The Making of a Marine

We got off the bus at Parris Island with orders in hand. There were no smiles, only silence, which we could not understand. Drill instructors barked, their voices fierce. Testing our minds, their shouts would pierce. I was the little guy; all eyes were on me To pass out chrome domes and cartridge belts as quickly as could be. They played their games to break us down, making us more assertive about wearing the crown. We were located near a mess hall, and hunger soon grew. But eating was something we’d never had a chance to do. Twelve hours passed—or was it more? Time blurred in obedience, and our minds were sore. Then a sharp and vile smell arose—not from the mess hall—and it lingered a while. A puddle formed, weaving the floor, Spreading fast, reaching shoes, and more. We glanced around, avoiding the blame. It was a silent pact that no one would name. Relief came loud—a door swung wide, and a towering figure stepped inside. A Smoky Bear hat, nightstick in hand, He growled commands we’d soon understand. Lion, bear, and wildcat combined, He reshaped hearts and hardened minds. "Follow me," his voice declared, "We'll forge Marines who’ll be prepared. Use nature’s lessons, endure the strain; together, we’ll thrive through joy and pain." And so, we followed, giving our all, from shining seas to duty’s call. He taught us honor, love, and pride, fighting for freedom side by side. Then came my orders—Vietnam’s shore, a battle awaited, and I was ready for war. We were staged in Okinawa, and I paused to speak with some of the locals whose truths made my spirit weak. They spoke of America, harsh and cold, Words that enraged but left me bold.“How dare they insult the land I defend? I’m a proud Marine and truly America’s friend!” Their honesty stung, their words were clear, yet their demeanor held no sneer. They cared not for height, color, or name. To them, humanity was all the same. “Do you think,” they asked, “our words mean you? You’re black and almost an American, and your heart feels true. If ugliness spreads and shapes your view, Then that ugliness will surely belong to you.” Their wisdom lingered, a seed in my mind, Teaching me truths both harsh and kind. I still fought for my country and stood my ground as the lessons of unity resound. From Parris Island to battles abroad, we learned to follow, endure, and applaud—to protect the freedoms we hold so dear and face the world without any fear. After the war, many years have passed, and I finally came home by God's grace at last. I never forgot the words they spoke to me in Okinawa, wondering if they were wrong or right. They were sometimes so horrifying that I could not sleep at night. Now, after observing others, I believe patriots unveil their true meaning of patriotism to me; the words spoken in Okinawa become easier to see.