Here's a shot of my dad on leave while serving in the Marines, a picture probably taken in Oceanside, California, above San Diego and adjacent to Camp Pendleton.He spent most of his hitch there as an military policeman and his duties ranged from being on "shore patrol" in Oceanside to being a "turnkey" (or jailer) at one of the Marine brigs inside the camp. (That was his least favorite assignment.)
My dad only had to pull a weapon on a fellow Marine once, when a prisoner he was supervising on a work detail tried to make a break for it. Even though my dad knew how to use a rifle and his service-issue .45, he personally disliked guns. He never had one in the house all the time I was growing up, and as far as I know he never shot anything other than a target in his life. (My mother's personal wishes and willpower might also have had something to do with the lack of firearms around the family abode.) Anyway, there wasn't much to shoot in the suburbs of San Jose, California, anyway.
Here is a description from my dad's writings on the military-designed .45s of his era: "It was a dangerous weapon--the safety did not work that well on the guns they issued us. One M.P. got his thumb blown off. Another guy put a big hole in the ceiling of our barracks."
Later in life, and as a kid, he did enjoy the art of fishing. When I was still a kid , he took me to fish for salmon and sturgeon on the Willamette River on our family trips to visit my Uncle Mel and his family up near Portland, Oregon. I got a big kick out of that.
Like a lot of young men, it took him a while to adjust to being in the service. He told me at times--especially in boot camp--he felt that "Semper Fi"--the Marines motto--was Latin for -"Roped in, tied down and spat on." But he was also a competitive young man who wanted a chance at higher education--and hadn't exactly had a picnic growing up back in Depression-Era Oregon. He adjusted.
One of the stories he told me was about one fellow Marine who didn't adjust so well--he apparently went nuts during the rigors of boot camp. (or faked nutiness) The recruit got up one night while everyone was supposed to be asleep and began marching up and down outside his qounset hut, goosestepping like a German soldier. He also threw in a lot of "Seig Heils" and "Heil Hitler!" and such. He got discharged.
This was my dad's first real exposure to guys his age from all over the country. He told me how amazed he was that some guys in his outfit were actually keen on fighting the Russians, something he thought would be only a last resort if they marched over parts of Germany occupied by the Western Allies. A few guys he knew at Camp Pendelton were always raving about hoardes of Communists somehow pulling strings in the US government. My father reaction was that they were just nuts, and paranoids. But later on he realized that such sentiments were widespread, and could translate into power for savvy politicans.
About the same time my dad was entering the service, a young Congressional candidate from nearby Orange County (Richard Nixon) was already beginning his political career by branding his Democratic opponent, Jerry Voorhies, as a Communist, or at least a "fellow traveller". Nixon's success at playing on the Cold War fears of Russian and Chinese expansion made the successful "red-baiter" a pre-McCarthy McCarthyite, carrying him into the Senate, as Eisenhower's Vice-President and launching him, after a narrow defeat in 1960, to the Presidency eight years later.
Very interesting!
ReplyDeleteGreat of photo! really shows how different it was back then.
ReplyDeleteYour father was in the Marines during a very interesting period, just after WWII. . When America was suffering from illusions of grandeur.
My father was discharged from military in 1950s for hitting a drill instructor with his rifle butt. Oh, well. Even by the time of the late 70s, a lot of people were still brainwashed against the "commies." I think it was a form of some kind of national mental illness. I was even was against the commies until I realized I didn't know why.
Sorry to be so short earlier. I read it as I was getting the family out the door for school. It was interesting to hear of Nixon's earliest attempts at politics. I also enjoyed the section 8 story. It sounds like your father had some colorful stories.
ReplyDeleteHow true. I think all the years of anti-Nazi and anti-Japanese propaganda, while in the main useful in defeating those vile governments, prepared the country for a mindset of fear of external and internal threats. I'm sort of amazed we as a nation survived the Cold War without another terrible world war to tell you the truth.
ReplyDeleteOuch! And there went his chance for The Good Conduct Medal as well. Seriously , I 've wondered how I would have handled a DI in my face like so many guys have had to do. I suspect there would have been a rifle butt in my future, either swung by me or at me.
ReplyDeleteActually, the drill instructor stomped on my father's ankle on a rifle range-so he hit him. And he wound dishororably discharged.lol I recently talked to a woman whose son was injured by marine drill when he was pushed over a railing. I guess it still goes on...
ReplyDeleteI'll have to get into the details of Nixon and his 1946-50 campaigns on a blog. He was a piece of work even back then.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for reminding me of colorful stories. There's one I think would be of general interest about my dad I'll put in the next segment.
Sounds great
ReplyDeleteyes, that sounds like an interesting blog
ReplyDeleteSorry that just struck me as funny, nice one Frank! lol
ReplyDeleteMy father was a policeman here for 35 years and he never owned a gun or wanted one either. I like the sound of your father, he comes across as a very tolerant man.
ReplyDeleteSounds like your dad was a good guy as well. It must have been nice growing up in a place where a poliiceman didn't need a gun; its unthinkable on this side of the Pacific.
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