Our conversation has jogged a lot of memory so I apologize for rambling.
My overall career in the Corps was rather uneventful and I'm a bit embarrassed to post my story here on this forum, but it does reflect part of what went on stateside during the Vietnam draw-down. I mentioned that most of us went to 2nd Div after WestPac staging. I was assigned to a rapid-reaction team at Camp Lejeune with 5th Marines. That October, an anti-war moratorium had been held in Washington and major cities. Just a month later in mid-November, the largest protest in history was held in Washington, DC with something like 250,000 protesters. Officials at the highest levels of government were getting nervous that the demonstrations might turn violent and threaten government buildings and military bases. With increasing numbers attending these protests, anything could happen so the Marine Corps was tasked with providing defensive support.
Our unit was designed to react quickly to defend government installations and buildings - sort of a military SWAT team that could deploy quickly and independently or to backup National Guard or civilian police. Most of the training was related to riot-control and urban assault tactics (prevent or retake a govt. facility). Every week we took a turn in the CS (tear) gas chamber to build up a tolerance and practice fitting masks between training in tactics and riot-control. A wide range of scenarios were presented and it seemed that rules of engagement could be very muddled and restrained.
The typical duty rotation was 3 days/24hrs and then a day or two off. We could sleep or read during idle time but had to stay dressed and ready. A truck was kept backed up to our ready building with ramp down to get us loaded and headed out to a chopper if we got a call - otherwise, we had reactionary drills 24/7. The idea of fighting fellow Americans did not sit well with most of us as it was 180 degrees from why we had joined. But the more radical anti-war elements had already firebombed recruiting offices and government buildings and talk of violence was on the rise. Defending the infrastructure of government, whether we agreed with it or not, outweighed our concerns.
Fortunately, we were never deployed during my time there so the duty was absolute gravy compared to your experience. I did get to participate in an amphibious assault operation when some of us were temporarily assigned to a grunt battalion. We loaded up on Navy LST's for a week off the coast of Virginia and joined up with a carrier group. After the Navy had gunfire practice, we launched from the hold of the LST's in amtracs about a half-mile offshore and stormed the beach for a week of wargames. We wound up capturing the CP of the enemy and kept the coast of Virginia safe for democracy!
When traveling home on leave, we had been advised by civilian authorities to not wear our uniforms in train/bus stations or airports. There had been a lot of scuffles between servicemen and anti-war elements who hung out at those places and looked for uniforms to throw chicken-blood, eggs or just heckle them. Most of us ignored it and welcomed confrontation with protesters. Of course, lean young guys in civilian clothes with white-wall haircuts and carrying sea-bags was not exactly blending in with the population. Once, I wore my uniform on a college campus to visit a buddy which looking back, look some balls in 1970. I got a lot of cold looks and nearly came to blows from side-of-mouth comments during the few hours I was there. As you know all too well, it was a lousy time to be a proud Marine in America.
When I got off active duty, I joined a Marine reserve rifle company that was close to my hometown. They offered me a stripe and I got to play Marine grunt one weekend each month and two weeks each summer. The rifle company was composed mostly of reservists but there were also a number of previous-regulars that liked staying connected to the Corps. Discipline in our grunt rifle company on those drill weekends was not much different from the regulars. At 06:00 on those weekends, we'd load up packs and weapons in trucks and head out to a forested military base to play war games through the night, ending late Sunday afternoons. Of course, each week I had been back in civilian life, I got softer as had every member of the company so, I guess if we had ever been activated, it would have taken a month or more of intense physical conditioning to get us anywhere close to the readiness of a regular company. We were nearly activated once, put on standby with gear packed and loaded, but as had often been the pattern of my Marine Corps career, it was canceled.
You mentioned that you had been called to a reserve center to have your purple heart presented. It sounds like you were shortchanged. Our reserve rifle company had a number of ceremonies for purple hearts or KIA Marines that lived in the area. They always took place on Sunday evenings after we had returned from 36 hours+ of running around the New Jersey "bush." There we were, a tired, filthy infantry company of Marine reservists wearing helmets, packs, cartridge belts, M14 rifles slung on our shoulders with M60's, 81mm mortars and other assorted gear on the deck - called to attention while our CO read an action-report or purple-heart citation. Afterward, he presented the Marine or family with a medal or document and offered condolences to families of those who died. It was always a quiet ceremony and did not include any bugle call or 21-gun salute. I'm sure that we were just an additional honorary to another that took place at the burial. But, I think it may have been meaningful for the families to hear the action-report while the brothers (albeit reservists) of their loved one, stood there in combat gear and at solemn attention. It was often a sad, family-like moment as we in the formation and the family members seated, silently regarded each other.
Sometime in early 1973, our reserve rifle company got disbanded. The Marine Corps was in full-scale draw-down of everything so I found myself again, with an option - of getting out entirely, or transferring to either a Marine reserve artillery company or a helicopter squadron. I choose the choppers. HMH-772 had about a dozen heavy helicopters, CH53's and chinook CH47's. Since I had office skills (could type) and was now an E4, I was assigned to the operations group which was responsible for keeping track of squadron readiness and pilot flight logs - basically, a desk job. After about a year, I was given another stripe bringing me to sergeant E5.
I quickly learned that the Marine Air Wing was like a completely different branch of the military because, other than the uniforms and shared pride, the level of discipline was much different. Not that they weren't serious about performing their jobs with precision, just less obsessive about the little BS things that infantry CO's are always dwelling on. For lack of explanation, I guess the "grunt" mentality was not necessary there. Some officer/pilots and enlisted/crew/support members were on a first-name basis when they were flying or working together and out of earshot of others. It seemed that there was a greater degree of mutual respect between officers and enlisted because their jobs were closely connected and dependent. I guess it was obvious to every pilot that a mechanic could easily leave any of a thousand nuts or screws loose if animosity grew. I did get to fly a number of times as assistant crew-chief which was always a hoot. I got out completely in 1975 without ever leaving the states.
You are right Scott, we each are handed different circumstances. Some, like yourself and many others were handed the hardest service the country can ask. Many others like myself, prepared for the worst and are humbled that we were where not called. You and many others are owed.
Live well. Semper Fi!
Jim
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