I wrote this letter for a friend. What a bunch of bullshit that goes on in the Marine Corps.
Sergeant Major Carter,
I trust this letter finds you well. I’ll begin this letter by first introducing myself.
My name is Sergeant Philip G. Minkler, and although I am certain my name does not ring any bells, I was stationed in Camp Pendleton for four years, which were some of the best years of my life. The bad came with the good, the worst with the best. I spent four years out of trouble and felt I was accomplishing something greater than myself. I met some of the best men and friends, many whom I still contact after being honorably discharged. One friend even moved across the country to help me with personal problems.
He received his letter of involuntary recall before I did. I was in Missouri on October 16th, 2008, going through my involuntary recall screening. By the time I returned from the day trip, he was packing to leave. We were, in fact, good Marines. Although we knew we weren’t going to pursue a career in the military, we knew we were there for a purpose. True to our word and the contract we signed, we trained and taught, then rose and fought.
While I was in Missouri, I recall you were outside of the mess area answering a few recalled Marines’ questions. I was behind the group, listening. What I heard was a good Sergeant Major giving good Marines information. More importantly, an honest word. Still more importantly, hope. We heard there was a chance we would not be recalled. Grateful for the blind luck of having an EAS date that didn’t make the cut, we were jovial.
Still, like all good things, joviality quickly turned to concern. Concern turned to worry. There were, in fact, still friends of ours that did not share our luck of an EAS date. One doesn’t rejoice until all friends are rejoicing.
After phoning my recalled brothers, I realized that they are not the Marines–or men–I once knew. They had changed. Before leaving for duty, they were adamant on finishing their promises to the Corps. Looking at the bright side, they planned to save money and were using the recall to propel their futures forward, instead of looking at it as a setback. Now, they’re broken, unwilling to serve with their once steady hand and mind. These were the same men that were awarded silver stars, purple hearts, and combat action ribbons. Heroism comes from heroes, and heroes come from courage. Courage was given to us by the knowledge that the Corps was behind us, like an entity,. An entity that has since stopped handing it out to those who would need it most.
There is a reason for this sudden change in their outlook. There is a reason for two of them to attempt suicide, just as there was a reason for a close friend, tragically, to have succeeded. There is also a reason for why four-year Sergeants would seriously consider going UA, and for why they don’t sound the same, why they act differently. There is a reason why they’re thinking of a revolution of sorts. There is a reason why they want to turn to the media. There is a reason why this open letter, after its arrival to Missouri, will be submitted to online news sites and blogs.
This letter is not about the politics of the recall nor the justifications for one. This letter is about the other side of the contract. When we signed, we had expectations that the establishment we had joined would do their part in caring for its members. While I witnessed this care in active duty, any care has yet to be seen by a recalled Marine. Now, I was spared the recall. Meaning, I don’t know the entire story. I can’t presume to speak for them all. But what I do know scares me.
The unit that greeted the recalled Marines met them with almost frank hostility. After assimilation, it became apparent to every single soul that they were not needed. Not a single Marine could tell them where they were going or what they would be doing. Units that they went to told them they didn’t need them and that they’d be placed in a different unit. That unit also didn’t need them, but instead put them in platoons not catered to their MOS. Hopping from unit to unit, platoon to platoon, they were wayward travelers in need of answers. Answers never came.
Redundant tests were being held. One doesn’t need to take yearly tests like the PFT twice in three months. It’s not that the tests are too challenging, it’s that by doing this game over and over again, it only highlights the inexperience of their leaders. What they see is incompetence From their experience – in our own base mind you – they’re confident that a patrol overseas will surely lead to their ultimate end. They’d rather die in our own country than overseas with their current command. This is not an ultimatum, this is what they are thinking. For it to be an ultimatum, somebody else must be listening.
They were told they were not allowed to take pre-deployment leave, not allowed to see their families before going overseas. Infuriated, one of the Marines had to call MOBCOM to let somebody know about this before he was finally permitted to take leave. Still, the other Marines will not be seeing their families. In a place like this, one cannot help but compare it to a prison. To them, it’s as if the command is inventing policy to allow enough time to get checkboxes checked, with complete disregard for the Marine as a person and their families as their lifeline. Even with all of the family readiness programs we now have in the Corps, it only takes a few leaders to tarnish them and instill doubt about their effectiveness to all involved.
Speculation arises among them about how the command that is leading them could be so ill-hearted and performing this way. It’s no secret that it is a reservist unit, filled with men who are not accustomed to carrying out the goals set for them. When high officers are platoon commanders and high enlisted act like Sergeants, it creates the idea that they are in a unit that was put together overnight. Surely, there is a reason why people are where they are. Whether it be low enlistment and reenlistment rates, unexpected orders or something unknown behind the eyes of us all. The end result, however, is a poorly functioning unit.
The remainder of their stories include how gear inspections were handled, long work hours, poor living situations–but honestly they were already prepared for these conditions. Not being prepared for their command is what makes expected problems like these agitate them.
These are good Marines, good men now lost. They believe the Corps has turned its back on them. At most, they expect to be let go. At the very least, though, they expect the Corps to rise up and own its part of the contract – to provide its Marines with basic needs, apart from checking the box when the Corps provides gear. It should be providing them with the assurance that their command will do everything in its power to prepare the unit as a whole for their next endeavor. It should be providing them the same courage that enabled them to once be heroes. If you were once a Marine, you are always a Marine. Now, if you are a recalled Marine, you are a forgotten Marine.
If you do one thing today, please take heed to this letter and consider how much this letter means to those who are relying on the machine to be working. We want to serve, we want to live.
Semper Fidelis,
Philip G. Minkler, Sgt
E-mail: pminkler@gmail.com
