Say Anything Blog

Thank you, Colonel Ray for thirty years of service. Thank you for your heroism. Thank you for your leadership. Thank you for helping to make the Corps what it is today. You will be missed and never forgotten.

And thanks for standing between us and them. All should be grateful.

Rodney, kinda’ makes me want to grab that 45 Captain Ray had in his holster and put AV out of his misery.

“To love is not to stare steadfast at one another...it is to look forward, in the same direction.”
Saint-Exupéry

laydownsally writes:

kinda’ makes me want to grab that 45 Captain Ray had in his holster and put AV out of his misery.

Sally, no direct comparisons need be made.  We all know the score when it comes to our various and sundry parlor pinks.

Out Here
Rodney G. Graves

Ceterum censeo Parthia esse delendam
Latin: “Furthermore, Parthia (Persia aka modern day Iran) should be destoyed”

RG: You posted a picture of a man smoking a cigar! Have you no shame! Think of the children!

A troll is someone who only wants to stir up trouble, not have an honest debate.  Some signs that a poster is a troll:
* Dodges questions from other posters * Refuses to give sources
* When one of its arguments is shown to be false, either ignores the proof or moves the goalposts.  Heh. (From the LGF faq)

Proof,

Take a close look at my picture in the sidebar.  It should explain my reticence when it comes to criticizing someone over cigar smoking.  Hell, given half a chance I’d buy him a cigar and a drink!

Out Here
Rodney G. Graves

Ceterum censeo Parthia esse delendam
Latin: “Furthermore, Parthia (Persia aka modern day Iran) should be destoyed”

Take a close look at my picture in the sidebar.

At least you have the decency to hide behind dark glasses, obviously ashamed of consuming tobacco in public!

A troll is someone who only wants to stir up trouble, not have an honest debate.  Some signs that a poster is a troll:
* Dodges questions from other posters * Refuses to give sources
* When one of its arguments is shown to be false, either ignores the proof or moves the goalposts.  Heh. (From the LGF faq)

Proof,

That’s my back yard.  Hardly public.  The shades were there to keep excessive light from bothering me as I was drinking coffee whilst reading SayAnything on my Treo755p.

Out Here
Rodney G. Graves

Ceterum censeo Parthia esse delendam
Latin: “Furthermore, Parthia (Persia aka modern day Iran) should be destoyed”

Most of America’s finest warriors - the United States Marine Corps.

Respect also goes out to America’s other fine warriors - Navy SEALs.

May God Bless Colonel Eddie S. Ray. Enjoy your life Colonel. You’ve earned it.

OOO-Rah!

...for great justice

Colonel Eddie Ray is a true American hero… quite an inspiring legend for our country to look up to

What you want to bet he could call cadence, while running, with that stogie firmly in place.

Una Salus Victus Nullam Sperare Salutem

2H9,

I ain’t stupid!  No bet!

Go run that past some of the <acronym title="those who espouse the chicken shit standard without having served">pigeon shit</acronym> <acronym title="ellinas, woof, AV, Hannitized">platoon</acronym>.  They may be stupid enough to bite… Then again I rather doubt they would honor the debt after losing…

Out Here
Rodney G. Graves

Ceterum censeo Parthia esse delendam
Latin: “Furthermore, Parthia (Persia aka modern day Iran) should be destoyed”

Momma-anna-Poppa was-a lyin in Bed!

Momma rolled over to Papa and said..!

.....

....

Some of you know how it goes.

...for great justice

Model T Ford
and a tank full of gas
,,,,,,,,

Talk about Golden Oldies! And don’t even get me started on Jody.

Una Salus Victus Nullam Sperare Salutem

He and Chesty Puller, whom I once briefly met, were two of a kind, hard assed, gung-ho Jarheads. Another one of their kind was my Sergeant Major at 29 Palms, he had an ashtray that was molded like a man’s hand, palm side up with the middle finger extended. When you said something that irritated him, officer or enlisted, he hit the desk and the middle finger wagged up and down by a spring between the knuckles, to give the finger emphasis. He always made his point clear.

I don’t care how tough you were or what your rank, no one gave him any shit - ever!

One WW-II Gunnery Sergeant I knew was about 5’5” and maybe 140 pounds, red haired and one bad ass. On Tarawa, when his position was overrun by the Japanese, their soldiers running past him stuck their bayonets into his flesh to see if he was alive - seven good wounds. He never made a sound, when the Japanese once again got pushed back by the Marines, blood still flowing Gunnery Sergeat Reid just got up and started fighting again. He was such a tough leatherneck, it took me six months until I stopped looking up at him and thinking he was seven feet tall.

God that generation of Marines were tough, really tough, scared the shit out of you. But, they made a lot of us soft handed and headed baby faced Marines into professional soldiers, smart and tough. If not, they would kick the crap out of you until you learned to fight back and get tough. At the time it was not amusing, years later I treasure every moment.

No matter the age or state of health, for a military man it is always glorious to tilt at windmills, rescue a fair Dulcinea and be a gallant knight in armor in a glorious cause.

If not, they would kick the crap out of you until you learned to fight back and get tough.

I don’t know if is a trick of human perception, or just vagaries of the times, but it seemed to me that the Corps was changing from the time I first set foot in the yellow footprints to the time I drove offbase years later with a seabag in the trunk.

I remember trying to run my Platoon the way I’d seen it run when I first came in, but even attempting that was risking deep kim-shee with the Brass. 

For the most part the troops might have hated you at the moment, but later you would hear bragging about so-and-so being so tough (on them) .

I think most expected it, perhaps even relished it, since they’d joined up with Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children and no one else.  I would’ve hated to disappoint them with gentle and tender treatment—and I didn’t.

A big mistake with other branches was the coddling.  Perhaps it catered to the mindset of the kind of troop that would run toward the sound of guns.  They were young men, wanting to prove themselves, a challenge, but only asked for a fair shake.

The fairness, I think was the bottom line cutting score.  Be as tough as you like on them, but be fair and be consistent.  If you played favorites then the troops would simmer.  Not good.

There were many years before the Corps and there have been many years since the Corps, but those years were the most intense of my life.

...for great justice

Even while I was still serving things were changing, weapons, uniforms, training standards and tough consequences if a Drill Instructor or senior NCO ever caused an enlisted man real harm. But, first you are right that men going into the Marine Corps, at least then and even today to some degree wanted to be the toughest SOB’s in the neighborhhood by enduring Corps training and if possible combat. My buddy volunteered to carry the BAR in Nam, he was crazy!

When I started the training was hell and occasionally we got our asses kicked good, but only a sissy would complain. I survived basic, being short and naive, by asking for the biggest and toughest guy for Pugil Stick training, after I knocked him down, I dropped my pugil stick and just went bug nuts hitting the guy in the face while he was on his back, until the NCO’s pulled me off. I was scared the whole time, but I left a good impression and after that earned enough respect to make it through with my face pretty close to what it looked like when I started.

My brother and I at different times were trained in Force Recon (Pendleton), 20 mile runs before breakfast were common, full pack runs up hills, wading in the surf with full packs, etcetera. My brother actually enlisted in the Coast Guard first, did well, but couldn’t stand his younger, baby brother (me) surviving Marine Corps training. So, after his hitch in the Coasties, he joined the Corps, three tours in Nam, a host of medals, and both emotional and physical scars that plague him to this day.

Today the training is still damn tough and the Corps still atracts men that want to be bad asses; but I guess I’ll always think I had to endure more, I had to be tougher, but my late son, grandson and nephew have made it through the training and they tell me it was no Sunday School picnic!

No matter the age or state of health, for a military man it is always glorious to tilt at windmills, rescue a fair Dulcinea and be a gallant knight in armor in a glorious cause.

Yet another great Marine, Colonel Eddie S. Ray.

Communism is evil