Like Lt. Dan’s ancestors the Cherrys
have served in nearly every war in American history: the Revolutionary War, War
of 1812 at New Orleans, the Civil War, World War II, Vietnam, and Desert
Storm. The only exception was World War
I. Unlike Lt. Dan’s story, no one got
killed, but that’s not the only reason why I joined the Marine Corps. It was to be a calculated economic risk and
an adventure not a job and at 26 I was running out of time.
That awful job I had in Kansas City
was a dead ender; bad boss, no chance for advancement or improvement, and
boring. When I joined up in 1975 I was
making the princely sum of $3.85 an hour in Materials Management with no chance
of overtime, but the work was steady, had good benefits, and was first shift. I worked on the theory of joining as a
reserve with the possibility of transferring to another department with higher
pay when I completed basic and MOS training.
I knew someone in Building Maintenance who had already joined the Green
Berets at the ripe old age of 33 and he made it.
I’d been thinking about enlisting
since late fall 1974. My first choice of
service was the Navy as a Naval Flight Officer, but after thorough eye tests I
was rejected. My second choice was
joining the Marines as an officer, but the same results came back. I was told somewhere along the way that
entering Marine Corps officers don’t wear glasses, so I enlisted. If there was Lasik surgery in those days, I
would have been an officer.
AFEES, the Armed Forces Examination and Examination Service at Kansas City’s Union Station, had the best color brochures
and the Marines had those dress blues. I
knew someone from college who said they were the reason why he joined. Perhaps I exaggerate, but I did see the
recruiter at AFEES and he suggested I sign up, of course, and take the entrance
tests there. I could visit my future
duty station, Hq. Co. 24th Marines, for an interview with the
regimental commander until the test results came back.
Induction took about a week because
of all those tests and I recall at least three separate oath takings. “Now, are you sure you want to do this?” There
was a big bunch of Hippies wearing high heels who went to the Army and a smaller group
that went to the Air Force and Navy. The
remaining five or so of us went to the Marines.
I finally passed the eye test. I
remember the sound chamber which reminded me of the gas chamber in the pen at
Jefferson City. My personal opinion was
that it was also a test for claustrophobia.
The red light exam was for Navy recruits only. Walking like a duck eliminated a few people
because they didn’t have basic leg strength.
When 50 of us lined up for the hernia test the doctor said, “You may
think I enjoy this, but I assure you, I don’t!”
The written tests were designed not
for intellectual ability, but to discover a recruit’s vocational aptitude. The funny thing is that I was given the same
tests again at MCRD, San Diego. After
about a week and passing all the tests and with papers in hand I joined several
other inductees at the minivan parked outside AFEES for
the trip to the airport. It was the
beginning of a long story familiar to millions of young Americans, but their
stories are unknown because they seldom write about them.
