes; “Men’s Department.” Even I’ve made that joke.)
To borrow from Eleanor Roosevelt, we have “the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen.” There is a sense of camaraderie that is obvious to any outsider and as I have observed “We are the smallest service but by God we always find each other.”
Rather than repost General Lejeune’s speech this time, I wanted to explain how I ended up in the Marines. The quick summary is that I was going through a very bad time in the late 90s. I could not find stable work, my relationship was going nowhere and I had a degree that was worthless. There had always been a nagging voice in my head wondering what it would have been like if I’d joined the Corps. So I decided to shut it up for good and on April of 98, I was on the Yellow Footprints wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
Since then, things improved. I found stable work, met a wonderful woman and I’ve been with her ever since and I’ve seen and done some things that I might have missed out on otherwise. Glad I did it. Wish I’d done it sooner.
Now give me my cake and booze and get out of my way.
