I was born and raised along the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland.
The Marine Corps’s reputation for making men out of boys was something I desperately needed when I left high school at 17 and in March 1958, I enlisted in the Marines. What began as a four-year hitch lasted nearly thirty-six years and included an interesting assortment of duty stations and assignments as both enlisted and an officer. The following nine years placed me in a variety of assignments: a brig sentry at Marine Barracks, Yokosuka, Japan, a radio chief in Delta Battery 2nd Battalion, 10th Marines, 2nd Marine Division at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, a drill instructor at Parris Island, South Carolina, and a sergeant instructor at Officer’s Candidate School at Quantico, Virginia.
This picture was taken, as our platoon was getting ready to go on an extended three-day patrol. On March 15, 1967, my friend, a Marine and a warrior, was someone who loved life and made everyone around him smile. His name was Corporal Gary Wayne Olson. He is pictured wearing his Purple Heart medal. I considered Gary a brother, one for whom I would lay down my life. Sometime after Operation Mississippi while in the battalion area, I was walking through the troop’s billeting locale when Olson summoned me into his tent where he read me the following poem he had written. I was emotionally moved by it. The fact that he wrote it proved that he really did have a serious side though he seldom showed it. Gary handed me the poem saying, “Keep it, it’s yours.” I still have his handwritten copy.
Joined the service during bad times of war,
Branch of service, United States Marine Corps.
Now I am out in the world on my own,
Away from my family, away from my home.
I wish I could be back with the loved ones I left,
I keep thanking God I have only two months left.
Across the ocean in a war-torn land,
Serving my country in South Vietnam.
Some people say, pull out of this country,
But how do you leave people so sick and hungry?
How can you watch people live in terrorist fright,
When deep down inside you know freedom’s worth any fight.
Though you are sick for home deep in your heart,
You still want to stay and finish your part.
Next thing you know they say your part is done,
You’re going home to your parents for they want their son.
You are so happy yet your eyes fill with tears,
Cause you’re leaving your buddies you’ve known for a year.
You pack up your sea bag and say your goodbyes,
Then you leave on a truck with tears in your eyes.
You go to an airstrip and get on a plane,
Now you are wondering will it still be the same.
Soon you are landing in the United States,
A country so bold, a country so great.
Your fight for this country has come to an end,
Yet you still say, I’d do it all again.
You have a deep feeling of honor and pride,
You think for a while and are satisfied.
So now you make that phone call home,
And say, “Mom, it’s your son, I’m coming home.”
As I have done for the past forty-eight years on the anniversary of Gary’s death, I go off by myself with a few fingers of expensive single malt, a less than expensive cigar, and have my annual conversation with Gary. It has become a ritual with me, as I am certain it does with Gary as well. We talk of times gone by, of the hilarious things he used to do to bring laughter to the platoon when we needed it most.
During the next twenty-six years I served in a variety of staff assignments and more than my share of command billets, including the commanding officer of the Marine recruiting station in Chicago, which was where I met my bride of twenty-nine years, Nancy, from Ottawa, Illinois. The photo of Nancy and I was taken at the annual Marine Corps Ball in November 2014, where I was the guest of honor at the Naples Florida Marine corps League.
Semper Fi.
~ Jim Bathurst, Vietnam Vet and Author of “We’ll All Die As Marines – One Marine’s Journey From Private to Colonel
As an 0311 infantry sergeant in the Vietnam serving as a platoon commander (a lieutenant’s billet), Jim was awarded a Silver Star, a Bronze Star with Combat “V,” a Purple Heart, and a combat commission to second lieutenant. Comes A Soldier’s Whisper Veteran tribute page wishes to thank Jim for sharing his story with us. Please visit his personal blog following his past military experiences and the books that he has published www.wellalldieasmarines.net
STORY LINK: medium.com/@…/we-ll-all-die-as-marines-b5513979fb2f…
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