Company Gunny

Eugene B. Sledge served in the Marine Corps during the Second World War (1942—1946). He later became a university professor and a noted author. Dr. Sledge may have been the first to coin the term “old breed” in the title of his book, With the Old Breed at Peleliu.

The term “old breed” applies to Marines who belonged to a different era in Marine Corps history; they were the “old breed” because they belonged to a considerably smaller, pre-World War II Corps of Marines when the commandant was a major general and when most pre-war veterans knew one another. They included men like John A. Lejeune, Smedley D. Butler, and Lewis B. Puller. They participated in the so-called banana wars and various other expeditionary operations best characterized by the Marine Corps Small Wars Manual. They served aboard ships of the line as part of the ship’s Marine Detachment and with Marine Barracks at every major naval base, and at exotic locations such as China. Who has not heard of the gallant Marines during the Boxer Rebellion? Together, the Old Breed helped to transition the Marine Corps from small expeditionary forces into six infantry divisions and three air wings.

Later, Major Andrew Greer published an excellent history about Marines of the 1st Marine Division during the opening stages of the Korean War (1950—1951); he called it The New Breed, indicating Marines who served after World War II. I hasten to add, however, that these “new breed” of Marines were trained and molded by officers and noncommissioned officers who served in the old Corps. So it is difficult for me to make a massive distinction between the two groups, other than what I think is a superficial dividing line between 1945 and 1950.

When I joined the Marine Corps in 1963, all of our senior officers and most senior NCOs were World War II veterans. For example, our company first sergeant was a World War II veteran, but the company gunnery sergeant was a veteran of the Korean war — combat veterans of two conflicts, separated by one rank. My platoon sergeant was a Staff Sergeant with 26 years of service: he served in both World War II and Korea. He was an exceptional field Marine — who at some point in his career found himself in an uncomfortable position with the hierarchy. It was common in those days to find Marines with alcohol problems. It wasn’t unusual to find senior NCOs working through multiple marriages; most women simply refused to accept a secondary role to the exigencies of the Marine Corps. My squad leader was a corporal who won the Silver Star medal in Korea.

The Marine Corps has always been an interesting collection of individuals. Most people who joined the Corps in the early 60s (before Vietnam) came from humble beginnings. Some joined because they ran afoul of the law and judges gave them the opportunity to sign up in the Marines, or face jail time. Some people were well educated; most were not. Almost everyone could sign their names, but not many people could write a paragraph. Still, no matter where these people came from, by the time they graduated from boot camp, they were United States Marines. Whether they made the Corps a career, most went on to lead successful (albeit, not perfect) lives. Some gave their country all they had to give, but as the saying goes — everyone gave some part of themselves to their country and to the Corps.

And this brings me to the story of the Company Gunny. In a line company, the “company gunny” is the operations and logistics ramrod supporting three rifle platoons and a weapons platoon. As the senior line NCO, he usually conducted company formations when the officers had nothing to say to us, which was most of the time. We had three formations every day, Monday through Friday. There were two formations on Saturday, but none on Sunday unless the company was on “standby.”

At the beginning of formation, usually at 0600, platoon sergeants would report their platoons “present and accounted for” or they would state, “Two Marines absent,” and then there would be hell to pay when the two miscreants finally showed up. More often than not, they were “brown baggers” who had car trouble on the way to the base — which was an interesting story, but never relevant to the fact that they were absent from duty. After the muster, the company gunny would “pass the word.”

The “word” was usually something about the training schedule, or it would single individual Marines to report to the company First Sergeant after chow. With our company gunny, the “word” was never anything he had to read — because he couldn’t read. He tried it a couple of times, but his embarrassment was so great that the skipper (company commander) told him to “wing it.” Then, after formation, the company gunnery sergeant would order platoon sergeants to march their Marines to the mess hall.

One morning, we were all standing in formation and the company gunny was giving us the “word.” Then he said, “Alright, listen up. PFC Jones, 2nd Platoon — report to the company office after chow. The Red Cross says your mother died.”

After chow, the very sorrowful and angry Jones reported to the First Sergeant; he wasn’t happy with the way the Gunny informed him about the death of his mother. Somehow, the battalion commander found out about the Gunny’s lack of etiquette and shortly afterwards, both the company commander and the gunny were visiting with the colonel in his office. The Gunny received a somewhat in-depth lecture about how important it is to notify Marines of such tragedies using tact, humanity, and concern for how the Marine might react to such devastating information. The Gunny indicated he understood and the colonel dismissed him. The company commander stayed a while longer.

Several months went by — business as usual in the 8th Marines. We were again in formation, the company gunny was giving us the word, and we were getting ready to march to morning chow.

“Alright, listen up,” said the Gunny, speaking more deliberately than usual. “Everyone who still has a father alive — one step forward, MARCH! Not so fast, Corporal Wilcox.”

Drill: Necessity or Anachronism?

By LtCol William C. Curtis

If one were to ask the general citizenry what images come to mind when they think of U.S. Marines, I suspect that two responses would predominate. The first would be that of Marines as warriors — flak jackets, helmets, weapons — crossing a beach in the din of battle. The other would be that of Marines resplendent in Blues with brass glittering, shoes gleaming, marching together — the apex of soldierly bearing and discipline.

Well, of course, neither of these images accurately portrays our Corps. The Marine in combat is, in addition to the infantryman, the pilot of an F/A-18, the crew chief of a CH-46, a cannoneer, a truck-driver - a lost of specialists far too long for me to provide here. Suffice to say in today's world the infantryman alone cannot prevail on the battlefield. It takes a wide variety of smart, hard-working, courageous Marines in all specialties to achieve the synergism necessary to ensure success in combat.

So too, the image of our resplendent Marines in Blues, as epitomized by the world renown troops of Marine Barracks, Washington, D. C., also do not reflect the majority of our Corps. Most Marines do not own Dress Blues much less spend the hours necessary to achieve the highest level of sharpness in drill and ceremony.

The point that I am driving toward is not what the general populace thinks of Marines, rather what Marines think if themselves and how that self-perception influences what they do and how they react.

In recent years, there has been much discussion about our capability to engage in combat. It needs no reinforcement to thoughtful professionals that the Marine Corps' very existence depends upon its ability to fight when called upon. The world must know that we consistently maintain a high level of skill and that when we must, we will fight with dogged tenacity and adroitness. I am concerned here, however with the second part of the equation; that is, the "spit-and-polish" image.

Of course, there is an argument that close-order-drill, ceremonies, and fancy uniforms are sugar coating or simply glitter that does not add to combat effectiveness. Some might even go as far as to posit that troops cannot be one-in-the-same "palace guards" and combat warriors. Further, in this high-tech age, it might seem ludicrous to require modern fighting men to participate in drills that found their origin in a very different age centuries ago.

Without any lessening of the main thrust of combat training and preparation for war, I remain convinced that drill, formations and a bit of ceremony add greatly to the esprit, morale, and cohesiveness that all commanders seek to engender in their fighting troops. I will quickly add that I do not espouse any increase in time allocated for such events; on the contrary, I am convinced that the positive forms of close-order-drill can (and should) be achieved without any decrease in combat training.

An example or two might better illustrate my point. With the vast increase of married personnel in recent years, the almost geometric rise in the number of military occupational specialties, the high tempo of operations and the numerous task organizations formed to meet commitments, many Marines are not really sure what they work for or what units they really belong to. These are examples of conditions that can breed a degree of laxity in the attitudes of some, and the toleration by others in an almost nine-to-five approach toward what they view as a job, rather than the profession of arms.

One way, both physically and psychologically to reinforce cohesiveness, discipline and a sense of martial esprit is to hold routine formations. I must emphasize that this does not mean drawn-out, stand-around, unproductive events. Rather, a brief formation — even within the smallest sections — will benefit all Marines. Noncommissioned officers will get to know their troops, learn how to inspect, critique, and compliment them publicly for jobs well done. In addition, the positive sense of belonging, of being part of a team is dramatically improved. Marines that habitually participate in well conducted, albeit brief formations are the better for it because along with “falling in,” there are expectations that must be met.

One can hardly imagine a more modest or less costly proposal. Whether a Marine is part of a section, squad, platoon, company, or squadron — no matter what the groupment — Marines ought to muster in formation daily whenever possible. These formations should be punctual, and conducted in a smart, soldierly manner by the designated leader. Poor organization, toleration of "sky-larking," or the absence of proper leaders would, of course, communicate a lack of discipline rather than reinforce positive values.

The formation must be brief. Thy allow leaders to confirm who is present, to evaluate military appearance, and to pass along information. A ceremony reinforces lawful obedience, and discipline. It is part of the bonding process that causes Marines to "stand together" in the chaos of battle.

Before casting aside my thoughts as those of someone trying to recapture silly traditions of years gone by, let me add that almost without exception the best combat troops of today still demand sharpness in drill and routine ceremony. Of the Falklands — 3 Commando Brigade (Royal Marines), two battalions of the Parachute Regiment, one battalion each of the Scots and Welsh Guards and a Gurkha battalion — all were thorough combat soldiers, and all insist on smartness in drill and ceremony. History is replete with examples of well-drilled units that excelled in combat — it is not a mere coincidence.

Traditionally, military formations are important functions at several levels. They allow leaders to account for their Marines, to ensure their readiness and suitability for on-going missions, provide a vehicle for movement to contact, and even include tactical formations. We do not hold formations when the bad guys are inside the wire — but it is certain that once we destroy the enemy, there must be an accounting of our Marines. Military formations are at the core of being a Marine.

William C. Curtis served in the U. S. Marine Corps for 32 years and now is an instructor at South Texas College where he lectures in United States History. The foregoing originally appeared in the Marine Corps Gazette, December 1988. Subsequently, it was incorporated into the Marine Corps Institute course of instruction, entitled The NCO Basic Nonresident Program, Professional Readings.