In its 19 May 1941 issue, Life Magazine did an extensive photo layout of uniforms worn by members of the U.S. armed forces. The Marine in this photo appeared twice in the article; in this photo, and in another wearing the forest green winter service uniform. I first saw the article many years ago, and never forgot this Marine staff NCO. To me, he epitomized the sharp appearance of an Old Corps Marine.
There’s no way (at least none that I’ve thought of) to identify him. Most of the service personnel in the article were unnamed, and photographer Dmitri Kessel’s notes were most likely lost decades ago. It’s a shame really, because this is an outstanding picture. I wonder how our Marine fared in the second great war of the Twentieth Century. That horrendous event was only months aways as he posed for this picture. Although I have to say, “posed” might be be the best word to describe his posture. This was probably how he stood all the time. He had learned it to perfection from years in the Marine Corps.
This Marine had movie star good looks and it almost seems as if he stepped right off a recruiting poster into the photo studio. There was a confident air about him, maybe just this side of cocky. His expression and posture made a definite statement – I’ve worn out a few seabags, and remember that.
In his bestselling debut novel novel Battle Cry, World War II Marine Leon Uris wrote about a a group of brand new boots seeing for the first time Marines wearing blues. The Marine in this photo could easily have been the one Mr. Uris described:
The Sea School Marines were a sight to make any boot cringe. Six feet tall, husky and tanned, they were the men who manned the guard of battleships and cruisers of the fleet. The air was alive with the color of their dress blues. Their sergeant rippled cadence from his tongue and in his hand swung a beautiful golden saber. The polish of their golden buttons and buckles, the mirror of their shoes and cap brims, the white of their belts and gloves and the magnificent unison of their movement was a sight to behold.”
Let’s take a look at our Marine’s ribbons, which show that he did lots of traveling during his lash-ups in the old Corps. In the inter-war decades, Marions deployed around the world on operations, as as crew members aboard U.S. Navy ships.
On the top of his rack is the ribbon for the Marine Corps Expeditionary Medal, which has always been recognized as a prestigious award. The MCEM has been authorized for issue since 1919, making it one of the armed forces oldest awards in continual service. Based on my research into authorized operations for the MCEM in the late-1920s through 1941, my bet is that this Marine received his medal for service in China in 1928-29.
Next is the Second Nicaraguan Campaign Medal. Department of the Navy General Orders first authorized this medal on November 8, 1929. It was awarded to Navy and Marine Corps personnel who served in Nicaragua and surrounding waters between August 27, 1926, and January 2, 1933.
Several thousand ground and aviation Marines served in Nicaragua during this campaign. They provided both combat forces, and advisers to the Nicaraguan Guardia Nacional. Service in the tropical jungles of this Latin American nation provided deep experience that the Marine Corps later put to good use in the Pacific campaigns of World War II.
Now we have the Yangtze Service Medal. Awarded to U.S. Navy and U.S. Marine Corps Service members who participated in operations in the Yangtze River Valley, China, between September 3, 1926, and October 21, 1927, and between March 1, 1930, and December 31, 1932. It was also awarded to Service members on shore duty in Shanghai or in the valley of the Yangtze River with a landing force during the same periods of time. The Harper Prize winning novel The Sand Pebbles by Richard McKenna was set on the Yangtze River in this period.
I tend to think our Marine earned this medal before he deployed to Nicaragua. But because of the order of precedence, he wore the Second Nicaragua ribbon before the one for this medal.
Finally, this Marine is wearing the Good Conduct Medal. It was instituted in 1896 and has been awarded continuously since then. The version you see here dates from 1935. Prior to that year, a bronze clasp with the words “U.S. MARINE CORPS” was attached to the top of the suspension ribbon.
Prior to 1953, Marines wore bronze numerals on the ribbon of the GCM, one for each creditable enlistment. The suspension ribbon of the medal displayed a bronze engraved clasp for each award of the medal.
In 1953, the current system of bronze and silver service stars was first adopted for the GCM. Until December 1945 four years of creditable service were required for each award of the GCM. So in general, each time a Marine received a subsequent award of the GCM, he also sewed on a service stripe.
One final note on this Marine’s Good Conduct Medal – if you have another look at the picture at the top of this article, you’ll see the GCM ribbon is worn behind his service and campaign medals. I don’t know when the GCM was switched to the current precedence, but I have the 1937 Marine Corps Uniform Regulations with changes through 1941. The system in use in 1941 placed the Good Conduct Medal nearly last in the order of precedence for Marine Corps awards and decorations.
In 1941 as Americans first saw this Marine’s picture in Life Magazine, the nation was technically at peace. The United States was just beginning to awaken from its long sleep of isolation. But all those years that stretched between two world wars, this Marine and his shipmates stood the long watch. Nearly forgotten by their country, they served across the face of the globe.
I’ll close with words that Leo Uris wrote in the prologue to Battle Cry, which is my favorite novel. He might have been describing our Marine when he wrote:
They call me Mac. The name’s unimportant. … I’ve sat behind a machine gun poked through the barbed wire of the International Settlement [in Shanghai] when the world was supposed to be at peace, and I’ve called Jap bluffs on the Yangtze Patrol a decade before Pearl Harbor … and I know the rivers and jungles of Central America. There are few skylines that would fool me: Sugar Loaf, Diamond Head, or the palms of a Caribbean hellhole.
Semper Fi, Mac, semper fi,
Mark
P. S. My use of Mr. Uris’ original text does not imply that I subscribe to the racial or ethnic language he used in Battle Cry. I chose the closing passage to illustrate how this Marine likely saw the world he lived in when his photo was taken.
P. P. S. Both quoted passages are from Battle Cry by Leon Uris, G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1953, New York.