249 Birthdays...and counting

The Marine Corps will hit 249 tomorrow.  It's tradition that I send out an annual message of celebration to the many Marines I've "collected" and I've been mulling over what I wish to impart in the message this year. Here it goes.  

It seems fitting that today, the day before, is my 23rd year of federal service, 19 of which was as a Marine Corps historian.  In those years, one filled with many proud moments, I hold one achievement above all.  The commemoration of the centennial of Marines in the First World War, it was my soul focus aside from my day-to-day work.  

Adding another 10 years to my life

I served as the series historian for the six commemorative histories published (several articles as well), participated in the staff rides for both the 5th and 6th Marines when they went to Belleau Wood, edited an updated version of McClellan's history, compiled my own published work, assisted with the 100th anniversary celebration of the 6th Marines, participated in the recreation of a 100 year old formation photo of the 2d Battalion, 6th Marines in Quantico and organized and coordinated the WWI symposium that saw more than 150 people in attendance including general officers, scholars, WWI reenactors, collectors, and families!

To say that the Marines of WWI remain close to my heart is an understatement.  Even now, nearly five years since I left employment of the Corps, these Marines (in particular) remain very near and dear.  So much so, that I spent part of my vacation this year tromping around Belleau Wood, Blanc Mont and St. Mihiel, as well as a bit of the Rhine where the Marines participated in the occupation. 

 Why?  So I could tell their tales and bring them back to life, even for a a little bit.  Therefore, for the Marines reading this as part of my annual birthday message, let me tell you about one of your own that I visited while in France.

Strand behind his mother

As planning for my trip to Europe commenced, there was never any question that we'd (because I went with dear friends, one of whom is a retired Marine Colonel) go to Belleau Wood.  I am a firm believer that every Marine, past and present, should make the pilgrimage one day.  In addition to Belleau Wood, I suggested Blanc Mont (because, Lejeune, of course) and the Colonel suggested Verdun (because, Verdun!).  We were also planning a visit to Koblenz, where the Marines headquartered the Rhine River Patrol.  It was during this stage another dear friend asked if we could visit the St. Mihiel cemetery and pay our respects to a Marine, Corporal Clarence Strand.   Without hesitation, we all said YES!

Clarence H. Strand, was born 6 April 1892 in Newman Grove, Nebraska where he was raised on the family farm.  Strand enlisted on 14 June 1917 and underwent recruit training at Mare Island, California.  After recruit training he was assigned to the 8th Regiment which was at Fort Crockett, in Galveston, Texas.

After being transferred to Quantico in 1918, Strand was promoted to Corporal on 3 May 1918 while with a replacement battalion.  He shipped over to France and joined the 75th Company, 6th Regiment on 3 August.  Corporal Strand was killed in action on 14 September 1918 as part of the battle for the St. Mihiel Salient.  

Mrs. Sophia Strand, 1930

Corporal Strand was interred in the St. Mihiel American Cemetery outside Thiaucourt, France, where he remains today surrounded by farmland and lovingly cared for by the staff of the American Battle Monuments Commission. In 1930, as part of the Gold Star Mothers pilgrimage, Mrs. Strand visited her son one last time.  She died the next year.

There are many visitors to the cemeteries of the ABMC each year.  Many of the graves have been adopted by locals who attend to the graves, adorning them throughout the year, visiting as if they were one of their own family.  It is, at the time of this writing, unknown if Cpl Strand has been adopted by a local family and most certainly unknown if anyone has made a point of visiting him since his mother in 1930 before last month.  

Corporal Clarence Strand grave

As many know, I have a penchant for stopping in the random cemetery and wandering in search of Marines.  To that end, I carry small USMC flags to leave behind at the grave to let all who see that a Marine rests there.  So, as I packed my bags to go to Europe last month, I made sure to include one of my last flags (need to reorder) and hope that it didn't break in transit.  

Because October isn't the high tourist season, the cemetery was quiet and we were the only visitors.  The superintendent came out thinking we were a family he was planning to meet, but was pleasantly surprised to know we were there to visit Cpl Strand.  He walked us out to the grave and I told him what I knew of the Corporal as I placed the flag into the ground.  

So, for you Marines who've made it through this post, written in honor of your 249th birthday, I offer "Happy Birthday, Marine!"  Tomorrow I will join 101 year old Major John "Jack" Elliott, USMC (ret) at the National Museum of the Marine Corps for cake--he of course will be the oldest Marine present--and I will toast each of you and those who came before, and since.

Happy birthday, Marines!

Cemetery Wandering

Oh the looks, and comments I've received when I tell folks how I spent my birthday.  It honestly cracks me up since I don't really care that most folks find it odd.  What is surprising are those who think "Yup, that's totally you."  So what did I do on my birthday? I drove 4.5 hours to a cemetery outside of Pittsburgh with the simple goal of visiting a Marine I first started researching many years ago, only to then end up wandering around finding loads of other Marines nearby.

As I mentioned in my previous post, 1stSgt Peter Tolusiak was first introduced to me by Maj Elliott--in the way of a conversation about the longest distance (at the time) flight performed by Marines back in 1923.  I began digging into 1stSgt Tolusiak (think "toe-woo-sheck") and as I did I realized he was buried in the Pittsburgh area.  It's been 13 years since I first visited the 1stSgt, and it seemed like a good time to make the trek once again.

St. Stanislaus Cemetery outside Pittsburgh

Tolusciak wasn't the first Marine to catch me wandering in cemeteries.  My former colleague and I had started this with our annual visits to the National Archives in St. Louis, a town with several Medal of Honor recipients in their final resting places.  But Tolusciak is the first that had me striking out more regularly to see what other Marines I could find.  On Friday, I found 12 total (including Tolusciak).  Here are just a few of their stories, because they all deserve a little attention on them and their service again:

PRIVATE CONSTANTINE STANLEY BUCZKOWSKI

I have to start with the World War I Marine I found.  Anyone who knows me, knows if you wish to pique my interest, simply start talking about World War I Marines.  Buczkowski enlisted on 4 August 1918, and made it to Europe just eight days before the armistice.  He was assigned to the 6th Machine Gun Battalion and served as part of the Army of Occupation before returning home to the US in August 1919.  Being from Pennsylvania, his Veteran's Compensation Application is online and fills in what the muster rolls don't tell me. 

Buczkowski's Veteran's Compensation Application

C. Stanley Buczkowski

CORPORAL RICHARD JULIUS STEC, JR

Here's a man BORN to be a Marine; born on 10 November, what choice did have have?  He enlisted on 17 December 1943 at the ripe old age of 29!  Stec fought on Iwo Jima with the 9th Marines, joining the regiment as a replacement as the battle raged on.  Stec returned home and was discharged on 5 April 1946.  Like Buczkowski, and being from Pennsylvania, his Veteran's Compensation Application is online and fills in what the muster rolls don't tell me. 

Veteran's Compensation Application

Richard J. Stec, Jr.

SERGEANT EDWARD MIKE FLAVIN

Flavin enlisted in April 1953 and after going through recruit training at MCRD Parris Island, he stayed on for several months before being shipped to Japan to serve with the 12th Marines in mid-1954.  There's little to go on in the muster rolls regarding Flavin's service with the artillery regiment, but rising to Sergeant in just two years (promoted 22 April 55) seems like he was a good Marine.  He returned to the US in January 1956 and was discharged soon thereafter.

Edward M. Flavin

There were several others, mostly WWII veterans and time will tell me their story.  But I can say that 1stSgt Tolusciak is in good company as each of these other Marines are less than 40 yards in either direction from him--although, being in Pittsburgh, they are on a good sized hill which made for great exercise.

As I found all these other Marines I recalled a conversation with another Marine one time where they were indicating that they believed their service in war was less than others in some way.  I didn't say what I was thinking, it wouldn't have been appropriate and might have come across as disrespectful.  However, my thought was "but you served, when others didn't. You were willing and others weren't. You served with honor, others didn't." And quite frankly, while there are degrees of dishonorable service, there is only ONE degree of honorable service. While the ribbons may not be as plenty, or seemingly valorous enough (in some opinions), the fact remains, like those surrounding 1stSgt Tolousciak, they all served when they were needed.  That, is true valor, in my book.

A Month of Birthdays Tribute

April is a busy month for birthdays for me. Of course, that's after coming off the end of March which is a close second for the month with the most celebrations. This April was particularly grand with the celebration of not only my birthday, which I share with my twin step-sisters, but also with children of two sets of dear friends. However, the kicker was the celebration of the 100th birthday of a man who has come to mean far more to me than I ever thought he would when I first met him almost 30 years ago. 

Jack going through records

 John M. Elliott first crossed my path when I was a lowly intern at the then-Marine Corps Historical Center in the Washington Navy Yard in 1995. I only knew him as Major Elliott, a frequent visitor/researcher who seemed to ooze history without lording it over you. I pulled files for him and had very little real interaction with him other than as a secondary to the historians in the office who were helping him. Over the next two and a half years, I would listen in on the stories he was telling, stories that he'd heard from the Marines who flew in World War I, the stories of men long gone already except in the pages of the books and papers. But we still didn't really know one another. As they do, all good things must come to an end. 

I left the Historical Center and went on about life for the next six years until fate/destiny/whateveryouwanttocallit came for me and pulled me from Wyoming to return to Washington. In 2003, I returned to the Historical Center and took up my position as a junior -- THE -- junior historian in the office. I was now responsible for the history of the Marine Corps' units, but more so, the individual Marine's history. Major Elliott returned again, and again. 

 It was after my return that was told I could call him Jack, a nickname he'd been given as a child--so much so that when he enlisted and they called roll looking for "John Elliott" he didn't recognize his own name!

Annette, Jack and Helen Elliott, 2010

Over the next 17 years, Jack was a frequent visitor of mine.  He's the man who got me hooked on researching and writing about the early Marine aviators--those who flew aircraft made of wood and canvas, held together with wire, bolts and glue, and flew without parachutes!  It was through Jack I learned of 1stSgt Peter Tolusciak (we'll circle back to him soon enough), and so many others that I wish I had been able to meet. 

Jack and his late wife Helen encouraged me in ways I didn't realize.  They were there when I got my first master's--cheering me on from the crowd right next to my folks, sister, aunt/uncle and best friend.  Helen was an alum of George Mason as well!

In 2020, with my departure from the Marine Corps, I lost touch with Jack and Helen for about a year.  In 2021, we reconnected; sadly, it was just Jack and I reconnecting as Helen had passed away.  It was then the second phase of our friendship began.  Having no family, and many friends also passed or in far off lands, I began to spend more of my weekends with Jack.

While I knew Jack had been in WWII as enlisted Marine, and that he was commissioned during the Korean War (where he served as well) and finished his career just after a tour in Vietnam, the details weren't there.  That was until we started spending more time together.  During this time, I learned about his life growing up in Santa Barbara after moving as a baby from Canada.  I got to know his parents through his stories and learned about his brothers.  But more so, I got to learn about his dear Helen--his wife of 67 years.

She said yes!

Then things went off the rail in spring of 2022.  Jack, the man who was still driving (yes at 98) and working on various writing projects, who prided himself on being able to do most things that others at his age were incapable, fell ill.  It was then that I learned what true friendship was in action.  Over two months, Jack was hospitalized with sepsis--an infection of the blood.  And every day, I was with him.  While the stories were more repetitive, and meandering--they continued.  He showed me his favorite picture of him and Helen.  A few days later, I was so concerned about him that I told him I was going to cancel my work trip to stay.  He told me NO, in very plain and clear language.  Work came first.  That day, before leaving the hospital, we both thought it was the last time we'd see each other.  I am not afraid to admit, I cried all the way home.  But his story wasn't over yet, and when I returned, he was on the mend.  

Jack being interviewed

For the past year, Jack's life (and mine!) has changed dramatically.  I'm more involved in another human beings life than I have ever been and he's continuing to teach me lessons about life, love, loyalty, friendship and what Semper Fidelis looks like in practice.  It's not just a throw-away phrase to him or I anymore.  Over the last year, there have been additional hospital stays and ER visits, but the man continues to demonstrate resolve, and determination.  He was so well in fact that in August last year, he did a 3 hour interview with the Richmond TV station at the National Museum of the Marine Corps, using just his cane to get around! 

Bringing this full circle, just last weekend, a select few gathered again at the museum to celebrate Jack's 100th birthday.  It was everything the man could wish for--friends, chocolate cake, and him holding court.  It was a beautiful lead into my birthday this weekend.  We gathered to honor the man, the Marine and the historian!  He was presented with a Quilt of Valor, a flag flown over the Marine Corps War Memorial, and some fans seeking autographs, among loads of cards, accolades and more chocolate!

Must be cake!

Flag presentation

 

In the end, the day was just as it should have been.  Loads of love, chocolate (did you catch that he loves chocolate?) and friends.  He continues to talk about it, telling me different aspects of the day each time we visit. 

Quilt presentation

So what I have I learned in the 30 years of knowing this man? Seeing him through some of his toughest days? Watching him battle back from near death? From hearing all the stories (sometimes multiple times, sometimes for the first time)?

Adoring fan seeking autograph

I've learned that a life well lived is demonstrated in the friends that come to celebrate your 100th birthday.  They are of all ages, backgrounds, experiences, and have one thing in common--you. I learned that Semper Fidelis isn't just some random motto and to most Marines it has true meaning that they feel deep in their soul, that it is demonstrated in their actions, their words, and their deeds as second nature.  I've learned the best way to motivate some, is to tell them that they are unable to do it.  I've learned that friendship is a weak work to describe the bonds we create in those relationships.  I've learned that I'm only a fraction of the historian that he is, but I'm working on it. I've learned how to be a better friend than I've ever been.  I've learned that my heart will be shattered one day soon in the near future, but that I will have become a better person, friend, and historian because of Major John M. "Jack" Elliott, USMC (Ret).

Small world, smaller Marine Corps, even smaller small town

I've spent the past couple days conducting research in the library of Syracuse University. It's been years since I've gone through some of the neighborhoods of Salt City. The city has seen better days and is looking pretty rough, of course it doesn't help that spring in Syracuse looks more like winter right now. However, my path took me by Oakwood Cemetery each day and I kept feeling pulled to go in and nose around. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea (wandering in a cemetery) but you'd be surprised by what you find, by WHO you find. 

 I wrapped up my last day of research early and decided to follow my gut that had been telling me to go into this snow covered cemetery and have a look around. Finding the Marines in the cemetery was an adventure with the headstones mostly buried by snow and upright markers often simply listing family names. This means just getting out and have a look, brush the snow/leaves/mud off and see what you find. I was feeling pulled toward this one part of the cemetery (it's huge!) and in the far reaches of the particular plot. I caught a glimpse of a military marker, slipped on the gloves and uncovered a Marine from WWI/WWII. "Well, there you are, I heard you." Yes, I actually said that as I dug the miniature USMC flag from my pocket. Corporal Hobart Jess Doan wanted me to talk with me.

Hobart Jess Doan enlisted in the Marine Corps on 11 April 1913 in Syracuse. He was accepted on probation as an apprentice (musician) and permanently accepted in the Corps on 18 April 1913 at Marine Barracks Washington, where his rank was listed as Trumpeter. He was just 17 years old and thus under the age of majority. In January 1914, Doan was transferred to Marine Barracks Annapolis, home of the Naval Academy, but later that summer he was assigned to the USS Rhode Island which was operating up and down the East Coast. For the next two years, Doan was the trumpeter on the Rhode Island until transferred to Marine Barracks Boston for a few months before being transferred to 51st Company at Marine Barracks Charleston. Commanding the company was none other than Lloyd Williams

and soon to find itself in Haiti. It seems our friend Doan had a bit of a mischievous side to him. In December 1916, he fails to report boat time and is "awarded" EPD (extra police duty, not to be confused with an infectious disease).

However, in April 1917, Doan reenlists while the company is at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The next month, the company (now part of the 2d Battalionm, 5th Regiment) is enroute to Philadelphia where many will end up in France as part of the American Expeditionary Forces. Doan, however, is transferred to Marine Barracks League Island. In August 1917, he finds himself once again in hot water. This time, he was found absent from guard mount.

On 21 November 1917, having reached the age of majority, Doan is discharged. His rank was listed as Corporal, even though I could not find his promotion to the rank. Funny enough, even with his troubles, his character was listed as "very good" (one step down from the best rating of "excellent"). It appears as though Doan stays in the Philadelphia area after his enlistment ended. On 15 July 1918, Doan reenlists at Marine Barracks Philadelphia and returns to his rating as Trumpeter. However, it doesn't seem as though he's quite shaken off the mischief. In August 1918, he's reprimanded for failing to blow "Taps" and in October the same year he's in trouble for missing reveille and guard mount.

Before the end of the year, Doan is once again deployed--this time to the 1st Regiment at a familiar location--Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and then by April 1919, Doan is with the 2d Regiment in another familiar location--Haiti! His service the second time isn't as long and he's discharged in October 1919, with the rank of Trumpeter and character listed as "Excellent." Doan returns home to Syracuse and in January 1920 marries Dorothy Potter. When World War II breaks out, Doan returns to the Corps and is assigned to the 1st Guard Company in Mare ISland, California, before being eventually assigned to the Marine Barracks at Naval Air Station Floyd Bennett Field, NY. He's discharged once again on 27 August 1943 at the rank of Corporal. 

 A couple documents that are helpful when trying to piece together the service of veterans is the headstone application that can often give a great deal of detail such as enlistment and discharge dates. Doan's did.

Another document that is very helpful with regard to those who served in World War I is the Veterans Compensation Application. In Doan's case, his application revealed another piece of information that had my hair standing on my neck. It seems that Cpl Doan and I share our hometowns! He was born in Locke, NY, the tiny little town that I grew up in and lived in until after high school. Apparently, I was supposed to meet Cpl Doan.

Unfortunately, the census records don't tell me the address in Locke, but it states his father was a farmer, so not likely in town where I lived. Corporal Doan, you are remembered!

158 Years Later!

This world of research I've 'dabbled' in over the past ~30 years started with my father's family.  Ignoring the tall tale that we weren't related to any other Amermans, I started digging in the local historical society, county records and other historical repositories, which eventually landed me a volunteer position on my one day off a week from my summer job.  Since then, I can debunk the tall tale and say we are ALL related.  No matter how you spell the name, one M or two, we're all related.  

The realm of military history 'dabbling' started even earlier; I was still in elementary school and was engrossed in the Civil War.  I always had my nose in a book about it, including at times when I could have been screwing off in the senior lounge with my friends during a free period in my senior year instead of reading about Sherman's march across Georgia.  I'd been to Gettysburg several times, felt a pull to the battlefield, and have photographed many of the NY monuments.  Of course I paid close attention to those that listed towns and counties from my neck of the woods; this includes the 111th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment monument.

However, these two aspects of my life-long obsession did not collide until a few years ago as I started digging into the many branches of the family tree.  Unbeknownst to me, my 3x grandfather was at Gettysburg.  So, here we are 158 years later to the day, so let me introduce you to Private George Pickard.

On 1 August 1862, at the ripe age of 44 and with 9 children under the roof, George Pickard of Owasco, New York, enlisted.  Private Pickard, like many from Cayuga and Wayne Counties created the 111th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment.  Before the end of the month, the regiment left the state and was bound for the defense of Harper's Ferry.

Harper's Ferry was also another one of those places that I felt pulled to in those early days of learning to be a historian.  The 111th was there.  The regimental commander reported:

“Suddenly we heard a clattering among the stones; you could see nothing…it turned out to be a body of the enemy’s cavalry that made a dash at us and delivered a fire from carbines, as I supposed. I immediately ordered my regiment to return the fire; I repeated it about three times.”

Colonel Jesse Segoine,
111th New York Regiment.

In the end, the regiment surrendered on 15 September 1862.  However, the next day, the men were paroled and sent to Annapolis, Maryland, and then to Camp Douglass, in Chicago.  There they remained until 23 November when they were exchanged and stayed on to perform guard duty until ordered to Washington, DC and to perform duty in the defenses of the city and at Centreville, VA.

The regiment remained in the area until 25 June 1863 when it was ordered to join the Army of the Potomac in the field and assigned to 3rd Brigade, 3rd Division, 2nd Corps.  The regiment then commenced the Gettysburg Campaign.  

From the monument we know:

The regiment was commanded by Colonel Clinton D. MacDougall until he was wounded on July 3. Lieutenant Colonel Isaac M. Usk took command until he, too was wounded, when Caption Aaron P. Seeley took over the regiment.

From the monument:

Arrived early morning July 2nd 1863, position near Ziegler’s Grove. Went to relief of 3rd Corps in afternoon; took this position that evening and held it to close of battle. Number engaged (8 companies) 390 Casualties Killed 58, wounded 177, missing 14, total 249

 It was on 2 July that Private Pickard met his fate.  From the letter that Colonel MacDougall, a former Auburn banker originally from Scotland, wrote his widow stating “that the wound that caused her husband's death was received on the battlefield.” Private Pickard was mortally shot in the head, and was sent to Fort Schuyler, New York where he languished for 20 days until complications from his wound (including meningitis) took his life.  Less than a year after enlisting.

Private Pickard was the oldest man from Owasco to join the cause of the Union.  He left behind his wife Jane, and nine children--the youngest born just weeks before he enlisted.  From Owasco historian, Laurel Auchampaugh (who I worked with when I was volunteering on that one day off a week!) reports that my 3xgrandmother had a terrible time getting her widow's pension:

Jane had a difficult time proving the record of her marriage and birth of her children to obtain a widows pension. It took the witness and proof of her sisters Clarissa and Eliza Francisco who were present at her marriage in Skaneateles by a Justice of the Peace in order to obtain her pension. The testimony of her neighbors and midwives, Margaret and Elizabeth Terwilliger, proved the birth of the children. Margaret had to make her mark because she could not read or write. Her sister's signature was strong and defined by artistic curves and curlicues.

Jane Pickard was finally able to receive a widows pension one year after her husband's death. It was for $8 a month and $2 for each minor child until they reached the age of 16. This was carefully computed for each child to their year of majority in the pension report.

Jane Pickard never remarried, and her increased pension of $12 a month was discontinued when she died Oct. 29, 1908 at the age of 82.

New York, Civil War Muster Roll Abstracts, 1861-1900 via ancestry.com

It appears that my early passion for the Civil War, Gettysburg, Harper's Ferry, and the fact that I'm now living within miles of where he served during the war was in my DNA.  The fact that all these various pieces came together 158 years later, or thereabouts, is a little eerie--not in a bad way.  

 So this 2 July, I'll remember Private George Pickard of Owasco, New York, my 3xgrandfather.  Thank you, Private Pickard.  He gave the last full measure of devotion to uphold the principles of the founding fathers; liberty for all because all men (and women) are created equal.
 

Memorial Day, a personal accounting

Three day weekend and barbecues; hoping for good weather so grilling can take place and friends or family can visit.  Sometimes there's a parade, more often not these days.  That's what Memorial Day has become to some.  For many others, it's something more personal.  I'm one of those.

Like many of my colleagues, Memorial Day is a reminder of the work we do every day.  My colleagues and I are in the remembrance business, if you want to get down to it.  If you want to get into the "war and memory" story, there are some excellent books you should read.  

Paul Fussell's The Great War and Modern Memory is a great one to start with but not to be forgotten is also Jay Winters' Remembering War--just to name a few.  

For me, and many of my colleagues, the act of being a historian is the act of being the collective memory for a nation, organization or group of organizations.  For me, personally, it's the act of being the collective memory for families.  I've been accused of saying this too much, but I am a firm believer that if a person is remembered, they continue to live on--never truly gone.  So, I've made a career of collecting stories and memories in order to be able to bring them back to life for the family, for the nation, for the organization, but more for that person themself.

So, when Memorial Day rolls around, I take stock in the stories, bring to light those I can, and bring them back to the present, even if just for a few minutes.

What about this year? This year it's a little closer to home for me.  Most don't know that I cut my research teeth working in my own family's genealogy when I was in high school.  The research bug hit me hard and still to this day consumes me in my paid-job, and passion.  I've traced my father's side of the family back to 1650, and then started working on the off-shoots--the women who married into the family.  What's their history? It's this work that yielded two names that I must commemorate this Memorial Day.  I haven't dug far enough into their stories, so there's not a ton to go on, but here's my tribute.

Private George Pickard of Auburn, NY, born 1817.  Pvt Pickard is my 3xgreat grandfather.  Pvt Pickard married Jane and went on to have nine children with her.  She was pregnant with their son Paul when he enlisted, in the US Army on 20 August 1862, with Company F, 111th New York Infantry that formed from men from Cayuga and Wayne Counties in Upstate New York.  The regiment met its fate at Gettysburg that hot July of 1863.

It was said of the regiment, "Col. Fox, in his account of the three hundred fighting regiments, speaking of the 111th, says: "On June 25, 1863, the brigade joined the 2nd corps which was then marching by on its way to Gettysburg. The regiment left two companies on guard at Accotink bridge; with the remaining eight companies, numbering 390 men, it was engaged at Gettysburg on the second day of the battle, in the brilliant and successful charge of Willard's brigade, losing 58 killed, 177 wounded, and 14 missing; total, 249."  Pvt Pickard was one of the 177 wounded at Gettysburg on the second day, just one year after enlisting.

Pvt Pickard's wounds were mortal.  He was sent to Fort Schyler in New York where he lingered for 20 days before succumbing to his wounds.  Today, he rests there still. 

In a previous war, there was another relative of mine.  Private Jacobus Amerman, Jr., of New Jersey, my 4xgreat grand uncle.  Jacobus is a bit of an enigma because this is a name that is popular in the family's early days, making it hard to sort him from his relatives.  What is known is that on 16 August 1775, five companies from Somerset, NJ were created and Jacobus was under the command of Captain Peter D. Vroom in the 2nd Battalion.  The men of NJ were engaged at the Battle of Germantown in October 1777, and Jacobus met his fate there on the 4th.

Since 1775, more than 1.2 million have given their life for this land.  That's a staggering number, but what is more staggering is how many were left behind grieving for those who were sacrificed on the alter of freedom.  What about those who didn't die in battle but were wearing the uniform? So many more lives lost, and shattered by the loss.  

Memorial Day is far more than picnics, grills, and sunshine.  However, by all means, do attend these events because we live in a great land; paid for in blood by so many.  But, take a moment to pay your respects, even if silently to yourself.  Honor them, even for just the slightest of moments.  They earned that much.

Remember them; remember their sacrifice.

Armed Forces Day 2021

For the last ten years of my time with the Marine Corps, I was responsible for drafting messages from the Commandant to the entire Corps (ALMARS=All Marine messages) on topics of a historical nature.  Such topics as wishing units happy birthdays, veterans day and Armed Forces Day.  They were short, and I couldn't get too creative, which was a bummer.  This year, since I'm not drafting it for the CMC, I'm going to write my own because TODAY is Armed Forces Day 2021.

What is Armed Forces Day? "Armed Forces Day is a special holiday for people all over the world to come together and thank the men and women of the United States Armed Forces. First conceived by President Harry S. Truman, the holiday was established in 1949. The creation of a single day celebration for all five branches of the United States military made sense due to its recent unification under the Department of Defense."

Don't confuse it with Veterans Day or Memorial Day, which have similar, but not the same meaning.  Truman's intent was to have ONE day to honor all the various services, each service still honors their own day of creation, but this day is for we citizens to pay tribute to the various services.

While I work for DoD, I am not a hawk; nor am I a dove.  I believe we need to have a well-equipped and well-trained military, for defense and for humanitarian reasons.  Sometimes the military is the only one that can get to the scene rapidly enough to quell the situation—be it man-made or nature-made.  Our nation’s military has been vilified and glorified, and everything in between since the day it was created.  There are some bad apples, but the good ones far outshine the bad, in my book.

 

Our military has often been the first experience other nations have with the US.  In places like Bangladesh, our military are heroes for the herculean efforts that were performed during some of the worst natural disasters.  The residents of that nation love our military. Operations Sea Angel I and II are the reason.  Other nations have mixed feelings about our military, places like Haiti.  Haiti saw our military in some its darkest hours; in the early 20th century, the relationship wasn't the greatest.  However, in the 1990s and early 2000s, it was our military that helped the Haitians though natural disaster and political turmoil.

The members of our military are human beings, and being human they aren't perfect.  But in a pinch, I'd rather find myself with American Marines, Soldiers, Sailors or Airmen coming to my aid than any other service in the world.  Why? Because I've had the honor and privilege to know so many of them and I know in the hearts of the ones I've met, they are honorable, courageous, loving, and fierce.   I choose to disregard those who do not uphold those values.

 

Today I don't interact a great deal with the active duty military, but let me tell you about one who I know pretty well (although in many ways he remains an enigma to me), my brother, "Dave" (as he likes to be called) who is currently serving member of the US Army.

This is how I remember him.  A smart kid, who loved to get into trouble and who (I swear) loved to get me spun up for the fun of it.  He's seen his share of crap while in the service, from shit tours to sandy/hot places, to the Army jerking him around.  He's done things I would never do, helped people who didn't speak the same language and didn't trust Americans.  

My brother has seen war, and what it does to people.  He's come home with the "badge of military merit" and lost comrades in arms.  To me, he is one of the reasons I will always advocate for our military.  I know that if I were in trouble, be it a bar fight I started, or any other situation where I needed someone to have my back, he'd be right there.  I also know that he loves fiercely--his family, friends and other loved ones.  He is honorable to the core of his being, and has served our nation through our longest wars.  This has left its mark on him.  

He can make me laugh like nobody, and I've shed some tears with him as well.  I always love spending time with him and want nothing more than for his health and happiness.

Of course, this is what I want for all our active duty service men and women.  I want them to feel proud of their service, feel loved by those they care about, and feel honored by our nation for their many sacrifices on our behalf.   Is that too much to ask for their decision to give their life, if it must come to that, for us all? They signed the dotted line for many reasons, sometimes it was for money to pay for an education,  sometimes it was to get away from where they were, sometimes the simple act of wanting to do something larger than themselves.  Whatever the motivation, they knew that it might come time for them to give the last full measure of devotion, and for that I honor the men and women like my brother who currently serve.

While Armed Forces Day is set aside to honor current serving, I would be remiss if I didn't include those who have served with the same courage, honor, commitment, devotion, and hardships.  Today I am going to spend the day with one of the best I've ever known.  He's 98, a veteran of three wars, and has recently lost his wife of many, many decades.  I am humbled by his friendship; I am filled up by the knowledge he has given me freely over the past 25 years and my heart breaks for him as he goes into this final chapter of his life.

 

So folks, on this Armed Forces Day, hug someone you know that has the uniform on (don't randomly hug someone, that might not turn out well), and let them know you have THEIR back should they need it.  To my brother ("SSG Badass"), thank you for your service, thank you for your friendship,  thank you for all that you are to our family and please know you are loved, respected and valued.  I couldn't have picked a better brother.

 

  

Ever look on Heaven's scenes...

Another Marine reported for duty recently.  

This Marine wasn't one that I didn't know before, rather, my great uncle Bill (William N. Hoag) who I fondly remember from my childhood.

His memorial service was Saturday (8 May) and there was never any question about me making the trek north to make sure I was able to pay my last respects and tell him that his duty was done here, the rest of us would take the watch.  I got in around 0130 on Saturday morning, got a few hours sleep before starting the day.  

 The day was wet and dreary.  It was fitting for the mood of most in the funeral home.  The service was short and later we all crossed the street to gather at the church.  This is where the true service began, because the rain stopped, the sun peaked out, laughter filled the air and everyone ate too much.  It was just as Uncle Bill would have wanted.

Someone, I couldn't remember her name, asked me "What did you whisper to him at the funeral home?"  I didn't realize that I'd been spotted kneeling at the casket.  I smiled and said, "Only something a Marine would understand."  

Uncle Bill enlisted in the Corps on 16 September 1958 and was assigned to Platoon 199, 1st Recruit Training Battalion at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island. 

Because of the timing of his service, my super secret (not so secret) method of following his service through the muster rolls simply cannot be done.  However, I can tell you that he served at Cherry Point and Quantico, and spent nearly every free moment on the road home to NY where he was head over heels for a gal that happened to be my grandfather's youngest sister, and his future wife.  

Uncle Bill's life wasn't all about the Corps.  Like so many before him, and so many after him, he did his four years and  was discharged.  He returned home to Upstate New York, where he raised his family.  He drove truck, farmed, was a mechanic and a good father.  His youngest son was my age, so we often spent summers at Uncle Bill's and Aunt Bobbie's.  I remember him as a man with a warm heart, an easy smile and a laugh just waiting to bust forth.  

Unlike many of the Marines I've known or studied over the years, Uncle Bill didn't come home with a chest full of medals, didn't earn distinction in combat, nor did he remind you every waking moment that he was a Marine.  He simply did his duty, returned to home and made a good life for his family.  In my book, that's just as noble as all the ribbons and medals put together.  

I was one of the last to leave the church Saturday; knowing I had to be on the road back home the next morning, there was little time to do anything except get some rest.  But on the way home, the sun was nearly down, but it was a beautiful sky.  I stopped on on a back road that offered an outstanding view across the open fields and valley, and snapped a few images with my phone.  Maybe Uncle Bill painted this particular sunset for his family as a thank you for their love and tributes that day.  

"If the Army and the Navy
Ever look on Heaven's scenes,
They will find the streets are guarded
By United States Marines."

Rest in peace, Uncle Bill. 

Legends and Lore in the Corps: Don't let the truth get in they way of a good story

 I've spent decades debunking myths, tracking down the origins of stories and verifying some tall tales that the Corps is known for.  Tonight, while scrolling through my Twitter feed, I stumbled into one about Steve McQueen, and Lee Marvin.  I thought it might be worthwhile to run my lips a little on the topic of legends and lore in the Corps.

When I was a historian with the Corps, I never actively debunked the myths.  If asked directly, I always gave the straight scoop.  Some were straight up lies, others had nuggets of truth, and some were no-kidding-straight facts.  When time allowed, I did what I did best, researched the rumors, myths and tall tales to try to sort fact from fiction.  I believed that even though they may not be true, the lore served a purpose; it was a way to bring Marines together.  

Smedley Butler, yeah, good ole Gimlet Eye himself.  I would have loved to have had the chance to meet him.  Everything I've read about the man, what he wrote, and what others have written about him, he sounds like a frickin' hoot. 

I recall the rumor that Butler had a tattoo of the Eagle, Globe and Anchor on his chest because he so loved the Marine Corps.  I'd seen this in many places, even in supposedly in his own words.  But the historian in me required documentary evidence.  A source that would dispel or prove the assertion for one and for all. What's more definitive than a Marine's official military personnel file (OMPF)?  Well, even this isn't concrete.

From BGen Butler's OMPF indicating "Marine Corps device tattoo"

 

As you can see, from his OMPF as a Brigadier, the "Marine Corps device tattoo" is recorded.  This seems to end the debate, Butler had the tattoo!  BUT...a few pages later, as a Major General, the tattoo is recorded differently.

 

From MajGen Butler's OMPF indicating "Tattoo American Eagle"

So, even the documentary evidence isn't enough to clear it up.  Either way, though, Butler had a tattoo on his chest and I'll believe that it is the Marine Corps emblem.  It adds to the mystic that is Smedley, it adds to his legend.  Further, for those Marines today who are hassled about tattoos, it gives them someone that is held in very high regard to point to in order to say, "Let's look at this policy a bit more."  These same Marines can also point to THE LEGEND, the Marine of all Marines--Lejeune--as well.  Yes folks, Lejeune was tattooed as well!

So let's circle back to Lee Marvin for a moment. 

Lee Marvin Headstone

You cannot argue that Lee Marvin exuded machismo; women wanted him and men wanted to be him--or so I've heard.  Lee Marvin was a Marine and WWII veteran.  The rumor long persisted that Lee Marvin told Johnny Carson that he'd been on Iwo Jima with Bob Keeshan ("Capt Kangaroo") and that he'd (Marvin) had been awarded the Navy Cross for bravery on the sulfur island.  Again, documentary evidence was required.  

Do a search online, can you find a Navy Cross citation for Lee Marvin? Not a transcription or anything, but a real copy of the citation? No.  The absence of evidence isn't evidence, but it can be used when combined with other evidence.  It is acknowledged that Marvin was wounded on Saipan in June 1944.  This can be easily verified by his casualty card (see below).

The card indicates he was ordered discharged on 12 July 1945.  While this isn't proof he wasn't on Iwo, it helps build the case.  If he were so wounded in June 1944 that he was ordered discharged in July 1945, it is unlikely he was on Iwo.  What about the muster rolls?

In January 1945, just one month before Iwo, Marvin is at the Transient Center in Hawaii, listed as "sk"--sick and foonote T is listed.  Footnote entry reads:

He's being transferred to the Depot of the Pacific in San Francisco in January.  He's not headed to Iwo Jima.  Strike three.  No, Lee Marvin did not fight on Iwo Jima and was not awarded the Navy Cross.  However, he did serve honorably, was wounded in action, and is buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

Had he been on Iwo and awarded the Navy Cross, would it change our impression of him? Not me.  He was a badass Marine, and a helluva an actor in my book.  Wouldn't change a thing! Oh, and Bob Keeshan? Yah, he was a Marine too!  But, he never left the US.  

Lastly, let's talk about Steve McQueen (or as he served under his full name Terrance S. McQueen).   There is a great story about him stealing an amtrac at Camp Pendleton, and then another story of him saving lives of Marines while on an exercise.  Like Lee Marvin, McQueen played some serious badass dudes on the screen, and it's not hard to think that maybe he was badass enough to steal an amtrac or save lives of his fellow Marines.

McQueen's OMPF was released and alas, the tale of joyriding in the amtrac is false.  

However, McQueen did participate in the cold weather exercise off the coast of Labrador.  He recounts the tale of saving the lives of his fellow Marines in a several articles.  One from 1960:

McQueen, and other Marines, did save the lives of their fellow Marines from the capsized amtrac in icy waters.  Pretty badass if you ask me.  

There are many other legends and tall tales that rear their heads now and again.  When the story seems too fantastic, or causes you to pause, do some homework.  Ask for proof, or dig it up yourself.  One of the best lessons I have learned in all my education, in all my years of 'on the job training' was to have a critical eye for things that just don't sound right.  Sometimes the tale doesn't pass the sniff test, and then sometimes you're surprised to find out it's true.   

If you think it sounds too good to be true, it might be.  If you think "really?" then dig into it.  Find those who know their stuff, read reliable sources, and find out for yourself.  

While I didn't actively seek to tell Marines that some of the tales they were told in boot camp were bunk, if they asked, I gave it to them straight.  I was often told that when I did tell them the stories that it was like kicking puppies.  On more than one occasion I heard, "You mean my DI lied to me?"  I would reply, "No.  It's not a lie if they didn't know the truth themselves."  On my very long list of "books to write before I die" is the "Enlisted Marine's History of the Corps" wherein enlisted Marines (and recruits, especially recruits) can read the unvarnished, real history of the Corps--where they will find "just the facts" and know that the history presented is not sugar coated, honest, and backed up by solid research.  One day.