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A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley
A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley
A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley
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A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley

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First published in 1958, A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley is a brief but gripping narrative of the author’s experiences as a young U.S. Marine during the Korean conflict. Beginning with his enlistment at age 17, his training at Camps LeJeune and Pendleton, to his landing at Pusan and subsequent combat (including action at Hagaru-ri and the Chosin Reservoir), the book provides a firsthand account of the fierce fighting and bitter cold faced by the author and his fellow Marines.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 19, 2017
ISBN9781787207042
A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley
Author

Anthony J. Campigno

Anthony Campigno was born in Albany, New York, in 1932, the son of Antonio and Maria Campigno. He was educated in the schools of Albany where he attended Cathedral Academy and the Philip Schuyler High School. In 1950, he enlisted in the United States Marines Corps and served with the Leathernecks for a period of four years. He saw active fighting in Korea, including the Battle of the Chosin Reservoir, and spent most of his enlistment in the Far East. After his discharge from the service, he took up carpentry and entered the field of general contracting. A seasoned athlete, he fought on the Lightweight Division of the AAU Golden Gloves Tournament in Albany and took championship laurels. Besides writing he was interested in swimming, boxing and weightlifting. He was married to Helen L. Campigno. The couple had six children: Anthony, Susan, Lisa, Diana, Randy, and Ronald. Campigno was a member of several veterans’ organizations. He passed away in his native Albany on March 21, 2012, aged 79.

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    A Marine Division in Nightmare Alley - Anthony J. Campigno

    This edition is published by BORODINO BOOKS – www.pp-publishing.com

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    Text originally published in 1958 under the same title.

    © Borodino Books 2017, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

    Publisher’s Note

    Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

    We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

    A MARINE DIVISION IN NIGHTMARE ALLEY

    by

    Anthony J. Campigno

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    Contents

    TABLE OF CONTENTS 3

    DEDICATION 4

    A MARINE DIVISION IN NIGHTMARE ALLEY 5

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR 33

    REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 34

    DEDICATION

    Dedicated to those who were there

    A MARINE DIVISION IN NIGHTMARE ALLEY

    IN JANUARY 1950, at 17 years of age, I enlisted in the United States Marines Corps with the full consent of my parents. The world was at peace, but being young, I ventured to travel the world with a good outfit. My lust for excitement had reached very high and I, therefore, figured the Marines Corps would solve my problems.

    I enlisted at 90 Church Street in the Federal building located in downtown New York City. There I met a dozen companions, young in age like myself, and all eager as I to seek out excitement by serving with the Marines Corps. We were sworn in as a group, and then were quickly marched down to the railroad station.

    As I left New York City, I thought to myself: today will be a memorable day in my life—one of those days one couldn’t forget—like a holiday. It was a big treat that day, travelling through the Southern states for the first time, especially when the travel was at the expense of the Marine Corps.

    The end of the line came at Yamasee, South Carolina. We then travelled by bus to Parris Island, South Carolina, where we were to take our basic training. The rugged months of a new life lay ahead of me, a different life altogether, in which I was destined to serve four years. At least that was what the man told me when I signed my name in full. Well, it was new all right, and there were a few times when I felt like crying, especially when I felt lonesome for home. At night before taps, we had fifteen minutes to write letters. The lights would go out at 2200. A full eight hours of sleep was requires and we got that much sleep.

    The Marine Corps does not baby its men by any means. It is a rugged training, with no let-up, and with a great deal of emphasis on discipline, based on the tradition of the Corps. The Corps had a reason to teach and enforce discipline. The reason was combat, for which we trained every single day of our basic training until we left Parris Island. As many have said, Everything and anything happens at Parris Island. This is true, and there was a reason or a cause behind each event. Many things happened that I wasn’t prepared for during my basic training but one had to accept things as they came along. I used to think to myself that basic training was some sort of initiation upon entering the Corps.

    Came the final days of ours training at Parris Island, things began to slacken a bit. Our platoon reached the goal for which all platoons and drill instructors strive during basic training. We had the privilege and honor of achieving Honor Platoon, which is a great thing at Parris Island. We marched everywhere for the last few days, others platoons taking notice as we strutted by. The highest credit was due to our drill instructors who command each platoon as they go through basic training at Parris Island.

    The trials and tribulations each and every drill instructor endures training new recruits, with a magnitude of patience, is beyond belief. Without a doubt, a drill instructor is the fundamental backbone of the Corps. He will either make you or break you. It was understood that boot training would be the roughest, and upon completion, one had it made for the rest of your hitch in the Corps. Completion of basic training was a pleasure in itself. Now one no longer was called a boot or any other nickname one may have acquired from his drill instructor. All

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