Marines

NOTE: This is raw and unedited; I dare not expect most to understand it, and even fewer to give heed to its content. If this is your first encounter with my ramblings, I suggest you skip ahead to something more relevant and polished.



At first I couldn't figure out why it bothered me so much that some Marines from my unit found out about these scribblings. And I can only speculate as to how this came about. "Why write what you don't want someone to read?"

I suppose it is this, at least in part: I try to put so little of myself into this place, this group, this Corps, because I'm so certain that they will CRUSH whatever they get their hands on. And this is valid, for such people are required for such times and such places. “Good people sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” And so I write. But into my writing I POUR MYSELF because I know that the people back home (for whom this page is originally intended), the few who take the time to read this, anyway, will at the very least remain silent out of courtesy and discretion. The guys out here, however, are more inclined to view my transparency as a weakness, a chink in my armor, a throat protector unbuttoned on my flak (or an exposed "quick release").

Gentlemen, believe as you will. We differ in many ways, you and I; and in many ways we are the same. But I LOVE to write, to teach, to train, to preach, and to share from my experiences: both from my successes which bring much joy, and from my failures which have brought me so much pain. And I believe this gift benefits others. It is what I was created to do, what I was designed to do, and it is what I DESIRE to do with all the years of my life to the GLORY OF MY GOD.


"But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams."
--W.B. Yeats