Once a Marine: Collected Stories by Enlisted Marine Corps Vietnam Veterans - Their Lives 35 Years Later

By Claude DeShazo

The former enlisted Marines whose stories you will read in this book have a common thread.

The common thread is that they became one of the few, the proud, the Marines. They joined and entered the Vietnam war when their country called. They fought and returned home to adjust to normal lives by themselves. These are the life stories, told in their own words, of how Marine Corps vets came home, built families, businesses and are living the American dream today. Many still live their lives today with the same traditions and values taught to them by the Marine Corps and have adjusted after the traumatic experience of a war.

Marine Corps values are easy to state as: Honor, Courage, and Commitment. The Marine Corps defines these values in the following way:

Honor as demonstrating integrity in all one does, and accepting responsibility and accountability for ones actions.

Courage as doing the right thing, in the right way, and for the right reasons.

Commitment as devotion to the Corps and ones fellow Marines.

All Marines, former and active duty, live and fight under this same creed. Read about these men who left the Corps and the war behind and used this experience as a stepping stone to success and happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 23, 2005
• ISBN: 9781420841336

Claude DeShazo

Through the years we have seen and heard too many headlines of Marines gone bad. We wanted to offer in this book the other side of the story, showing that the vast majority of Marine Corps Vietnam veterans became well adjusted successful citizens, parents and providers. We asked former Vietnam veterans to write their stories of how they adjusted after Marine Corps life and Vietnam. Read about how these men went on to success, and literally speak for the millions of successful veterans across our great nation. Charles W. Latting, served as company commander of Mike Company, 3rd Bn, 1st Marines, in 1965-66 in Vietnam. He was wounded, received the Silver Star medal for heroism, and the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry. He left the Marines as a Major in 1969. For the next 21 years he served as an FBI agent and for 10 years was commander of the San Francisco FBI, SWAT teams. Claude V. DeShazo, M.D., FACS, served as Battalion Surgeon for the 3rd Bn, 1st Marines, in 1965-66 during its training and months of combat in Vietnam. He was awarded the Bronze Star medal with a combat V. He returned to civilian life with careers in immunology research, organ transplantation, vascular surgery and leadership in physician organizations. He is presently CEO of ePractice Solutions, a firm that specializes in delivering the latest Information Technology to medical practices.

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© 2005 Charles Latting and Claude DeShazo, M.D. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 03/22/05

ISBN: 1-4208-4133-5 (e)

ISBN: 1-4208-4134-3 (sc)

ISBN: 1-4208-4135-1 (dj)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2005902332

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The authors wish to thank the former Marines and Navy corpsmen who shared their stories for this book. For most this was a challenging undertaking. It opened memories of old experiences and was sometimes difficult. We also wish to thank our wives, Rhoda Leary Latting and Maureen McGrade DeShazo, for their many suggestions, help with editing, and general support. Stephen Patrick DeShazo assisted with research and made helpful suggestions about content.

Gilda Ignacio gave us the benefit of her administrative and technical skills in assembling the manuscript. Tim Mincarelli contributed a chapter and also designed the cover of the book. Elaine Headley-Jerome, our Author Services Representative with AuthorHouse, made the publishing phase of this effort comprehensible and enjoyable.

Master Gunnery Sergeant James L. Keely, USMC, Retired, provided valuable historical information and advice in the preparation of these stories.

We need to acknowledge that Once A Marine is the collaborative effort of many people. The years and swirl of events from many places make it impossible to verify every happening, name, and date. Each contributor has made an effort to be accurate and present the truth as he remembers it.

March, 2005

Charles W. Latting,

South Pasadena, CA

Claude V. DeShazo, MD

Monroe, WA

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the memory of the 107 enlisted Marines, non-commissioned officers, officers, and the Navy corpsman whose names are listed below. These men were members of the Third Battalion, First Marines, and attached units who first came ashore in Vietnam as part of a large amphibious landing on January 28, 1966. They were killed in the next three to five months while participating in seven major combat operations. There were many more who sustained non-fatal injuries, approximately half the battalion, in the same time frame. Many more Marines and corpsmen would die and have their names added to this list in the months that followed.

In assembling this book, the authors have been made acutely aware that all of us as contributors are having a chance to express ourselves forty years later – an opportunity that the men on this list never had. Some of them are mentioned in the pages that follow, most are not. There were many other units involved, many thousands of other men and women served and died. As time passes, units move on and the spotlight of conflict moves to another theater. As this is written, 3/1 is at the front again, battling in Fallujah, Iraq.

All of us writing now say to you, the ones named below, we were there, we knew you as brothers, and we remember.

Pfc. Ronald Paul Almaraz

Sylmar, CA

Pfc. Louis Allen Ambrose

Perth Amboy, NJ

Sgt. Charles Eugene Anderson

Spokane, WA

LCpl. Dennis Richard Andrew

Easton, PA

Cpl. Anibal Felipe Aviles, Jr.

Mayaquez, PR

Pfc. Robert Leo Babula

Indiana, PA

Sgt. David Leon Baungardner

Topeka, KS

Cpl. Richard Gale Bilotta

Brooklyn, NY

Pfc. William George Blanchard

Durham, NC

Pfc. John Eugene Bodenschatz Jr.

Redondo Beach, CA

LCpl. Csaba Boromissza

South Gate, CA

Pfc. Robert Curtis Borton Jr.

Winfield, MO

LCpl. James Jerome Bradley

New York, NY

Sgt. Robert Brown

Plaquemine, IA

Pfc. Edward Wayne Butler

Sacramento, CA

Cpl. Albert Cabanayan

Maui, HI

Cpl. Michael Carroll

DeWitt, NY

Pfc. Dennis Ray Carter

Lomita, CA

LCpl. James Henry Cavicchi Jr.

Quincy, MA

Cpl. Hosy Chapel

Mobile, AL

Pfc. David Lee Chapman

Tulsa, OK

Pfc. Steven Anthony Church

Los Angeles, CA

Sgt. Charles Ellis Crutchfield

Salem, IL

Cpl. Charles William Davis

Front Royal, VA

Cpl. Leland Francis Dixon

Mobile, AL

Cpl. Henry James Doster

Buffalo, NY

Sgt. John Henry Eaglin

Corpus Christi, TX

LCpl. Jesse George Eastman

Camp Geiger, NC

Pfc. Charles Lee Edwards

Memphis, TN

Pfc. Thomas William Edwards

Binghamton, NY

LCpl. Thomas Kenneth Emmons

Denver, CO

Pfc. Joseph George Evans, Jr.

Uniontown, PA

LCpl. Philip Fitch

Cincinnati, OH

LCpl. Peter Thomas Fitzpatrick

Garden City, MI

LCpl. Raul Flores

Corpus Christi, TX

Cpl. James Lee Gardner

Portland, OR

Pfc. Rickey Dean Garner

Dallas, TX

Sgt. Marvin Edward Glassburn

Fairmont, IN

Cpl. Roy Gonzales Jr.

San Antonio, TX

Pfc. William Richard Graham

Cheverly, MD

Pfc. Ronnie E. Hall

HM3 Garold Arthur Hann

Aumsville, OR

Pfc. Louis Peter Hernandez

San Bernardino, CA

Pfc. Danny Trent Higgs

Battle Creek, MI

1st Lt. Phillip Hines

Galena, KS

LCpl. Douglas Warren Hogge

Yorktown, VA

Pfc. Fred Howard Horton

Oklahoma City, OK

LCpl. Clarence W. Howard

Pvt. Harold Granvill Hugart

Miami, FL

Sgt. Leonard Ashby Hultquist

Keystone, NE

Pfc. Gerald Clarence Hunsbarger III Sacramento, CA

Pfc. Thomas Alvin Jennings

Palestine, IL

Cpl. James E. Keeler

Cpl. Lonnie R. King

LCpl. Frank Dennis Kornovich

San Jose, CA

Pfc. Jose Enrique Laguer

Brooklin, NY

LCpl. Roger Lamar Leslie

Warrior, AL

Pfc. William Lutz

Philadelphia, PA

Pfc. Gerald Clyde Lyman

San Francisco, CA

LCpl. Frederick George Lynch, Jr.

Philadelphia, PA

Pfc. Weston David Maclean

Westberry, NY

LCpl. Vernon Arthur Manheim Jr.

Franklin Park, IL

Pfc. Stephan James Martin

Los Angeles, CA

Cpl. William David McCuen, Jr.

Philadelphia, PA

Pfc. Charles Adam McGee

Alton, IL

Cpl. Russell E. Metzger

Sgt. John Albert Mitchell

Columbus, OH

Pfc. Alan Craig Mulford

Seattle, WA

LCpl. Michael Gary Murray

Richmond, VA

LCpl. Robert Lani Nucku

Honolulu, HI

Pfc. Jerry Emmet Parks

Grand Rapids, MI

Pfc. Richard Dean Power

Shelvin, MN

LCpl. Joseph Anthony Randazzo

Modesto, CA

Sgt. Joseph Louis Rapp

Freeburg, IL

Cpl. Stanley Riffle

Columbus, OH

Pfc. John William Robbins

Pueblo, CO

Pfc. Joel Rodriguez

Rio Grande City, TX

Pfc. Daniel Gordon Rogers

Garland, TX

LCpl. Gary Henderson Rogers

Pfc. James Herbert Rowden

Medford, OR

Pfc. David Louis Sabec

Vandacia, OH

Pfc. George Leroy Samuels

Eureka, KS

Cpl. Jimmy Pineda Sanchez

Los Angeles, CA

Pfc. Charles Sherlee Satcher

Hodge, LA

Pfc. Royce Glenn Scoggins

Sherman, TX

Pvt. Conrad William Shaina

Santa Susana, CA

Pvt. Anthony George Shepler Jr.

Chicago, IL

Sgt. David Shields

Rutherford, NJ

Cpl. Walter Ruben Shortt

Augustus, MO

LCpl. Walter Glenn Shults

Oakland, CA

Cpl. Elliott Simmons Jr.

Buffalo, NY

Pfc. John Smith

Sacramento, CA

LCpl. Robert Patrick Sousa

Alameda, CA

Cpl. Winford Leslie Sprinkles

Nashville, TN

LCpl. Stephen Stanley Strycharz Jr.

Hartford, CT

Pfc. Richard David Swayze

Santa Maria, CA

Sgt. James Edward Thompson

Trenton, NJ

Pfc. Clyde Edward Trievel, Jr.

Boyertown, PA

Cpl. Richard Alfred Ungerecht

Northome, MN

Pfc. Stephen Charles Valliere

Tupper Lake, NY

Pfc. Richard Allan Wagner

Stockton, CA

Pfc. Bruce Lamar Watkins

Dothan, AL

Pfc. John Elmo Watson

Sheds, NY

Pfc. Billie Joe Williams

Kansas City, KS

Pfc. Kerry Lee Williams

Philadelphia, PA

Pfc. Rubio Ybarra

Weslaco, TX

Pfc. Charles Louis Zoog

Hickory, PA

Table of Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

DEDICATION

Introduction

George Patrick Murphy

Timothy D. Mincarelli (Mickey)

Arthur W. McLaughlin Jr.

James Thiel

John C. Manning

John Stoddard

Joseph J. Wadlow

Doc Raymond W. Knispel

Thomas G. Casey

Rick Davis

Doc Dev Slingluff

Joseph Kee

Russell L. McClintick Sr.

REUNION Pat Murphy

Lessons Taught Commentary by Colonel Garrett Randel, USMC, Ret.

…And Lessons Learned---Conclusions

Appendix

Charles W. Latting

Claude V. DeShazo, MD

Introduction

The Question: Have you ever wondered why stories about Marines seem different?

Have you noticed that TV and print journalism take note when Marines are dispatched to action? Do you hear a reporter struggle to explain why a group of Marines, bloodied in combat, fight back? Why do Marines usually achieve their objective rather than be reasonable, i.e., pull back, regroup, wait for further instructions or for the situation to improve?

Are you impressed that Marines are animated and energized in approaching conflict? Where do ideas come from, like, not leaving their dead behind, much less their wounded? Have you ever heard of a corpsman being shot in the head while kneeling in the open, aiding a wounded Marine? In those brief interludes where political dictums do not predominate, why do Marines usually go in first? Why do they almost appear to be unleashed?

When a Marine’s action is reprehensible, whether seen through our customary fog of political correctness or in the glare of reality, why is it so noteworthy? Why is condemnation so quick and loud? In civilian life, when there is a deranged sniper, a brutal murder committed, or just fists flying in a bar fight, does it seem more than statistical chance that the miscreant will be reported as being a former Marine? Is it likely that the numerically smallest of the armed forces really inducts, fosters, or puts in uniform more than its share of people inclined to violence? Are such observations based in fact, or are they just a perception presented to us?

Purpose

Our purpose in this book is to evaluate these questions. We look to see if there are answers. We are approaching this subject in an indirect way, by learning about Marines from the perspective of their life stories, not exhibiting one or more incidents in isolation. We have gone to our best source, Marines themselves. We gathered our material from what they have to say about their experiences, not from journalistic reports or interviews. The story line we are taking is to follow a small group of individuals. We let each story, for the most part, comprise a chapter and have added commentary at the end.

It has been observed that the Marine Corps is the only branch of the U. S. Military where its senior officers, even the most senior, would not be insulted to share a label in common like, Marine with its newest inductee. Can you imagine addressing the Chief of Naval Operations as, sailor or the Army Chief of Staff as soldier? Marines themselves say there is no such thing as an ex-Marine, only former Marines. It is pretty rare to find retirees who do not consider themselves still a Marine, just one no longer on active duty as they once were in WWII, Korea, Vietnam, or elsewhere. What it was like to have been once a Marine, what happened, and what those experiences meant, are stories we have endeavored to let tell themselves.

What we have compiled is the lessons learned in training, combat, relationships, and from life itself. Each writer makes his own reflections. We wanted to emphasize honesty as the tenet to be put before our readers, so each contributor we chose has told his story his own way. Our sense of completeness dictated that each chapter carry the contributor’s own name.

We focus primarily upon the Vietnam era and often our own unit there. It is what we feel we know best. This limits the scope of the work, and what is included is further subjected to our judgment of balance. Even though Vietnam was decades ago it fits within the life cycle of men who are still out there, still works in progress, still with lives unfolding and being revealed. The stories do not rely upon conclusions at the end of such a cycle or upon epitaphs about those who have already passed on. We are looking for answers about what once being a Marine means. Yet, in a less defined way, we also search for the concoction, the brew that, by some acceptable standard, tastes of success. The unfolding stories reveal that the vast majority of young people who serve in the Marines move on. They do so by living useful, productive lives. That this fact is not publicized, widely recognized, or self-evident is the inspiration for this book.

Background and Training

We all bear many marks from our childhood and early associations. These become some of the signs that explain what comes later. Each writer was asked to give us a summary of their pre-military activities, thoughts, and family situation. Someone once observed that all families are in some measure dysfunctional, so we have not felt it necessary to delve into psychoanalysis. The book is not an attempt at a psychological study anyway. We asked each Marine’s interpretation of what he was taught in training and how it was applied. The expressed purpose of boot camp and subsequent training is to prepare the individual to function and survive in combat. Training prepares one for responsibility, leadership, and effective participation in a group setting. We need to know things that made a difference to our writers, so certainly we want to know their experiences in one of life’s ultimate crucibles, combat, and in similar challenges.

Later Life

We place particular emphasis upon the life that follows… How does the Marine see his past experiences affecting his later life? How does he surmise they made things different? We have limited our scope in at least two other ways. First, we have chosen not to follow the path of Marines who had long tours of duty. Significant as they are, individuals with 20-30 years of duty made a different life choice. They are part of another story. Second, we have chosen only enlisted Marines, not officers. There are differences, some subtle, and a considerable body of literature exists already about Marine officers and what they have achieved after leaving active duty. Our point is, the vast majority of former Marines are the enlisted who never rose above the rank of corporal or sergeant. The current Marine Corps Almanac lists 18,746 officers on active duty and 159,000 enlisted. In the reserves there are 3,662 officers and 32,278 enlisted. So from a numbers point of view, and several other reasons, the story of the Marine Corps is proportionally about its enlisted ranks and NCOs.

Heroism Not Necessary

Heroic feats and awards for bravery are not part of our search, either. Stirring exploits, and the pathos that accompanies some of them, have been the subject of many other writers. Again, that’s another story. We might note in passing that one of our storytellers estimates that for every one who has been singled out and decorated for some achievement, ten others did as much or more; often no one took note or survived to tell about those actions. In a like manner, we made choices about which stories to use, but did not intend to define success in a particular way.

The Struggle

This book is not the text of a sermon, not a book of instruction, and not encyclopedic in terms of contributors or time. It is more of a lab manual: protocol, observations and conclusions. Like good lab work, it is based upon first hand observation. If it is quality work it will not need statistical analyses to make its point.

What we saw in the autumn of 2004 was one expression of how powerful the relationships and emotions elicited in wartime are, and how they shape us, and remain with us, for the rest of our lives. Senator John Kerry performed some actions in his duty in Vietnam that were called into question by his comrades. He recorded for future use scenes of combat situations with himself staged as central character, then exited the field at his first opportunity. More noteworthy, he gave testimony before Congress upon his return. He visited with representatives of the enemy in Paris. He gave testimony about things he had not seen and that were later shown to be false. What he said left an indelible impression upon his contemporaries in the Navy, especially among those who were serving as prisoners of war at that time. Many Americans formed their view of Vietnam, based upon Kerry’s testimony, as a story of atrocities, failed strategy, and defeat. The contrary assertion that the war was won after the Tet Offensive, but victory never grasped due to lack of journalistic acceptance and political apathy, is only now starting to resurface. The reaction of American veterans to how Senator Kerry conducted himself and his strategy in the presidential campaign helped determine the outcome of the election. For the purpose of our examination of the life story of Marines, such a happening helps us keep focus on upbringing and training, performance during active duty, and how each man sets a course in later life. It gives relevance and importance to this book and is a story that every American should reflect upon.

This is a compilation of experiences. The essence of most good stories is first, a real and believable person. Then that person confronts a significant problem. To capture a reader’s interest a story also requires action. Most of us need to see that the individual, here a U.S. Marine, struggles diligently to solve that problem. He succeeds and, in so doing, become a different person than before. Current Marine Corps training labels this The Transformation. Insights into his problem, or each writer reaching conclusions, are necessary for a story to have impact on you, the reader. This methodology comprises the sampling we have gathered here. We recognize that not every individual succeeds And after we are finished, most stories out there will remain untold.

Structure

The Marines, like the other services, have an organization chart of divisions, expeditionary forces, regiments and battalions. This book can help reveal that for the enlisted Marine, grade one through five (sergeant), the organization is fire team, squad and platoon. The company and certainly the battalion structure and leadership are beyond the horizon of practical importance.

Application

What is recounted here is about the common man, about American youth, about advancement from backgrounds in a thousand indistinguishable places.

In recent years there has been a renewed appreciation of what was accomplished by American youth in World War II. The appellation of The Greatest Generation has been applied to that era in books, TV specials, and movies such as Saving Private Ryan. Our present generation, one not being very tolerant or respectful of that tradition, now shows some appreciation of the sacrifice and the effort, the downright humanness, which characterized the global effort during those war years.

The truth is, a greatest generation is constantly being renewed and reinvented. It is always coming forward and moving to the front. Those of us who came forward for Vietnam already have been replaced once. Now, still another generation is distinguishing itself in Afghanistan and Iraq. The three million men and women who served in Vietnam are growing older. Prominent among them were the ones who served in the United States Marine Corps. What those individuals learned from being Marines and by being together is the substance of this book.

Assembling these stories has been a humbling experience. It is a retelling of the story of the American Experience from the time of the Revolution through every conflict up to the present. We set out knowing something would happen, but not knowing exactly what. The story about the stories is almost a story itself. What came forth was like sleepy men falling in for morning muster and report. The two authors simply served as guides for the ranks and files to form upon. There were emails with attachments, packets of handwritten pages laboriously prepared and many phone calls. The stories often came with grainy pictures of young men as they once were, often accompanied by more recent ones from a generation later showing wives, children, and grandchildren.

We set out in an almost innocent way to gather lessons learned and to reaffirm, Once a Marine, Always a Marine! But we awakened something much deeper. These are stories of forgotten youth, and danger, and testing. The writer advances but there are painful losses, and remembrances of comrades, and memories that have been kept asleep.

Know the enemy. Each of us struggles every day in some aspect of our life. It helps to realize that operationally it all boils down to Know Yourself and Know Your Enemy. That level of understanding becomes the stage for seeing that our first great enemy is Our Self. We are fortunate if that enemy can be confronted while we are still young. Discipline at such a moment leads to further understanding, and growth, and success. The United States Marine Corps understands this. If the reader is open to such an experience, perhaps our book will help.

George Patrick Murphy

Pat Murphy went from being a Marine to an

attorney to a judge on the Federal Bench.

The old house on the hill was always cold during the winter. The wind came right through the clapboard walls, so the plastic we tacked over the windows did not really help matters. The aluminum storm doors were usually frozen in the morning, and to get out of the house you had to escape by kicking the door open without breaking the glass. There were two bedrooms, and the five kids shared one of these. I was the oldest. The bathroom was adequate for one person at a time, but barely. The kitchen was tiny, and I cannot recall there ever being room for all of us to sit down and eat at the same time. But, worst of all, the pipes always froze during the winter. The improvised insulation and the electrical warmers never quite worked. There was a stereo in the living room that was the center of what passed for family life.

I can see dad seated on the couch smoking a cigarette with my .22 pistol stuck in his belt. I think the 1812 overture was the evening selection but it could have been The Best of Johnny Cash. The pistol was his peculiar method of pest control. Varmints and critters are a never-ending problem for folks who live in the country. If dad heard something scurrying across the attic floor, he would adjust his aim by the sound and fire away. To kill a rat aiming by sound only is quite a feat for a sober man, but for a drunk it is remarkable. Regular but unannounced shooting inside the family abode is startling to one’s psyche. My sister, Mary Ann, says to this day she is still bothered by the whole experience.

I was about fifteen and just starting to grow. Dad had been drunk for several months. In fairness to him, his drinking usually tracked his bouts with rheumatoid arthritis. His preferred treatment for swollen and painful joints was a cocktail of Schnapps and Darvon followed with a beer chaser.

As I came through the front room that winter evening, he was muttering some gibberish about the efficacy of Holy Communion and the general superiority of the Irish race. I had all of this I could take and said what for years I wanted to say: You are a common and ordinary drunk. Years of fear, humiliation, and anxiety were behind this outburst and it was heartfelt. Dad turned black and coldly announced that, while he was surely a drunk, he was neither common nor ordinary. This was true enough. Then he managed to somehow get off the couch and nail me with a left hook that sent me rolling out the front door. He had been a very good boxer as a young man, and even drunk and crippled he could still hit like a mule kicks. The difference between a really good fighter and a so-so brawler is that the former doesn’t have to get set to deliver a staggering blow. It doesn’t comes natural to the latter. I was never a natural. I recall being not fully clothed but whatever the case, I was dazed and scared. I ran about four miles to my grandmother’s house, which was the one safe, orderly place in my young, chaotic world. I felt awful. Full of self-loathing and feeling impotent, I hated my station in life. I felt awful for my younger siblings and worse for my mother. I knew somewhere there was a better place for me, and I was determined to find it. Things should have been different at that time in my life.

My first memories are of being at Grandma Baker’s house. My maternal grandparents were wonderful people. Grandpa Baker was a big man who had served honorably in the first World War as a machine gunner. He raised a family of five girls during the depression under the most difficult circumstances. He worked as a coal miner and as an ironworker. He organized the local VFW and served as its first Commander. He was exceptionally well read for his time and place, albeit without the benefit of a formal education. He never finished high school but he taught his sons-in-law and others the math they needed to get their mine manager’s license, and he helped my dad get his seamen’s engineer license. He was always in a good mood. He was stable. By the time I came on the scene, he was retired except for working as a night watchman. He would walk home each morning with a doughnut in hand for me. The doughnut aside, it was the huge smile and toss in the air that made my day. Grandpa died of prostate cancer when I was five years old.

Grandma Baker was bigger than life, and to this day her picture graces my courtroom. Her house was always well kept and peaceful. There was always something good to eat, and for the Murphy kids, it was a veritable oasis. On the other hand, she would not, under any circumstances, tolerate a breach of discipline and good order. A switch cut from the shrubs in her front yard was her preferred instrument for enforcing order. In those days, the old ladies would have their nylons rolled up over their knees and grandma’s would show as she bounded down her five front steps, switch in hand, in pursuit of one of her miscreant grandchildren. Usually her target was my cousin, Little Jimmy, and me.

Mom and I lived with Grandma Baker until my sister, Maureen, was born. I was then in the first grade, and life was good. Mom worked during the day and dad was usually gone. He was a merchant marine sailor and gone for months or even years at a time. If he was at home for any extended period, it was because he was suffering from a reoccurring bout with rheumatoid arthritis and unable to work. I always dreaded to learn that dad was coming home and relieved to see him leave. He was never a source of comfort or joy.

Things got worse when we moved out of grandma’s house. Dad’s health continued to deteriorate, and he was home way too much to suit my taste. But in fairness he was an interesting fellow. He could break two-by-fours with the side of his hand and crush beer bottles with his grip alone. If his knees weren’t too blown up, he could, while drunk, broad jump seventeen feet. He had traveled all over the world even before the Second World War and was a great story teller. He was also afflicted with the worse kind of Catholicism – the kind that teaches damnation and provides little hope for salvation. Dad was always trying to avoid hell but never talked about heaven. I am the only one of his kids that has any good memories of him and, once he died, I forgave him everything and now only feel sorry that he had such a hard and painful life. He died by himself in New Orleans after having been to sea for many months. I am sure his liver failed. I think he was 53 years old, and I know he was totally spent. I borrowed the money to fly to New Orleans and fetch him from the morgue, give him a funeral mass, and send him off to be buried at sea.

I was barely seventeen when I decided to enlist in the Marine Corps. I knew there was a war warming up in Southeast Asia, but war did not sound that bad to me. After all, my grandfather and uncles had all done their turn at war, and my dad had been on two merchant ships that were sunk by the Germans and still managed somehow to survive. Anyway my best friend, Bill Hill, was going into the Corps, and I did not want to miss out on anything. As it turns out, this was a very good decision. I say this advisedly. If you are the unlucky bastard that gets killed or, worse, loses your legs or your balls, it is hard to say the words good decision. This is particularly true in the case of Vietnam. I can’t see that we accomplished anything in Vietnam, but still value the time I was there. It literally made me what I am today.

I started the process on a Saturday morning. I told mom and dad that I was going to enlist in the Marine Corps. Mom was understandably reticent about the matter. She was a smart woman and, like her dad, very well read. But my dad told her to start the car and get me to town before I changed my mind. His thinking was that if I continued doing what I was doing, no good would come to me. He said he always admired the Marine Corps, and I knew dad didn’t admire much. This simply fixed my determination to enlist.

Before I get to the Marine Corps, I have to say something about my mother. She died the last day of 1975 after a protracted bout with lung cancer. She suffered mightily for the last few years, but the worse part was leaving children who were still at home without a parent. Having raised children of my own, I can only imagine the agony that was hers. Mom inherited her dad’s natural cheerful disposition. She was a convert to the Catholic faith, and I think this explains her perseverance with dad. She never had a thought for herself and tried every way possible to make our life comfortable. The problem was, of course, this was impossible with dad around. On the other hand, I don’t know what a middle-aged woman with five kids could do in those days. I wished mom could have lived long enough to see how good life has been for her children.

missing image file

Pat Murphy, 5th from right, 3/1 prepares to load out, fall 1967

missing image file

Judge Pat Murphy, 2005

As I left for boot camp, I was not leaving a good situation. I did not know what I was in for, but my intuition that things would get better was correct.

Boot camp was not easy for me. I was younger than most of the recruits, and I had never participated in organized activities. I had survived, if not prospered, by earning my own money and staying out of my house. I was entirely too independent and self-sufficient to smoothly move into Marine Corps life. And more to the point, I hated every kind of authority. The good part of my situation was that I was so young that I adapted quickly, and my body quickly healed from