I always wanted to be a Marine. 

The Corps was born, as the Continental Marines, in Tun Tavern, Philadelphia, on November 10th, 1775.

Of course, the U.S. Declaration of Independence was signed one year later, in 1776. So, the Corps is older than America.

I look back on my life as—always a Marine.

Much of my mindset might have been shaped by my birth in 1940, the start of WWII. 

So many gung-ho patriotic movies were available then, John Wayne as Marine Sgt. Stryker, in Sands of Iwo Jima, for instance.

Families in the fifties, when I was a teen, didn’t expect their kids to go to college as much as later years. At least my family didn’t.

I later did get a BS in Criminal Justice, but as a teen, I was gung-ho for the Corps.

I recall walking home on 147th St., Queens, from my high school bus stop. The snow crunching underfoot to the beat of the Marine Corps Hymn.

“From the halls of Montezum…” crunch, crunch, crunch.

Loved it.

Sure, serving in the Marines enables one to fight for America’s freedom. Noble, patriotic. I felt that.

I also felt a need to bust out of my home and into the world on my own, to soar from the nest.

I was eighteen.

So, just the word—Marine—sounded so damn good, too.

As in, “My brother’s in the Marines.”

“My son is a Marine.”

Or, “What happened to Lee after high school?” “Oh, he’s a Marine, now.”

The response to all that would likely be—”Wow!”

So, there was that.

It was no wonder that my high school yearbook showed my future as, U.S. Marine Corps: 

One month after that tassled cap, I had a new cap and a Semper Fi grin:

The Corps’ strength when I joined in 1959 was 191,000. Today’s Corps is 168,000, much less than the Army, Navy, and Air Force.

But, we are still, the few, the proud, the Marines.

Here, in 1959, a P.I. Drill instructor, Sgt Hilderbrand, as I recall, assisted me with adjusting my rifle sling. You might note his slight smile; the D.I.s were always quite congenial, you know.

I later became a NYC Transit Police officer and retired as a detective. Yes, I always wanted to be a detective, too.

I enjoy the Brotherhood of my fellow officers, and respect the dangerous work they do, whether in the subways, streets, or apartment buildings. And I do wear my police patches and logos once in a while.

But I wear U.S.M.C. shirts, hats, and jacket patches more regularly.

Below, I’m recently aboard a whale watch cruise with Cheryl, my girlfriend, and Kim, a marine rescue (turtles, seals) volunteer at NY Marine Rescue.

Kim had given me a hearty, “Semper Fi” on the dock when she saw my hat; her husband served in the Corps, P.I. class of ’81. The Marines’ eagle, globe, and anchor marked me as family to Kim.

I tried to razz her husband by having her send this to him:

But as she predicted, it didn’t faze him. I sent him a “Semper Fi, Bro!”

Yes, I still love the Marine Corps Hymn, even though I don’t march to its tune in the snow anymore. But I remember that snow, that marching music, that anticipation, now and forever.

My four years in the Corps didn’t take me into combat.

I was with the 6th Fleet in the Mediterranean, as were so many Marines.

I also did two tours at Guantanamo Bay. One in GTMO when the Cuban Blockade brought the world close to nuclear anihilation.

But I think people in New York were at greater risk of that horror than I was in Cuba.

Now, I’m in my own battle of Midway, midway through my eighties, with a deeper perspective. I’ve learned in the Corps of the fierce Marines who showed steel-gut courage in battle after battle.

I was never battle-tested.

But I was ready, as were many others, not tested. I, and I’m sure we all salute those who were.

Especially, those who were wounded or died in service to America, and those who served when called, only to be derided and spat on upon their return home.

Today, I only hope that those we put in office see war as only a very last resort. Think of it as if their own sons and daughters will have to serve and possibly perish because of their decision.

Commanders-in-Chief of the Armed Forces: Please consider holding to the Marine Corps motto, Semper Fi, always faithful.

Be always faithful to those who go in harm’s way with steel guts for America; be faithful to the faith and trust their families put in you. Summon your own steel guts to turn away from bravado, ego, politics, or personal pique, to send them into harm’s way.

These days, I’m aware of all the families who have photos like mine, in high school yearbooks or on Parris Island—and that’s all they have of their loved ones.

To them and to all military families who have lost a loved one for America, know they are remembered and treasured for the freedom we hold so dear.

And to my Marine Brothers and Sisters, know this: Something deep was instilled in us, at Parris Island and beyond, that reinforced the Brotherhood we carry today.

The Brotherhood, the camaraderie, so strong that one knows—it’s for life:

…Always a Marine,

Leebythesea