I was surprised to get a few e-mails of appreciation regarding my first blog entry. Thanks for the kind words and for taking the time to actually read my stuff.

It's been two years, seven months and six days since my honorable discharge from the Marine Corps. All this time, I have only spoken of my experiences in the military by word of mouth with friends. I have never taken the time to actually write about them publicly. Well, i've decided to start sharing some of these experiences on my blog here. Please keep in mind that I won't be writing my memoirs in chronological order. So I hope you enjoy reading this one and others i'll write in the future. Thanks.


-Memoirs of a Veteran [Episode I]-

It was late 1999, I had been in the Fleet for only a few months having just graduated from my Military Occupation Specialty school. I was still a young, naïve Private First Class trying to adjust to the change between formal MOS school and the less formal Fleet lifestyle. I had already underwent the criticisms of being a "new guy" in the platoon but still had yet to prove my skills during a field operation.

Word had just passed that the platoon would be participating in an upcoming two week field operation. This being my first field op since having joined the Fleet, it was my opportunity to show my superiors and my platoon what I was capable of. The field op would consist of two opposing sides. One side would be going out to sea for a week and a half and then return to simulate an amphibious assault, the other side would be defending the beach.

I didn't have a choice in what side I was recruited for, but I had never been out to sea before and wanted that experience. When assignments were given to members in the platoon, I was given the task of helping the amphibious assault. YES! I would be going out to sea and on my first major field op no less!

The night before the field operation was to begin I couldn't sleep from all the excitement. My gear was all packed and ready to go, I had bought plenty of munchies and cigarettes, and I was already loaded on dimenhydrinates to avoid getting sea sick. The platoon was to head to the beach three hours before sunrise, I could hardly wait.

Early next morning we staged our gear at Onslow beach. A line of amtracs spread across the shore, one of them I would be entering. We were given word that we would begin loading up in five minutes, I quickly lit a cigarette to get my last nicotine fix before the two hour voyage to the ship that awaited us. Even though the ship was only a mile off shore, the slow speed of the amtracs made for a time consuming trip.

Five minutes passed and it was time to load up on the amtracs. I took one last drag off my smoke and field stripped it. Once inside the amtrac, the sudden feeling of claustrophobia took over me. Not only was it a small vehicle, but having twenty people inside of it made for a tighter squeeze. Once loaded, the back hatch was shut and locked down. Twenty or so minutes passed before I felt the vehicle moving, the air inside already stale with body odor and exhaust.

It was obvious when the vehicle finally hit the water, the motion of the waves created a feeling of euphoria at first. Initially I enjoyed the feeling of the vehicle bobbing along the surface of the ocean. Soon, however, the stale air and body odor began to get the best of me. We had all been told that if we had to puke, to do so in our helmets. Screw that! I had to put that thing back on my head later on!

Surprisingly, I never did vomit during the whole two hour trip to the ship. I think a lot of it had to do with the dimenhydrinates I had taken the night before. That didn't discard all the nausea that had overwhelmed me though.

Upon reaching the ship and parking the amtrac, the top and rear hatches were unlocked and opened. The fresh air that blasted against me felt like a gift from the heavens. Finally, we were on the ship and would be heading out to sea for the next week and a half. After stowing my gear in the berthing area with the rest of my platoon, I headed up to the flight deck to have a smoke.

For the next week and a half I would frequent the flight deck for smoke breaks, star gazing, dolphin watching, and trips of fresh air. I killed alot of time playing cards and sleeping in the berthing area as well. During that time I got to bond with alot of other guys in my platoon and slowly rid of the "new guy" stigma that had been slapped on me.

When it was time to return and begin our amphibious assault, we geared up once again and prepared for another two hour trek in the amtrac. The amtrac ride back to the shore wasn't as bad as the previous one, perhaps because I knew what to expect the second time around. When we hit the beach, the hatches were dropped and we began our full assault. It reminded me of watching footage of D-Day, and this provided for an extra punch of motivation.

I ran in a staggered column across the sand towards the tree line where our "enemy" was. My lungs began to burn after the first 50 yards or so and I tried my best not to slow down. We were shouted orders to drop, dig in, and begin returning fire.

The firefight lasted long into the day as we slowly inched our way towards the tree line. We were only shooting blanks of course, but the battle still seemed real enough. We eventually managed to push the opposing side further into the woods, giving us the opportunity to advance. For the remaining days of the field op we continued our firefights, got little sleep, and learned a lot about tactics in combat.

Field ops such as this one were for the purpose of preparing for real combat situations. You never stop training for war, because you're not always going to be in the same situation every time. By the time the op was finished, neither side had won. It wasn't about winning, it was about learning from the whole experience and using it as a tool for when you're actually in combat.

After the field op was completed and the platoon headed back to the rear, I was happy with the whole experience. My first field op in the Fleet had come and gone, and I had performed well in the eyes of my superiors. I had a cold beer with my newly established brothers back at the barracks. We told jokes, laughed, and discussed the op we had just completed. The whole thing had been a good time, something to remember for the rest of my years.



H-K-D