Hell in a Helmet

I don’t remember the exact date but it was in early 1992 when we were ready to finish school of infantry (SOI) that I received my orders. Up until this point, I had been accustomed to familiar faces and names of individuals with whom I went through boot camp, Marine Combat Training (MCT), and SOI, but as everyone received their orders, it dawned on me that the group of Marines with whom I became friends would no longer be together.

I received orders to report to 2nd Battalion 9th Marines in Camp Mateo–the northern most point within Camp Pendleton neighboring San Clemente. Although I was the only one going to 2/9 from my group of friends, others in our SOI class were also going to 2/9, and stories soon started to circulate.

The 9th Marines lost their colors in Vietnam because they were overrun by the VC and many died. I heard the stories about the 1/9 who earned the title the Walking Dead–they got overrun and had to call arty on their own pos and when it was all over only ten Marines survived, as a side note I got to meet one of the ten survivors later in life. I was never certain how the 9th regiment ended up losing their colors as a whole but they did. The regiment was split up and 2/9 was now a battalion of the 5th Marines.

I soon heard stories that 2/9 was now a battalion made of misfits, troublemakers, and former gang members. 2/9’s budget was never enough and to make matters worse 2/9 gets the left overs scraps that the 5th Marines doesn’t want–that’s the reason 2/9 still had Vietnam era gear. I don’t know if any of that was true but at the time it was quite a story.

I don’t vividly remember reporting into 2/9. The experience is a blur except for wearing my alphas then going over to the barracks. The drive to 2/9 wasn’t far–it was a short drive to Camp Mateo from SOI, one exit south of San Clemente off the 5. I was now a fleet Marine with Echo 2/9 Weapons Platoon machine gun section.

Welcome to the Fleet

I don’t know how long it took after we arrived but I remember seeing Marines running in the barracks hallway and looking for places to hide. I was hanging out with another Marine who told me to follow him and run. We ran to his car where he locked the doors. He told me that they are looking for the Marines new to the fleet and fresh out of SOI to initiate them.

The initiation ritual involved many Marines holding down the new Marine and pulling up their t-shirt while the rest of the platoon (or section) uses the thickest sandals available to repeatedly beat on their stomach. Before they were done, they were covered in hot sauce. He told me that they’ll keep looking for the new Marines until they’re all initiated.

I’m not sure if it was just pragmatism on my part, I certainly wasn’t trying to be brave or make a point, but one thing for sure is that I did not want to keep running for days nor did I feel like hiding. So, I stepped out of the car walked into the barracks and made my way towards the Marines. They had just finished initiating another Marine whose belly was completely red. They looked at me and ran to get me. When they grabbed me I told them to go ahead that I just wanted them to get it over with. They looked disappointed then one of them yelled, “there’s another!” They left me alone. They did eventually catch the Marine who hid in his car.

There were so many initiation rituals. The first time you go to the field was another, and I remember a lieutenant getting initiated in the field. Sometimes though it was just boredom that led to aggressive play–it’s tradition.

Shortly after, a Marine, in another company (I can’t remember if it was Fox or Golf), was initiated and we all heard about it–the Marine’s father was a general and some had to pay. Suddenly there were talks about hazing and how The Corps does not condone that and so on. We could tell the officers were shaken–not by the incident but that a general was involved. The whole thing was a dog and pony, and everything went back to normal after some time.

We put in a lot of field time, a lot of training. I liked being out in the field except when it was cold. I liked running with a team, setting up the machine gun, going on patrols with the 11s. Garrison was fun too especially when we would get bored and look for something to do. There was a lot of wresting, and displays of agrro with usually one section going after another. I was sitting in a room watching TV once when I didn’t realize I was alone in a room full of members of another section that eventually led to me getting hog tied. That led to us trying to capture one of theirs.

Training

We did get some good training. The word we received is that the 5th Marines were not willing or did not have the funds to give to 2/9 for good training so our battalion CO figured out an ingenious way to get us training. We went to Fort Hunter Ligget. He volunteered our battalion to participate in an exercise where the Army was testing out new tank equipment. The Army got a grunt unit to go against and 2/9 well we got a chance to train in the cold mountainous terrain going against tank units–Marine grunts do not use sleeping bags, but we used them that time.

The same thing happened in 29 Palms. The battalion CO sent us there to train. As luck would have it the 5th Marines did not have or couldn’t provide funds so we ate 3/1’s chow. 3/1 didn’t like it much, but we ate. There was a big fight while we were there that Scrappy started, but that is another story.

Looking Back

Looking back on my experience and how the CO adapted to the situation he was handed to ultimately get us training, I took a lot from that. I learned a lot from that. I learned how to look at the objective and figure out how to get there. I learned that there are many ways to accomplish what you need to accomplish. Those lessons have served me well from impetuously moving to Sacramento the day after I got out of The Corps without a job, without housing, and without family to moving to Argentina knowing that I was embarrassed of my Spanish when I first got there, and not knowing anyone when I got there.

I no longer believe the stories that the battalion was made up of misfits and troublemakers. How could it be? I was in it and so were many of the Marines who became my friends: Pangan, Huang, Ponyboy, Scrappy, Bunny, Dorscher…