Teen Marine

D.P. Sullivan

• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9781644248669
• eBook ISBN: 9781644248683
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Military Biographies
• Index: History

Daniel Sullivan was just a teenager when he enlisted in the service. He never imagined he would be part of the most historic battles in USMC History.Note to layout, (picture)Daniel was assigned to a Surgical Unit known as Charlie Med, as an ambulance driver responsible for retrieving and caring for wounded Marines.This is his memoir from Parris Island to land in South Vietnam to preparing for and taking part in the seventy-seven-day siege of the Khe Sanh Combat base from January 21 th

Chapter 1

Parris Island

Dorchester, Massachusetts

It was September 1964. Vietnam was just being talked about at home. I was in high school—and student—and I was not what you would call a happy camper. My friend, Jimmy Murray, and I had been planning to go into the Marine Corps. We wanted to get to Vietnam before the war was over, and I would turn seventeen in a few weeks.

At dinner one night, I broke the news of my plans to my family and my two aunts, both of whom were former nuns.

“What do you mean you’re going into the Marine Corps when you turn seventeen!” they exclaimed.

In an effort to save me, my staunchly Catholic aunts decided I needed a serious intervention. “We made an appointment for you with Father Bob, and you will go!”

Father Bob was a Jesuit priest who also happened to be a psychologist. I was only asking to join the Marine Corps—not a satanic cult! I think they expected Father Bob to perform an exorcism on me and make me come to my senses, but being the obliging nephew, I went to the appointment.

Truth be told, I liked Father Bob. There was nothing scary about him. We talked for about thirty minutes. He asked about my family, South Vietnam, and why I wanted to go. It was an excellent discussion. Father Bob later told my aunt they should allow me to go into the military because he thought it would be good for me. I was seventeen and needed to grow up a lot. He said I was well-adjusted for seventeen.

Being from a family that didn’t like the idea of their kids going into the military, I had a hard time getting my family on board; but at seventeen, I needed their permission. Eventually, I got it but only after two weeks of constant, nonstop whining and crying about it. I couldn’t convince anyone in my family, but they came around to the conclusion on their own that this is what I really wanted to do with my life, and they could not convince me otherwise. After all, I just turned seventeen and had all the answers to quote my father.

The next day, I went over to Marine Corps recruiting office at upper corner in Dorchester. I had an interview with a marine recruiting officer and got all the information I needed in order to join Marine Corp that included a physical at the army base in Boston. The Navy has a hospital unit on the army base. Marine Corp doesn’t have any medical units belonging to them. (Marine Corp is a branch of the Navy.) I also had to fill out lot of paperwork that I was required for me to do. The next step, my recruiter came to my home to have my parental consent papers signed because I was only seventeen. They sign the papers for me. The following Wednesday, I went for my physical at the Army base, and I passed it. So I am now ready to go.

November 3, 1964, was swearing in day, I am leaving for boot camp the same the day. My recruiter drove two enlistees and me to a building across from South Station, in downtown Boston for our induction ceremony. We went inside the building and up to the third floor, to very large auditorium where there had to be at least a thousand recruit all waiting for their induction to begin. We sat there for almost an hour before a Marine Corp officer came into the auditorium, walking passing me up to the center of the stage. The auditorium went quite; an officer spoke out very loud to all recruits in the auditorium.

“Those of you going into the Marine Corps, move over to the right side of the auditorium. Those of you going into Army will move to the left on the left side of auditorium. The Air Force and Navy will move to the center now.”

Then a big surprise hit everyone (shit hit the fan). “For all of you who through, you were going into either the air Force or Navy. Not today, gentlemen. I am sorry to say, there is a shortage of personnel for the Marines and the Army. You have all been drafted.”

The Marine officer started dividing the group in two half. He sent one-half of recruits to right side of the auditorium. The other half of the group was sent to the left side of auditorium The faces of the guys coming over to my side auditorium were as white as a ghost, and there were in such disbelief as to what had just transpired. They are all in shock and definitely not wanted to go in the Marine Corps. A cruel side of me had no sympathy for them. I did all I could not to laugh out loud, but irony of it all got to one of the guys behind. He did laugh out loud.

Ten minutes later, we were all given the oath. We were then taken out to the buses that were waiting for us on summer street. We walked over to the buses, and on the way, we passed few cabs. One of the cabbies inside shouted out very loud for all of us to hear, in a foreboding voice, “You will be sorry!”

This cabbie must of seen the movie starring Jack Webb, the DI a few years ago. What else could he know? He saw all the signs on buses Marines to Logan. We did not pay any more attention to that wiseass cabbie.

We got on the buses. I was a little nervous. this is my first time flying on an airplane. Our destination for boot camp is Parris Island, South Carolina. We are now on our way over to Logan Airport for flight on TWA to Washington, DC. The rest of the way on Banning Airlines from Washington, DC, to South Carolina. On the TWA flight going to DC, I got up to use the men’s room and noticed two recruits were making out with two stewardesses in the back of the plane. It caught me totally by surprise. Those lucky bastards. If that’s an omen of what’s to come, it’s a great one. I guess going to Parris Island isn’t going to be that bad after all.

Parris Island was a twelve-week boot camp with three weeks in ITR (infantry training regiment) at Camp Lejeune North Carolina. I get thirty days leave after Parris Island South Carolina.

I got to South Carolina at ten o’clock at night. We Boarded buses to go to Parris Island. It wasn’t too long of a trip to PI (Parris Island). We we’re met by three drill instructors yelling at us as loud as they could. They were truly maniacs. All I could see was Smokey the Bear hats. It was very dark with no lights at all. Very hard to understand what screaming at us but, occasionally, we would make out maggots, turds, and assholes.

One of the DIs (drill instructors) shouted something in a high-pitched piercing voice, “You are not fit to be in my Corp because you are turds and maggots!”

We were marched into the receiving barracks and were told to sit in the chairs at attention and not to make a sound. We sat there till sunrise, not a word spoken all night by anyone. It hurt like hell getting up from sitting all night at attention. The drill instructors ordered us outside the building and into formation. The DIs then marched us to the mess hall.

On the way, I could not believe how impressed I was with PI. There was not a blade of grass out place. It was so pristine. Parris Island was like a college campus in New England. The DIs were harassing the hell out of us with push-ups, bends, and thrusts. Every two hundred feet, somebody would screw up by scratching his nose, not looking straight ahead, or for just breathing. I didn’t think we weren’t going to get to the mess hall anytime soon. The DI were talking so fast. They were not making a lot of sense to me, but I knew they were not happy with how we were performing. We now had to learn their language fast. Their Southern drawl and out-of-this-world uncouth language they use. I never heard anything like that before. I can only imagine what was next. We got to the mess hall, and the drill instructors started screaming out orders to all of us, like how we would eat our meals in the mess hall by squaring our meal and how to hold our mess trays in the chow line. I asked what was it meant to square a meal. Big mistake cost me fifty push-ups and whole lot of abuse.

DI said, “Maggots don’t ask questions. Maggots don’t speak unless spoken to buy the drill instructors.” He went on for quite a while.

Inside the mess hall, I observed from watching the other recruits in the mess hall how to square my meal. You were to sit at attention while eating using a fork making an upper-side-down L-shaped maneuver with it, then shoveling the food into your mouths. You couldn’t see what you are eating. If I screwed up on this maneuver, the DI would be on me like flies on shit.

Five minutes earlier, I saw them beat the crap out of a recruit. Now I am scared to death. I have a strong Boston accent. DI called me a Yankee turd. I am convinced the DI are all crazy. I am also convinced I am not going to survive this place. I am five feet, nine inches, one hundred and twenty pounds. It looks like I am the smallest recruit on this island. I don’t think they make DI under six two. I am sure of it.

They all eat raw meat and drink nothing but black coffee. I had my first encounter with shit on a shingle (cream of chipped beef on toast) today. Just think I asked for all this crap to happen to me. Actually, I fought for it to happen. I am a moron. To coin a phrase, my elevator doesn’t go all the way up to the top.

The DIs marched all of us into a building, a short distance down the road where the barbershop is located. We all got our head shave bald. This was the first real first step. It fel...

Table of contents

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12