I found it interesting to read this morning on an ABC blog, that a Marine SSgt assigned to the Marine One helicopter detail got drunk, spent the night out on the town, and was late for work. Not that the story wasn’t badly written and uninteresting, but the only interesting part to the whole blog was the comment section.
While a few people made some retarded jokes and yes, some actually talked about the story, but because the reporter/blogger called the Marine a soldier in their post, most people argued about what a Marine should be called by. Here are a few samples:
The arguing started with this one:
“A person who says Marines are not soldiers ought to be shot. My dad was is a Marine and he is a soldier. they are the best fighting military we have in this USA. sorry if i seem harsh but i am sure that any military person out there would agree with me.”
To the guy who posted about his father being a Marine:
“I am a Marine, and I’m fairly confident that your father would not want to be referred to as a soldier. If your father is still alive I hope he slaps you silly for your ignorant post. If he has passed on that noise that you hear is the sound of him rolling over in his grave.
Then the Looney Left comes out to play:
“I get so tired of the constant lectures from military types about proper usage of their weird insider lingo. The military is constantly whining that civilians don’t understand them, but you guys don’t really want to be understood by us — or else you wouldn’t rely on so much on obsolete jargon that civilians don’t have the time or inclination to care about.
And as far as watching what happens if I dare to call a Marine a soldier: That would be “watching” the Marine/soldier get dragged off to jail if he touches me.
I know you guys are used to terrorizing civilians in Iraq, but that stuff doesn’t fly back home. You work for us, not the other way around.”
It gets better or worse, depending on what kind of mood you are in really, either way you can read more of them here.
I find this Interesting mostly because I am a Marine and my wife is a soldier. Both of us served in Iraq, she did a one year tour while I did two tours, the first for nine months during and after the initial assault, and the second tour, four months after the first tour ended, was another 9 months. Now, I do give my wife some crap, because she’s an army of one, but between us it’s just all in fun. I have the utmost respect for my wife and any of her fellow soldiers, as I do when it comes to anyone that serves in the military regardless of which branch, but calling a Marine anything other than a Marine is disrespectful. It’s as if your name was John and I started calling you Jennifer for no reason. They are both just names now, aren’t they? But what else are they? They are descriptive of who you are, are they not? I do get fed up with the media calling Marines, soldiers, and occasionally seeing a picture of a soldier online labeled as a Marine, but I don’t let it get to me too much. I don’t expect every civilian to understand nor really comprehend what it means to be called a Marine vs. being called a soldier, and thus I know there will always be some errors made when referring to Marines.
Don’t know who originally wrote this poem about Marines, but I received it during my first time in Iraq:
Marines come in all shapes, shades, weights, sizes, and states of sobriety, misery, and confusion.
He is sly as a fox, has the nerve of a dope addict, the stories of an old sailor, the sincerity of a politician, and the subtly of Mt. Saint Helen.
He is extremely irresistible, totally irrational and completely indestructible.
A Marine is a Marine all his life.
He is a magical creature. You can kick him out of your house but not out of your heart.
You can take him off your mailing list but not off your mind.
Marines are found everywhere… in love…in battle… in lust… in trouble…in debt…in bars and … behind them.
No one can write so seldom and yet think so much of you.
No one else can get so much enjoyment out of a letter or clean clothes or a six pack.
A Marine is a genius with a deck of cards;
A millionaire without a cent and brave without a grain of sense.
He is the PROTECTOR OF AMERICA, with the latest copy of playboy in his back pocket.
When he wants something it’s usually 30 days leave, music that hurts the ears, a five dollar bill…or a woman he can COUNT on.
Girls love them, mothers tolerate them, fathers brag about them, the government pays them, the police watch out for them and somehow they all work together. You can beat their bodies but not their minds.
You can tame their hearts but not their souls. He likes girls, females, women, ladies, and the opposite sex.
He dislikes small checks, working weekends, answering letters, eating chow, waking up, maintaining a uniform, and the day before payday.
You may as well give in. He is your long distance lover…he is your steel eyed, warm smiling, blank minded, hyperactive, over reacting, curious, passive, talented spontaneous, physically fit, good for nothing bundle of worries, but after all he is and always will be, a Marine.