Semper Fi: Marines At 230

(National Review Online)  This column was written by Mackubin Thomas Owens.

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On November 10, 1775, 230 years ago, the Continental Congress authorized the formation of two battalions of Marines. Tradition says that the earliest recruiting of Marines took place at Tun Tavern in Philadelphia, owned by Robert Mullan, who later became a Continental Marine officer. The Marines' first operation was a raid on a British base in the Bahamas. As I like to say, the Marine Corps was formed in a bar and then immediately went on a Caribbean cruise.

The Marine Corps has the reputation of being one of the finest fighting organizations in history. In his wonderful book "First to Fight", Lt. Gen. Victor H. "Brute" Krulak recounts a discussion he had early in his distinguished career with a senior Marine NCO. To Krulak's query about how the Marines had come by their reputation, the old Gunny replied, "Well, lieutenant, they started right out telling everybody how great they were. Pretty soon they got to believing it themselves. And they have been busy ever since proving they were right."

They were proving it in Fallujah at this very time last year. And they are proving it again now in Al Anbar province. As Marine general Jim Mattis says, "The Marines: no better friend, no worse enemy."

The first thing about the Marine Corps is the people. I have known Marines all my life. My dad was a Marine for 25 years, fighting in two campaigns in the Pacific during World War II and again in Korea. My dad and his friends were very tight; they had been through hell together in such places as Guadalcanal, Bougainville, Tarawa, Guam, Saipan, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. Just five years later, they were fighting again in Korea. The bonds they established in combat and training extended to their social life and each other's families. These were hardened, tough men, but they were like putty in the hands of their wives and children.

I guess I was destined to be a Marine from the beginning. When I was about four, my dad would sit me on his knee and ask me what I was going to be when I grew up. "A fireman," I would tell him. Then he would laugh and rub his rough face against mine until I finally shrieked, "I'm going to be a Marine! I'm going to be a Marine!" Based on the example that my dad and his friends set, I concluded that to be a real man — a gentleman — one had to act like them.

Of course, I have also known members of all the U.S. services and have always been impressed by their competence and professionalism. I have special affinity for the Army since I spent a great deal of my active duty Marine career with the Army at Fort Sill, Okla., the home of the field artillery.

But there is something special about Marines. It's not surprising, then, that the Marines with whom I served in Vietnam and after were of the same mold as those of my dad's generation. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would put the Marines I knew in Vietnam up against any other group in history.

Of course, the dysfunctional Vietnam vet has become a staple of American popular culture. As I observed on NRO not too long ago, the conventional wisdom portrays those who served in Vietnam as mostly young, poor, and non-white. Many, if not most, committed or observed atrocities (thank you John Kerry). The horrors of the war led them to turn to drugs and a life of crime. Vietnam veterans are disproportionately represented among the homeless and the incarcerated. The Vietnam veteran was and is a time-bomb waiting to go off.

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