I had to double-check my math this morning; surely my calculations were off. But the numbers don’t lie. Thirty-five years ago today, I walked off the “grinder” in San Diego and became a United States Marine.
I don’t recall every word from the speaker that day at MCRD San Diego, but one sentiment stuck: he called recruit training “the toughest challenge we offer young men during peacetime.” While decades of life and personal experience have since taught me otherwise, it certainly felt like the ultimate test at the time.
One of my clearest memories is my parents’ interaction with Major General Grinalds, who would later serve as the 18th president of The Citadel. He was remarkably gracious, chatting with my father — a Korean War Air Force veteran — as if they were old friends. I remember watching them, locked in the position of attention, absolutely petrified. It’s funny now, but not at the time. Meanwhile my mom somehow convinced the General and his wife to pose for a photo. I am pretty sure the General actually felt bad for me.
The past 35 years have been a whirlwind of opportunity, challenge, success, and failure. Yet through it all, my time in the Marine Corps remains the bedrock of my resilience.
There is no other accomplishment of which I am more proud.
Semper Fi.