I don’t know what happened. The plan was to get a short nap from 7:30 to about 9:00 last night and then I would get up, read, watch some TV, get ready for tomorrow, and eat dinner. Well, it didn’t quite work out like that.

I woke up at 0730 this morning and the first thing that popped into my mind is that I had just slept a full 12 hours. I can’t remember the last time I slept that long and wondered what brought it on. The days thus far have not been that tough and although I woke up at 0545 to run for a half hour the last two days, there’s no excuse for such slothliness. If that isn’t a word, I just created it.

I knew this was not a day to throw in the can so I decided to keep to plan and go to Charleston. All I really knew about the town is that it’s where the recruits come in to when they arrive to go to boot camp. I found out there’s a little bit more to the city than that.

The first thing I learned is that the signs that point you to Charleston are lying bastards. I was told it was about an hour away but every time I saw a sign, it told me a different story which had nothing to do with logic. First it was about 73 miles and then it jumped down to fifty something. Then thirty something before jumping back up to forty something. Then it dropped to the teens, back up to twenties, down to one and then 16. I finally gave up and figured I’d get there when I got there.

When I finally rolled into what I thought was Charleston, it was a long street of lights and strip malls. I was beginning to think it was going to be a boring day and then I started feeling something else. Let’s just say that I pulled over to a Costco for the…. Good prices.

I wandered around Costco for awhile, staying within my comfort zone. You see, I was stepping out of the zone by going onto a strange town all alone, not knowing what I was going to find. I didn’t like that but I didn’t like sitting in my hotel room all weekend and I thought I might be able to have some kind of adventure. This was a big step for me so you should be duly impressed. I’ll wait until you finish gasping. Done? Good.

I rolled through the suburbia and headed to something called Old Town Charleston. This looked like the ticket I was looking for but I chickened out after going over a big bridge, thinking I was going to bypass the tourist crap I wanted to see. I took an exit and before I knew it, I was in some residential area I had no idea how to navigate. So now it’s just plain old wandering.

I went here, turned there, pulled a “yewi” a couple of times, and finally found the tourist heaven. There were shops galore with people everywhere. There were horse drawn carriages pulling tons of people around the historic site. In other words, I had found La Trapita de La Tourista. Good enough.

OK, this is what I was looking for but I had one problem. It was hot. I mean like surface of the sun hot but with more humidity. Being smarter than the average bear, I decided to cruise around to get the lay of the land while enjoying the A/C in my rented Pontiac Sunfire. Being dumber than the average idiot, it didn’t help much because I tend to get lost in a phone booth.

When I finally got tired of looking around through a windshield, I decided to get a parking space. OK, so we all understand, getting a free spot on the street in Charleston is akin to finding the Holy Grail in Dallas. It just ain't gonna happen and I accepted this after roaming around for 45 minutes. I had to suck up my cheap ass nature and find a pay lot. It wasn’t as bad as I thought because it was only $6 for the day and reasonably near where I thought I wanted to go. Of course this was a Wild Ass Guess (WAG) of the grandest kind.

I park, fold the bills, cram them into a little box, and head off confidently in a direction I hoped would be the right one. I got lucky.

I had a short sleeve shirt, shorts, running shoes, a hat, sunglasses, my digital camera, and a bottle of water. I was prepared and laughing at the other people who looked like they had just sat in a sauna with a parka on. I was fresh, I was comfortable, I was strong. I was dragging ass in about an hour.

The first place I hit was an open market by a castle. Yes, you read right, a castle. I came upon this big open park and there were all these booths set up so I went to take a look. Right behind it was a monstrous castle building and I took a picture of it thinking it was something of historical interest.

The shops were not all that interesting for me; mostly tourist fodder that I wasn’t too thrilled about. All the vendors looked like the Salvador Dali painting where everything is limp. Now if I would have needed wind chimes, honey, carvings, or the like, I would’ve been in the right place. As it was, I just zoomed through twice (just in case) but knew there was better shopping elsewhere. Because everyone knows a guy on his own in a strange town just screams “shopping.”

After the quick run through, I decide to find out what the big castle was so I started making a perimeter recon. I took the wrong way because it wasn’t until the last side of the structure did I discover what it really was. The mammoth structure I was so impressed with ended up being an Embassy Suites hotel. I felt like a mammoth idiot.

It was time to find the real interesting area and was lucky enough to stumble upon King Street. I thought about getting a horse-drawn tour but then I reconsidered because I figured it would just tell me about a lot of historical crap I wasn’t really thrilled about. I’m not all that impressed with really old stuff unless it’s famous and I define “famous” by my own terms. I didn’t think this applied which would likely get me lynched in this place.

So a-walkin’ I did go, up and down King Street where there was approximately 145 billion little shops. The sum total that caught my interest was about 2.4. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feign interest just to escape the blinding heat. “Ohhh, the Discovery Channel store. Hmmm, $150 for a globe. Interesting…”

So I leap-frogged from place to place to get out of the heat. I was accosted numerous times by Italian ice vendors who just happened to be cute college girls. I discovered that I am immune to this form of salesmanship for the simple fact that I find the practice insultingly obvious. Like I’m going to shell out $3 for shaved ice with some sugar-flavored syrup on it just because a hottie is hawking it.

I bought about $700 worth.

Just kidding, I don’t even like Italian ice and I had the A/C of the shops to keep me alive. If someone was going to be obvious, it was going to be me.

For lunch, I found a neat little place where the menu was based on old movies. The real draw was that they had free internet so I ordered up a Casablanca with fries (turkey, ham, bacon sub sandwich) and about a gallon of sweet tea.

I was out of the heat. I had a huge sub sandwich with fries and ice cold sweet tea. I had internet connectivity. I almost cried.

I grabbed one of those free tourist booklets and it had a map in it. For the first time, I realized I was on a peninsula. I also realized I had a better chance at making my way around the town using a globe than I did this map but I kept it with me just in case of emergency. What emergency this would help me in, I don’t know but I felt better with it in my pocket.

After filling up on everything, I had to accept that I had to brave the heat once again. Summoning up all I could muster, I got back out on the street and continued my day of doing nothing but walking in the heat.

After getting bum directions from one of the cute Italian ice hotties, I ended up surrounded by huge Catholic churches. Not being Catholic but listening and watching Angela’s Ashes recently, I somehow felt some kind of random guilt. The churches were enormous, old, and more than slightly intimidating. This was not King Street and I should feel ashamed of myself for soiling these grounds without reason, even if unintentionally. I said a few Hail Somethings and quickened my pace.

Walking by a little alcove, I spotted an elderly black lady weaving some straw and she had a bunch of finished wicker baskets on display. This looked interesting and something that my daughter might be interested in. I struck up a conversation and asked how much the little basket was. I was not prepared for the answer.

What? Was this Rumplestiltskin’s grandmother and spun threads of gold in these things?

To be polite, I asked about the price of the other, bigger baskets and the price hike was consistently astronomic across the board. But the longer I stood there, the cheaper the price got, as she assured me she was giving me a special deal. But I didn’t have the decades to stand there which would have been required to get it near what my cheap ass was willing to pay.

But now I was stuck in an awkward social situation of trying to escape without getting involved in a haggling duel. So I took the brave path and proceeded to lie out my teeth, telling here I had to go to the bank, and making a joke about if she accepted cash. I felt kind of bad but not bad enough to pay painful, exorbitant prices for wicker baskets that would gather dust on my daughter’s nightstand. But again, the churches spoke to me and I got out of the Guilt Quarter as fast as my legs would carry me.

The next place of interest was called Market Street where, if the name gives it away, was an outdoor market. It reminded me a lot of Pikes Place Market in Seattle but with less ambiance and more flea market vibe. I found a Oriental painted mask that I thought my daughter would love. For $8, I fell in love with it too. But I could find nothing for the boy, unless he might want a small block of crystal with a 3-D figure in the middle. I don’t know, it just didn’t scream “boy” and I don’t want him making soufflés on me as a result of my gift-buying tendencies.

The crowd swelled and I found myself elbow to elbow with a lot of sweaty tourists. Time to kill someone or bug out and since I’m not writing this from the Charleston City Jail, you can guess the outcome.

It was time for a beer and early enough that I could drink it, sweat it out of my system, and be able to drive. Normally I don’t like to drive at all the day I drink but I thought that I could manage if I gave myself enough lead time followed by a lot of water. With the heat, drinking plenty of water was no problem.

I found an Irish pub but going into it, it had no Coors Light. How they call themselves a bar and don’t serve Coors Light is beyond me. I thought it was on the liquor licenses. So I torched the place and left.

I found some place called Hurricanes that did have Coors Light but when I ordered a glass of water right after, the smartass bartender said “You have a Coors Light, don’t you?”

He actually turned out to be an OK conversationalist and gave me the lowdown of the town. It has a bunch of colleges in it and the female to male ratio hovers at about 7 to 1. Why I had never found a place like this when I was a teenager, I don’t know but now that I’m old and gray, I find myself in the candy store without a sweet tooth.

I not sure what exactly brought down the next couple of hours. Maybe the insulted local girl who found someone who was immune to her modem operendi of getting guys to buy her drinks. I told her I don’t buy girls drinks in bars unless she's my wife. I explained to her how dumb guys can be in this respect and if they really want to be associated with a girl who will form an opinion of a guy based on if he buys her drinks. She started in about the roles taught to them by southern catilian classes and I countered with informing her I was well-versed in gentlemanly protocol but if she was waiting for me to pay for her drinks, she was going to get mighty thirsty. This may partially explain my ostracism at bars in general. You be the judge.

Maybe it was the 23 year old who thought it was impressive to show everyone how she could tie knots in cherry stems that set the tone for the night. Within an hour she was down for the count in the bathroom defining what it means to making a donation from the bottom of her stomach.

Maybe it was talkative, chubby bar fly/naughty librarian with a political science and Spanish major shooting for that elusive law degree.

Or maybe it was the 4 years in high school JROTC and 2 years of college ROTC before discovering he had a problem with authority but is still considering going back although he’s getting near the age limit but doesn’t want to be a 30-year-old bartender.

Was it the English sailor who was not-so-slowly getting hammered and trying to answer the bar phone?

Possibly it was the guitarist who could play decently but whose words sounded like there was a towel wrapped around the mic.

But most likely it was the 35-year-old Marine father of 2 out of his element and wondering why he was in a smoke-filled bar full of these people when he could be back in his room doing something productive.

I officially accepted at that point that I am not of that crowd. I guess I’ve known it for awhile but just hadn’t accepted the obvious. I won’t miss it and realize I’d rather be home with my family or if that’s not possible, furthering myself through writing, reading, exercising, or some other positive endeavor. Maybe it would have been different if I had someone I knew to talk to but if my list above shows you what I had to choose from, my form of “getting lucky” intellectually was just about as possible as the more prevalent definition’s chances.

I drove home happier than ever for the gifts in my life. My wife, my kids, my career, and myself.

Jay Leno Monologue For Today

Friday, May 21, 2004

We had some more classes today and even here, I couldn’t help but have the “Friday Feel.” You know what I’m talking about, the feeling that it’s Friday and almost the weekend. It almost doesn’t feel like a day of work and no matter how bad it gets, it’s Friday and you are looking at two days off. I just love this feeling and I know I’m not alone. Compare his to the “Monday Mush” and you’ll see what I mean.

I don’t think the recruits have the same feeling. In fact, I know they don’t because I can remember it being a source of depression. I would remember what Friday’s used to mean to me and how everyone I knew were having the “Friday Feel” except me and my fellow recruits.

Today I went over and visited Chuck Taliano and had yet another good conversation with him. We talked about all sorts of stuff he told me that someone had come into the shop lately and said they had read about him on my webpage. What a strange connection that was: someone found my webpage, read the story about Chuck, and then mentioned it to him when visiting Parris Island. But it gets weirder.

A few days later, I got this email:

Dear Mr. Grose,

I didn't find your rank on your site so I'll have to address you as 'Mr.'.

I'm writing to thank you for your outstanding web site. My son completed the Crucible on Parris Island on Thursday, May 6. It's frustrating as a parent to know that your son has just been through the most difficult challenge of his life and you can't get any status as to how it went. I decided to do more detailed research on exactly what recruits do during the Crucible. So that day I did a search on 'Marine +Crucible' and your site was one of the Google hits. I was delighted by your boot camp stories. Seeing your pictures from Parris Island was even more of a treat. Then I saw that you had just been there in March. I scanned all of the pictures again knowing that my son may have been in one of them. But of course, they all look pretty much alike from a distance.

I liked your site content so much that I forwarded the link to my wife and suggested that she take a look. She loved it. She was so taken by your writing that she sent the link to her brother, a Navy vet. He loved it as well.

When we attended my son's Family Day on Thursday, May 14, we spent the afternoon with him touring the base. We spent a lot of time at the museum. There we met Sergeant T. I mentioned your web site and my experience with it and he smiled and we talked of it. He is well acquainted with it. He extended his hand to my son and wished him a sincere "Welcome aboard Marine!" I think that my son really appreciated that.

When my son got home to Michigan we told him of the site and the stories and encouraged him to take a look. He absolutely delighted in your boot camp stories. He couldn't get over the fact that even though you went to San Diego all those years ago, he could relate to everything that you wrote - especially 'The Chow'.

Then I told him to take a look at your PI pictures because you were there in March. Lo and behold - some of your pictures of drill on the Parade Deck were of my son's Platoon 2044. My son was able to point himself out in one of the columns. He is the tall thin fellow, 2nd recruit ahead of the recruit being chewed out by the DI at http://www.grose.us/pics/pi2004%20(45).jpg titled 'The DI is correcting the recruit as he marches. You never want to be "The One."' My son explained that the DI is Sergeant Crosby and the recruit being 'addressed' (or "The One") was one of Sergeant Crosby's 'favorites'.

The picture of 'A great pose of the lone DI. Classic stance.' (http://www.grose.us/pics/pi2004%20(46).jpg) was of his SDI SSGT Garcia. 2nd Battalion, E Company, Platoon 2044 was SSGT Garcia's last as SDI. My son told me that he volunteered for a second tour in Iraq. He also told me of one day shortly before the Crucible when they were doing PT and an officer drive up to SSGT Garcia (I can't remember the officers position at PI but my son told me), got out of the car, handed him a coin and shook his hand. My son explained the significance of the coin and that the recipient is expected to carry it with him always.

He said that, although he didn't see you there, he can remember exactly which day that was.

I think that my son has also sent you a letter but I decided that I also want to send you one of my own.

As I write this he is sitting at the airport in Charlotte, NC, waiting for his connecting flight to Jacksonville where he is going to Camp Gieger for MCT. I just want to thank you and let you know that your work has been some 'icing on the cake' for my family, and for my son in particular.

Sincerely,

(name witheld by Jason Grose)

After a conversation about his business, I offered to help Chuck out with any webpage help I could contribute. He was in the works of expanding his shop and had a few ideas involving a stand alone page or using a company that offer some of the services. I told him that I would help out in any capacity he needed once he decide which direction he would go.

I also got in contact with another Marine Captain who will be coming from California to participate in the Presidential Classroom program as a fellow instructor next month. Since we are the only two Marines participating, we worked out the uniforms we would bring and I was hoping to pick her brain about what to expect but she had never done it before either. But it was nice to make a point of contact. We promised to keep each other informed of anything we hear about the program.

Letterman's Top Ten List for today

Jay Leno Monologue For Today

Thursday, May 20, 2004

We got up this morning to run and it was clear, muggy, and warm. So unlike a morning at Parris Island.

The morning environment at Parris Island is very memorable. You have the humidity off the scale of course but the sounds are always the same. Birds chirping and recruits yelling in the distance. That’s it. No planes, car noise, or hustle and bustle. Only mugginess, birds, and recruits.

The running felt good and we got back after ½ hour of running, soaking wet. Nothing like a little dehydration to start off your day. The goal of the day was trying to load my body with water so I wouldn’t get a headache, or at least so that I wouldn’t look like a prune in the desert. Either or.

After getting showered, I met Eric and we fell into our normal routine we established the last time we were here, starting with going to the coffee shop.

The coffee shop is the Parris Island DI Mecca. Every time we go there, which is every morning, there is a recruit’s nightmare waiting at the coffee shop: A dozen caffeine-deprived Drill Instructors. There’s just something funny about hearing the coffee lady yell out some fruity coffee concoction and having the growl of a Drill Instructor respond.

Before we entered the coffee shop, Eric wanted to grab a few things from the convenience store next to it. But as fate would have it, they were renovating the store and it was closed. We knew this because there was a bevy of women waiting outside the door taking a break. I say “bevy of women” and I know you pictured a collection of potentially attractive females but let me assure you, the Stigion Witches we saw standing there was far from what is generally defined as attractive. Call it the 5 o’clock shadow on one or the immense, oh let’s go as far as to say galactic, girth of another but suffice it to say, we hoped that this was not the best that South Carolina had to offer.

Eric tried to smoothly pull some information out of them concerning the re-opening and without taking the cigarette out of their mouths, they flatly resisted his boyish charm. But we did find out that it was probably going to reopen tomorrow. And that ugliness does truly go to the bone.

This time our hosts set up a classroom for us to use that had a dozen computers and, most importantly, an air conditioner that worked like a champ. But there are two interesting notes about this place. First, it’s the Drill Instructor School computer lab so we are smack dab in the middle of stress central. I mean as if being on Parris Island isn’t stress-soaked to begin with, we have to be somewhere where they teach the stress to be applied.

Second, it is the old kindergarten so the bathrooms have sinks by my knees.

DI School Candidates and kindergarten. This place is a case study in dichotomy.

We taught one class and one class only. Everyone seemed to have some confusion over our schedule and the end result was that the “drop in” training did not work out so well. I should have known that unless people were ordered to show up, we’d be left dry. We had a few issues we solved to get ready for next week when we deploy our computer system on the incoming recruit company. They won’t know the difference. They will be busy wondering where they went wrong in life to be in the situation where a very irate and hairless demon is unloading the fury of hell onto him.

At lunch we hit the commissary. I tried to take it easy so that I could take advantage of my forced separation with Carrie’s cooking and lose some pounds. The will power was tested with the Little Debbie oatmeal cookies and the chips. That bitch just wouldn’t stop calling me. I did get some pretzel sticks because I’m only human, leave me alone! Oh, and I might have somehow gotten some frozen taquitos but that’s it. The rest was fruit, veggies, and soup. Now to just stay away from the snack attacks where I just lose it and drive to the store for an unfettered gobble fest.

When we called it a day, we decided to go sight seeing. I use that term very loosely because all we did was drive out the gate and kept going. The result was a very long ride through marshland. We had a good conversation, mostly talking about mostly 80’s and some 90’s songs and bands we remembered which was fed by the all-80’s station we found on the radio. It didn’t matter that we spent an hour driving through the most depressing environments I had ever seen only to come to a gated community where we had to turn around an head back.

We talked about the Talking Heads, Howard Johnson, the Eurythmics, Lisa Loeb, Natalie Merchant, Patty Smyth (could remember the band but she sang “The Warrior” and is married to Don Henley), Power Station, the B52s, Hootie, Pet Shop Boys, Thompson Twins (none of them named Thompson and none of them twins), Pat Benetar, The Motels, the Human League, and a host of others.

Eric had some work to get done in his room so I decided to go see the free movie on base. It happens they were playing “Taking Lives” and I had no idea what it was about or who starred in it. But the price was right so I went.

The good thing was the prices for the popcorn and soda. I got a small popcorn for $1 and the same for a medium root beer. The movie was free so I was in it for a whole two bucks.

The bad thing was that the air conditioning wasn’t working. I am not exaggerating that the temperature inside the theater was in the high 90’s if not topping 100 degrees. But I was there and had nothing else to do. What the hell, I’ll watch the movie.

The theater is a huge auditorium big enough to hold hundreds and hundreds of recruits. The screen is normal size but from the back row looks like a postage stamp. They hold graduations in there when there is inclement weather (and you know it has to be Biblical to be considered inclement here!).

Sitting there waiting for the movie and trying not to faint from heat and dehydration, I thought that they had not put the money in upkeep for this theater. I know money is tight everywhere but it will always be that way. Plus, this is the first exposure to the Corps families will see and it would be nice to put a better shoe on the foot put forward since they are giving the Corps their most precious possession.

The movie starred Angelina Jolie, Ethan Hawke, and Keifer Sutherland. I know it’s cliché but I have to say it. Angelina Jolie has some enormous lips and to see them on the big screen is somewhat disturbing. OK, a lot disturbing.

I must be some kind of male freak mutant. I just don’t get affected at all over Angelina Jolie. She’s supposedly this red hot male dream girl and was voted most sexy by VH1 but she does nothing for me. Maybe it’s the vile of blood, maybe it’s making out with her brother, maybe the PDA at every red carpet, but most likely, it has to do with the thought of her an Billy Bob. MMM Hmmm, that’s probably it, I reckon’.

The movie was not bad but not great. Added to the heat, the projectionist was having a hard go of getting the picture on the screen. It was a bit out of focus and too wide for the screen. It seemed to be smashed a little vertically and too wide horizontally. I thought about demanding my money back but then I remembered.

Coming back to my room, I cleaned up a bit and read some of my book before going to sleep. We were meeting in the morning to go run so I called it a night with the thought that I’d get about 6 hours of sleep before I had to get up and face the mugginess. I made the mental statement “Another day in Parris Island under my belt” and then realized that sentiment had been made millions upon millions of times by kids who had far worse days behind and in front of them.

Letterman's Top Ten List for today

Jay Leno Monologue For Today

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

Another travel day. I’ve covered this territory before so I won’t go into much detail. What I did notice though is that I’m getting better at passing the time while sitting around for hours. I don’t know if this is a good skill to have or not but with my CD player, magazines, books on tape, and regular books, I kept the “staring at the wall” to a minimum.

On the first leg of the trip, I had my normal window seat and when I got there, no one was in either middle nor aisle seat. I always pick the window seat; probably a throwback from being a kid and always wanting to look out the window.

I got to my seat and did my normal thrashing around trying to get all my distracters set up before anyone else showed up. As a result of the practice I’ve had in the last few months, I quickly got everything out and then stowed for easy access. I am becoming Joe Traveler.

A few minutes later my seatmates arrived. It was a young girl (the kind that could have been 15 to 25, I had no idea) and a person I assumed was her father. The girl sat down first but in her attempt to stow her belongings, she must have caught her pinky nail on the fabric and bent it all the way back. Her hand snapped back but she made no noise. She turned to her father and after some whispers, he was patting her back and I thought I heard some sniffling. Poor girl/woman/whatever.

The only other thing that I noticed was that the rest of her fingernails were chewed down halfway down her finger. I mean all of them were like that and I cringed when I saw them. People are weird. I just sat there with my "leave me alone I'm listening to music" noise canceling headphones on, free to exist within my sound cocoon.

We got into the airport and I met Eric. He was happily typing away on his laptop, enjoying the free, high-speed internet courtesy of the Savannah airport. Eric says it’s his favorite airport because of this internet connectivity and because it’s clean, modern, open, and not too busy. I guess when you do a lot of traveling, these things are important. For me, it's just a sidebar in the book of traveling.

I rented a car and was surprised to see that I was being treated to a brand new Pontiac Sunfire. I don’t know much about cars so it could have been a great little sporty thing or something that was trying to look like a great little sporty thing. I didn’t care because it was transportation and I thought it looked good. Plus, being so small I assumed it was good on the gas mileage.

We decided to hit Savannah for dinner since we were there and went driving down the same road we had walked down the last time we were here during St. Patrick’s Day. Then it was elbow to elbow and strewn with discarded turkey legs in various states of consumption but now, it was just a cobblestone road along the waterfront.

I tried to be good but it ended in a toss up between Tony Romas and Outback Steakhouse. Not exactly the finalists in a healthy dinner contest but justification once again trumped common sense and I succumbed to a rib dinner at Tony Romas. I'll start being good tomorrow. Yeah, that's it.

After gorging ourselves, we took a small tour around the city. Eric tells me they filmed “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” here. I never saw the movie but here’s the plot summary:

This panoramic tale of Savannah's eccentricities focuses on a murder and the subsequent trial of Jim Williams: self made man, art collector, antiques dealer, bon vivant and semi-closeted homosexual. John Kelso a magazine reporter finds himself in Savannah amid the beautiful architecture and odd doings to write a feature on one of William's famous Christmas parties. He is intrigued by Williams from the start, but his curiosity is piqued when he meets Jim's violent, young and sexy lover, Billy. Later that night, Billy is dead, and Kelso stays on to cover the murder trial. Along the way he encounters the irrepressible Lady Chablis, a drag queen commedienne, Sonny Seiler, lawyer to Williams, whose famous dog UGA is the official mascot of the Georgia Bulldogs, an odd man who keeps flies attached to mini leashes on his lapels and threatens daily to poison the water supply, the Married Ladies Card Club, and Minerva, a spiritualist. Between being Jim's buddy, cuddling up to a torch singer, meeting every eccentric in Savannah, participating in midnight graveyard rituals and helping solve the mysteries surrounding Billy's murder, Kelso has his hands full.

Yeah, really great story to tell the kids at night but Eric tells me all the characters are based on real people who still live in the city. I guess they were all upset about the movie but they’re nuts so who gives a rat’s ass, so the general feeling goes.

They also filmed all the Forrest Gump bench scenes here but we couldn’t find the spot. The city is built around a bunch of small round about parks that go through the city and we must have saw every one except the Forrest Gump one. And that’s all I have to say about that.

We made our way back to the base and there it was: Parris Island. We checked into our hotel room and got ready for the next day. I had to unpack and since I was going to be here for a full 10 days, I went ahead and took everything out of my suitcase and used the closet and dresser provided. Since it was going to be “home” for awhile, I thought I’d get comfortable.

Letterman's Top Ten List for today

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

For my son’s birthday, we got him a guinea pig which started out pretty small back in February. Since then, we found out why he is part of the pork family (I don’t know if he’s really but he is a “pig”). We named the little weirdo “Scrat” after the saber-toothed squirrel in the cartoon before Ice Age and here is what I mentioned to someone over an email:

The guinea pig is a weird little shit. It's grown in length and girth to amazing proportions since we got it. Plus, it chirps at my wife when it sees her. It also jumps up and down, shaking it's head and bucking like a bronco.

To my surprise, this is what the guy wrote back:

Ah yes, that would be "popcorning": The sign of a very happy guinea pig. And I'm sure he's chirping at your wife because he's smart enough to know that she's a food source.

So now, around the Grose household, the term “popcorning” has become a popular phrase that we attribute to even the dog, replacing the former term for his random insanity fits: being cracker-dog.

Tomorrow I leave for another 10 day trip to the refreshing swampland of Parris Island, SC where I’ll spend 10 fun-filled days and 9 exciting nights sweating my ass off, being eaten by bugs, and thwarting the romantic advances of some local named “Seabass” with an affinity for visiting Marine Captains. Now I know what your thinking; great, no updates for 10 days.

Well, your kind of right. I will be keeping up with the blog entries but won’t be able to post them until I get back. So this blog will run dry for 10 days and then catch up in one big update.

I will have access to email so I’ll try to keep up with that but I make no promises. I think if I got and stayed caught up with email, it would rip the very fabric of the space-time continuum and the reality that you and I know would cease to exist in its present form.

I’m also doubting if there will be much picture-taking since I took over 100 photos last time I was there and let’s face it, it’s a small island. How many far-off pictures do I need of a DI yelling at a recruit?

This evening was taken up by my methodical, Access-database report wielding packing routine. I get everything on the bed and check off what I got. Then my wife, the expert loadmaster of the family, packed it into my luggage for me (Yes, Brent, I’m still a “kept man”).

I think I have everything but have most of the morning to stress over the things I will forget. And there WILL be things. I’m not just being pessimistic, just recognizing the Patron Saint of Forgotten Trip Fodder.

Letterman's Top Ten List for today

Jay Leno Monologue For Today

Monday, May 17, 2004

Holy crap I read a story that just blew me away today in the Marine Corps Times. Rather than slaughtering it and embellishing the story, I’ll just paste it here in the blog. Read it crefully and consider what it took for these men to do what they did.

Eight heroes, four stories
Marines awarded some of military’s highest honors for Iraq bravery

By Laura Bailey
Times staff writer

Several hours into a fierce firefight with Iraqi Fedayeen and Special Republican Guard forces north of Baghdad last spring, a corporal in Sgt. Marco A. Martinez’s platoon took a spine-severing bullet in the back as his squad assaulted a compound.

The corporal desperately needed evacuation as he lay exposed to the hail of enemy fire coming from a small makeshift bunker inside the compound.

“We didn’t know how many guys were in the bunker, but they were all opening up at the same time,” Martinez said.

Martinez fired a captured rocket-propelled grenade into the bunker, silencing the enemy fire for just a moment.

But soon after, the gunfire started up again.

That’s when he decided to do something so bold, it would earn him a small place in Marine Corps history.

“I figured: one for three, that’s a better trade then three for zero,” Martinez said of risking his life to save his platoon mates.

As rounds from AK47 assault rifles whizzed past, so close that they heated his ears, Martinez rushed the bunker and threw a grenade inside, killing three men.

He then entered the bunker and found one man alive with a grenade.

“I shot him first,” said Martinez, 22, as he recalled the April 12, 2003, firefight.

On a much quieter May 3 afternoon, leathernecks with 5th Marines watched as Navy Secretary Gordon England presented Martinez with the Navy Cross in a ceremony at Camp Pendleton, Calif.

While Martinez was the first person to receive the award — the Navy Department’s second-highest — since the 1991 Persian Gulf War, he was not the only one from his regiment to receive such high honors that week.

At two ceremonies — one attended by England on May 3 and another attended by Marine Commandant Gen. Mike Hagee three days later — three leathernecks with 5th Marines received the Navy Cross. Five others received the Silver Star.

The Navy Cross is second only to the Medal of Honor and has been given fewer than 10 times since the end of the Vietnam War. The Silver Star is the service’s third-highest award.

“These brave Marines did good things without notice … and without the acclaim of crowds,” a press release quoted England as saying. “But they got the acclaim of their fellow Marines.”

Staff Sgt. Adam R. Sikes, Cpl. Timothy C. Tardif and Gunnery Sgt. Jeffrey E. Bohr Jr., each received the Silver Star May 3. Bohr’s wife, Lori, accepted the award on behalf of her husband, who was killed April 10, 2003, in Iraq.

Three days later, Hagee presented the Navy Cross to two leathernecks with 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines — Pfc. Joseph B. Perez and Capt. Brian R. Chontosh — during a ceremony at the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center in Twentynine Palms, Calif. Two other Marines with 3/5, Cpls. Armand E. McCormick and Robert P. Kerman, received the Silver Star.

These are their battle stories, based on their citations.

Coming out like ants

Martinez, Sikes and Tardif were recognized for their actions during the four-hour firefight the morning of April 12, which began after two Marine squads crossed a bridge into the small town of Tarmiya about 20 miles north of Baghdad. “Guys started coming out of the bushes like ants coming out of ant holes,” said Martinez, describing the ambush of his unit, 1st Platoon, Golf Company, 2/5.

Two of the platoon’s squads, led by Sikes, were ambushed by a company-sized group of Iraqi Fedayeen and Special Republican Guard fighters.

Sikes, 27, who canceled plans to attend Georgetown University in Washington, D.C., so he wouldn’t miss the war in Iraq, found himself pinned down by heavy small-arms and RPG fire in the opening moments of the ambush.

Under fire, Sikes, a former Marine Security Guard, rallied two squads for a counterattack, then charged alone across 70 meters of fire-swept ground to close in and destroy an enemy strong point. He then climbed to the roof of a three-story building and directed 60mm mortar rounds onto nearby Iraqi positions.

Meanwhile, a third squad with Martinez and Tardif crossed the bridge and began a second assault.

Tardif, 22, charged across a road under intense small-arms and RPG fire, and was wounded by shrapnel from a grenade during the close-quarters battle that followed. Despite being wounded, he refused to be evacuated and led his squad in an assault on an enemy-held compound. Tardif would later collapse from his wounds.

“I just wanted to take care of my squad. I didn’t want to quit on them,” he said.

Meanwhile, Martinez, then a corporal, took over and led an assault through a tree line where the ambush began.

Soon after, Martinez and the squad arrived at the compound from which large amounts of fire were coming. That’s when the corporal in Martinez’s platoon was shot in the back, and Martinez rushed the bunker.

The wounded corporal probably would have died if Martinez had not fired the RPG and rushed the bunker, Tardif said.

“He basically single-handedly ended the firefight,” Tardif said.

But Martinez said he never dreamed his actions would be rewarded.

“I didn’t expect to get a medal … I didn’t want my friends to get hit,” he said.

“I just thought they’d say, ‘Oh, OK. Good, Sgt. Martinez. You were doing your job,’ and that would be it.”

A volunteer’s bravery

In the same ceremony, Gunnery Sgt. Jeffrey E. Bohr Jr. was honored posthumously with a Silver Star for his actions in an April 10, 2003, firefight while serving as the company gunnery sergeant for Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 5th Marines.

Bohr had volunteered to go with the company’s armored convoy in a “soft-skinned” Humvee during the seizing of a presidential palace in Baghdad to ensure the convoy was resupplied quickly.

While moving through the narrow Baghdad streets, the convoy came under intense fire and Bohr continually fired his rifle while supplying critical information to his company commander.

The lead vehicle reached a dead end and was caught under fire, but Bohr continued to “boldly engage the enemy while calmly maneuvering his Marines to safety,” his award citation reads.

After learning that a Marine in another vehicle was wounded, Bohr coordinated medical treatment. He guided an evacuation vehicle to the Marine, laying down heavy fire along the way, and was killed while trying to get the vehicle to the injured leatherneck.

‘Ferocious attack’

About two weeks before Bohr’s firefight, Capt. Brian R. Chontosh, Cpl. Armand E. McCormick and Cpl. Robert P. Kerman, were vehicle mates with Combined Anti-Armor Platoon, Weapons Company, 3/5, were battling Saddam Hussein’s soldiers south of Baghdad.

Chontosh received the Navy Cross for what is described as a “ferocious” attack on the enemy. McCormick and Kerman received the Silver Star for the same battle.

On March 25, 2003, the platoon found itself in the midst of a coordinated ambush of mortar, RPG and automatic-weapons fire as it moved north on Highway 1 toward Diwaniyah.

With coalition tanks blocking the road ahead, Chontosh, then a first lieutenant, realized his platoon was caught in a kill zone. Coming under machine-gun fire, Chontosh directed his driver, McCormick, to drive into the enemy trench from which the fire was coming. He then got out of the vehicle and began firing into the trench with his M16 rifle and M9 pistol.

Once his ammunition ran out, “1st Lt. Chontosh, with complete disregard for his safety, twice picked up discarded enemy rifles and continued his ferocious attack,” his citation states. He then used a captured Iraqi RPG to destroy another group of soldiers, it said.

“When his audacious attack ended, he had cleared over 200 meters of the enemy trench, killing more than 20 enemy soldiers and wounding several others,” it reads.

Meanwhile, McCormick and Kerman, both lance corporals at the time, drove their vehicle directly at an enemy machine-gun position and crashed it into an occupied trench. They both sprang from the vehicle and began assaulting along a berm. As the group ran low on ammunition, McCormick and Kerman collected enemy rifles and RPGs and continued to press the attack forward several hundred meters. They received Silver Stars for their actions.

The right point man

During the Marine advance to Baghdad on April 4, 2003, Lance Cpl. Joseph B. Perez’s platoon came under intense enemy fire.

Perez, 23, a rifleman with India Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, was the point man for the lead squad and the most exposed member of the team. He would receive the Navy Cross for his actions.

Perez’s citation states he continuously shot at the Iraqis while directing accurate fire for his squad. He then led a charge into a trench occupied by enemy combatants, destroying them, and under “tremendous” enemy fire, threw a grenade into another trench. This allowed his squad to maneuver safely to the enemy position and seize it.

Perez fired an AT-4 rocket into a machine-gun bunker, destroying the position and killing four Iraqis.

While trying to link up with his platoon’s left flank, Perez continued shooting Iraqi combatants with his M16 rifle, but suffered gunshot wounds to his torso and shoulder. Despite his serious injuries, Perez directed his squad to take cover and gave the squad accurate fire direction to the enemy, “that enabled the squad to reorganize and destroy the enemy,” his citation says.

What’s next?

With some of the military’s highest decorations on their chests, the recipients are planning their next moves.

McCormick was scheduled to deploy again to Iraq on May 7, according to a Marine Corps press release.

Martinez and Tardif both are on terminal leave as they await the end of their tours. Martinez is going to the University of South Florida and hopes to work in the banking industry, and Tardif is doing course work in California in law enforcement and hopes to work in homeland security.

Sikes plans to get back to school, too. He will apply again to Georgetown and Harvard universities once he completes his remaining year and a half with the Corps.

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As proud as I was to read about these heroics, it occurred to me that you hear all about the prison scandals but you never hear about the deeds described above on the news. When did anyone hear about these incredible events on the evening news? The only way I found out about it is to read it in a magazine aimed primarily for Marines.

Here is a Captain jumping out of a hummer, blasting away with a rifle and his pistol, picking up enemy weapons as fast as he can use them, and his two Marine driving the hummer down the trench line, ramming a machine gun, and jumping out of the wreckage to shoot their rifles and more enemy weapons. And the news focuses on naked prisoner pyramids.

What must have that scene been like when all the shooting stopped and the three Marines stood there, chests heaving, looking around at the aftermath? Not a trio you want to jump out at and spook just for fun.

I’ve been in the Marine Corps for almost 17 years and even I stand in awe and can’t answer the question on the lips of so many people that hear about these actions: “Where do they find these kind of men?”

My answer is I don’t really know but they are prevalent throughout the Marine Corps. Trying to explain this today to a civilian that works in my office, I had to just leave him with a simple statement: “I’d hate to fight us.”

Jay Leno Monologue For Today

Sunday, May 16, 2004

I am writing this letter to express my severe dissatisfaction with my visit to one of your restaurants this morning at 11:00 on My 16th, 2004.

My two small children and I were seated in a booth next to another booth with two young men and a baby. As we sat down, we could hear their complaints about the service they were getting and their conversation included many vulgar references. There was some type of personal drama between the men and their waitress who was completely ignoring their requests. From the continuing, one-sided communication between them, I was soon aware that this was a personal issue between the waitress and one of the men at the table.

As an active duty Marine, I am well-armed to intercede and tersely discontinue such common indecency but I’m also aware that making a public scene was not a proper course. So as the obscenities continued, I got up to talk to the manager. I informed the assistant manager on duty of the situation and he apologized, promising to take care of the situation.

He came over to their table, told them I had complained about the obscenities, and asked if he could talk to them away from the other customers. They refused saying they could talk to him right there and at that, the assistant manager walked away. This left me in a very awkward situation because I had to endure the comments now coming from them, obviously pointed my way until they left on their own volition.

I understand that a restaurant can have unruly customers from time to time and that is not my complaint. But when I purposely refrain from intensifying a potential very public scene by deferring to the management, and they do nothing, I feel that as a customer, I’ve then been subjected to a negative and awkward atmosphere. I was embarrassed and my children were so nervous that they even refused the ice cream that came with their meal and just wanted to leave.

We never heard back from the assistant manager, and was not even offered even a partial compensation for the ruined meal. Everyone acted like nothing had happened even to the point of the cashier (who was privy to the drama) asking how our meal was. Needless to say, the $18.93 I spent will be the last amount that the Friendly’s restaurant chain will be getting from me.

I don’t normally take the time to contact the offending party when I’ve received inferior service but the meal I subjected my children to this morning represents a particularly heinous example to the point I felt compelled to write.