Follow me . . .

2nd Lieutenant Dempsey commanded the third platoon, Company E, 2nd Battalion, 8th Marines, but Staff Sergeant Randall J. Wentworth led it. Staff Sergeant Wentworth was a veteran of the Korean War, during which he earned the Purple Heart Medal. He knew his job well enough, but he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the house. The lieutenant was smart enough to keep out of the way and allow Wentworth to do his job; in fact, we seldom saw the lieutenant, even when in the field. He was there . . . he just kept out of the way. The strength of our platoon was in the squad and fire team leaders. Wentworth directed the squad leaders, the squad leaders directed the fire team leaders, and the fire team leaders directed us. If Wentworth was anything, he was stubborn. When he said to do something, he meant it. If the platoon failed to accomplish a task to Wentworth’s satisfaction, we would do it over until it did meet his expectation.

During peacetime, Marine infantry companies train, train, and train. The axiom “we sweat in peace to avoid bloodshed in war,” was true within the 8th Marines. If we were not in the field practicing tactical movements, being physically conditioned, and developing teamwork, then we were on one of dozens of firing ranges practicing with weapons. Echo Company never rode anywhere, we marched . . ., and it didn’t matter how far. We also practiced the art of embarkation, whether “mounting out” on land, at sea, or in the air. We were tested on how quickly we could get ready for deployment, which as it happens, is the mission of the United States Marine Corps — First to Fight.

Landing exercises were the most difficult of our training cycle, and perhaps the most expensive. In order to have a successful landing, which involved massive amounts of support across a wide range of combat services it is first necessary to load ships with all the gear that is organic to a rifle company. I remember being amazed by the expertise of our embarkation personnel; it was a difficult task, and critical. Whatever requires off-loading first goes aboard ship last. High in the order of what needs to come off the ship first is ammunition, supporting arms, food, and medical supplies. So the point is that landing exercises are vital to maintaining a high state of readiness within the Marine Corps.

Generally, Marines hate going aboard ship. We’ve always believed that the Navy is only good for taking us to places where we don’t want to go, and putting us in places where people are shooting at us. And the Navy steals our stuff. In the past, the Navy has left us in very hostile environments to fend for ourselves while they went off somewhere for a nice holiday. Or so we suspected. To be fair, though, the Navy really doesn’t like Marines aboard their ships, either. We get in the way, clog up the place, and make chow lines longer. And we steal things. Neat things.

Still, landing exercises are very exciting, and what makes them stimulating is that they are inherently dangerous. Marines are killed and injured all the time during combat training. Some times, amphibious assault vehicles (formerly, landing vehicles, track) can swamp in a rough surf causing the loss of all hands. Marines fall from nets as they climb over the side of ships to get into landing craft, or sometimes waves cause the boats to crush Marines against the side of the ship. In spite of these dangers, it is inconceivable that anyone would think that we shouldn’t do these things; practice makes perfect – or nearly so.

We made two amphibious landings while I was in the 8th Marines. Understandably, the first assault was the most memorable. Echo Company was making its assault in LCUs, and it happens that Staff Sergeant Wentworth was riding in with our platoon. We circled around in the surf for what seemed a long time until the assault wave was formed. Some Marines got sick from the effects of the sea, as all landing craft were barely at steerage. As Marines vomited, other Marines got sick as well. Some people didn’t know enough not to puke into the wind; it was a form of sharing that I personally could have done without. Then at some signal, all boats headed for Onslow Beach, North Carolina. The cool wind and spray from the surf surrounded us . . . there seemed to be no escaping it. As the beach came closer, we were all ready to return to terra firma.

Finally, our craft collided with the beach, and some Marines lost their footing and fell to the deck. But unlike every Marine movie I have ever seen, the ramp didn’t drop. I looked over the side and all the other boats’ ramps had fallen, and the Marines were running on to the beach and making their assault. Not us; our ramp didn’t fall. And Staff Sergeant Wentworth was highly pissed off. He kept shouting at the coxswain, “Drop the g**damned ramp, squid!”

“It won’t go down, Sarge,” said the coxswain.

“Alright everybody, follow me . . .,” Wentworth shouted.

Where upon Wentworth leaped over the side of the LCU into the surf, where he promptly disappeared from view. And no sooner had he gone over the side of the boat, the ramp dropped.

Our squad leader said, “Let’s go Marines. Everybody out!” And we ran down the ramp, into light surf, and on to the shore. But then we saw Staff Sergeant Purdy wading out of the surf waving us back. We stopped our “assault,” and we heard Wentworth screaming at the top of his voice, “Get your dumb asses back on that boat.”

With some confusion, we all ran back on the landing craft, and with Staff Sergeant Wentworth standing before us, soaking wet, and as mad as I’ve ever seen anyone, he said, “G**dammit, I said to follow me, and follow me you f*****g will. Everyone—over the side NOW!”

And every one of us went over the side of that LCU, into the surf. And even though we were all as soaking wet as Staff Sergeant Wentworth, it didn’t improve his mood for the rest of the day. Nor mine.

What a great day that was.

Copyright, 2005