Memorial Day memories

Several years ago I revisited Parris Island, South Carolina. I first arrived at that dreadful place on Friday the 13th of February, 1970, as a just-turned 19-year-old.

A raw, frightened Marine Corps recruit, I would spend the next three months on “the island” being transformed from a civilian into a lean, mean Marine.

In fact, I arrived weighing 195 pounds, which I thought was pretty good. I had been a center on the high school football team, lifted weights, and considered myself in great shape. Three months later, having eaten 4,000-5,000 calories a day, I left Parris Island tipping the scales at a measly 160 pounds.

To be honest, I greatly enjoy having served as a Marine. Something transforming really does happen to a young man or woman and, for the rest of their lives, they are defined to a great extent by their Marine experience.

There’s a certain respect that veterans get from others and that’s especially true for Marines. The Marines have a proud reputation for being tough, ruthless fighters and there are still some people that hold Marines in a certain awe. Not my wife, of course, but some people.

Some 25 years after having left Parris Island, I went back for a visit. No longer 160 (or even 195) pounds, I had a bumper sticker on my van that read, “Not as lean, not as mean, but still a Marine.”

I walked down the streets of my old battalion, drove out to the rifle range where I earned an Expert’s Badge with the M-14 rifle, visited the chapel where Divine Services were held, and even took smug delight in watching a fearsome drill instructor devour a hapless, bumbling recruit.

Walking down a sidewalk under the blazing South Carolina summer sun, I saw six or eight old men slowly making their way toward me. Several had canes, one was in a wheelchair, and all moved slowly.

“A nursing home must be having a field trip,” I thought. All the men wore the same yellow and red baseball cap. As they got closer, I was able to read the red embroidery on the bright yellow caps. “Guadalcanal Reunion,” each cap read.

I stopped dead in my tracks and sucked in my breath. These old men were combat veterans of the great Battle of Guadalcanal during World War II.

On Aug, 7, 1942, 12,000 U.S. Marines landed on the 90-mile-long island. The battle would rage for six months before the island in the Solomons was secure.

Each side would lose 23 ships and the United States would suffer 6,000 causalities with 1,600 killed. The Japanese would see nearly 25,000 of their soldiers die on Guadalcanal.

The first major Allied offense of the Pacific war, the outcome of World War II, say many historians, was decided by the men on Guadalcanal.

Now here were some of these men in front of me. Grandfathers now, perhaps great-grandfathers, none looked fierce or tough.

I had studied about these men and those who fought and died during that half-year battle for a piece of ground.

I had seen specials about the battle on the History Channel — perhaps I had even seen these men when they were young.

I wanted to thank them, to say something to them — I wanted to let them know that the respect that I had received through the years was owed not to me but to them.

These were the men, and others like them, that gave the Marine Corps its reputation.

But, in the end, the words caught in my throat and I respectfully stepped off the sidewalk giving the concrete to better men than myself.

This year, at the Memorial Day service in Peachtree City, Ga., one of the veterans of Guadalcanal, Carl Bennett, will be the honored speaker.

Mr. Bennett, now 88, joined the Marine Corps in 1937 and was a sergeant who went ashore on Guadalcanal during one of the first waves of troops hitting the beach. He carried a 75-millimeter machine gun and endured the entire six months of the battle. He survived and returned home to raise a family and to help rebuild America.

I will be at the Memorial Service as I have been for the last several years, serving as the event’s Master of Ceremonies.

I hope that, this time, I will find my voice and express the appreciation that I have carried in my heart for all our veterans, especially for those who served in World War II, and especially for those who set the standard for later generations of Marines.

But, if the words stick once again in my throat, I am content to step aside and surrender the sidewalk in a gesture of my deepest respect. These men have more than earned it.

The Peachtree City Memorial Day Observance will be held at 9 a.m. at City Hall Plaza on Monday, May 29, 2006. For additional information, call 770-631-2542.