It was a significant, if unlikely, milestone in a strange journey.
Everything about the Colonel's life to that point (and beyond) was strange and unlikely. He is an eighth generation Mississippian, but lived in the state barely eighteen months out of his first eighteen years. Following his career Air Force NCO father around the world, he touched bases in Orlando, Birmingham, Orlando again, then briefly in his parents' hometown -- Columbus, Mississippi, and then Morocco (that's in Africa, for the geographically challenged), Little Rock, Columbus again (while Dad went to fight the communists in Vietnam), Alexandria, Louisiana, and then the now-extinct Panama Canal Zone.
The Colonel's father retired from the Air Force the same summer (of 1974) the Colonel graduated from high school, and his family moved back to Columbus to start a different life.
Well, it might have been different for Mom and Dad -- they've been in Columbus ever since -- but for the Colonel and his brother it was more of the same for the better part of the next three decades. Little Brother took the obvious path for a member of our family -- went to school at Mississippi State and then spent a twenty year career in the family business; retiring as a Major in the United States Air Force.
But, the Colonel has always been a rebel.
At the conclusion of a "rather lackluster" (actual quote from more than one interviewer) high school career, but armed with "surprisingly strong" (another actual quote) college entrance test scores, the Colonel applied for appointment at any and all U.S. military academies.
A few weeks before the end of school, the Colonel received letters from all of the above thanking him for his interest in national security and declining his offer to be the anchor man in the Class of 1978. It was a bit of a let-down; but, no real surprise -- "rather lackluster" high school record and all.
The Colonel had also applied for the relatively easier to obtain ROTC scholarships from the Air Force, Army, and Navy. "Relatively easier" actually turned out to be "not-so easy" in the Colonel's case. He received letters from the Air Force and Navy thanking him for his interest in national security and declining his offer to spend their money on a fool's errand.
The Army, on the other hand, saw the slightest glimmer of potential in the Colonel to become commissioned cannon fodder to replace the commissioned cannon fodder lost in the recent imbroglio in Southeast Asia as commissioned cannon fodder in the Fulda Gap (the likely Red Army invasion route into Western Europe if and when the Cold War went hot). The Army first told the Colonel he was an "alternate" for a four-year ROTC scholarship. Then, as hundreds above him on the list declined the honor of becoming commissioned cannon fodder in the Fulda Gap, the Army informed the Colonel that he was the recipient of a full-ride at the university of his choice (provided said university had Army ROTC and low enough entrance standards).
The Colonel was days away from signing an acceptance letter to become the next generation of commissioned cannon fodder in the Fulda Gap, when he received a call from the commanding officer of the Marine Barracks whose responsibility it was to provide security for the Navy facilities in and around the Panama Canal Zone. This Marine officer had been tasked with contacting the Colonel and telling him that he had been accepted for a Marine Corps Option, Naval ROTC Scholarship. It was obviously a task for which he was not overly thrilled.
"Good Morning, Mr. Gregory. My name is Lieutenant Colonel Hardjaw McJarhead (not his real name). Congratulations. You are the recipient of a Naval ROTC (Marine Corps option) Scholarship."
"Excuse me, sir, I didn't apply for the Marine scholarship."
"What?!? Why the h... errr... why not?"
"I dunno. Guess I didn't think Marines went to college."
After a long pause, "Well, young man, I have a letter with the signature of the Commandant of the Marine Corps on it saying that you can go free of charge to any school of your choice -- provided that school has an NROTC program and low enough entrance standards. Do you want to be a Marine or not?"
"Don't think I do. The Army has offered me a scholarship and I think I'm gonna take it."
"The Army?!?" McJarhead's (not his real name) disdainful tone of voice carried the clear implication that ARMY was not the only four letter word with which his vocabulary was armed. "Why would you want to be commissioned cannon fodder in the Fulda Gap when you can be a Marine?!?"
The word "Marine" rolled off McJarhead's (not his real name) tongue as if he were reciting poetry -- that is, if Marines recited poetry... which they don't. Limericks maybe. Okay, maybe a line or two from Shakespeare's "Henry V" or Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade," ... Look, Marines ain't real poetic... just sayin'. But the way a Marine says the word "Marine" can best be described as a tonal mixture of pride and reverence..., with a side order of arrogance.
McJarhead's (not his real name) pronunciation of the word still rings in the Colonel's ears -- or maybe that's the caffeine-enhanced tinnitus. Anyway, the Colonel, for the first -- certainly not the last -- time in the next four decades of his strange and unlikely journey, heard "Marine" spoken in a way that made his chest tighten and his pulse quicken.
As the Colonel pondered whether he wanted to be a Marine, McJarhead (not his real name) broke the silence with a barely concealed sneer, "Well, you probably ain't got what it takes to be a Marine..."
Four years later, following a "rather lackluster college career" (actual quote from an interviewer), the Colonel heard the following:
"To all who shall see these presents, greeting:
Know Ye that, reposing special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity and abilities of Thomas Edward Gregory, I do appoint him a Second Lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps to rank as such from the 14th day of May,1978. This Officer will therefore carefully and diligently discharge the duties of the office to which appointed by doing and performing all manner of things thereunto belonging.
And I do strictly charge and require those Officers and other personnel of lesser rank to render such obedience as is due an officer of this grade and position. And this Officer is to observe and follow such orders and directives, from time to time, as may be given by me, or the future President of the United States of America, or other Superior Officers acting in accordance with the laws of the United States of America.
This commission is to continue in force during the pleasure of the President of the United States of America for the time being, under the provisions of those Public Laws relating to Officers of the Armed Forces of the United States of America and the component thereof in which this appointment is made.
Done at the City of Washington, this 14th day of May in the year of our Lord Nineteen hundred and seventy-eight, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and second.
By the President"
Last Saturday evening, the Colonel had the great personal honor to serve as the Guest of Honor for the University of Mississippi NROTC Commissioning Ceremony at which seven graduating midshipmen had pinned to their shoulders the rank insignia of ensigns and second lieutenants. The ceremony was long enough -- though appropriately so -- that the Colonel had opportunity to review the strange and unlikely forty years since his own commissioning ceremony.
He thought back to the winding road that took him from Ole Miss on a journey that literally criss-crossed the globe. He remembered the comrades in arms whose kinship transcends family ties. He recounted the deployments, separations, scars, and tears.
The Colonel felt again the tightening in his chest and the quickening of his pulse as he stood to the strains of the Marines' Hymn.
And when he could scarcely stand another shot of pride and reminiscence, the Colonel looked down to the front row and locked eyes with the most unlikely of all of his blessings and caught her smile.
The comely and kind-hearted Miss Brenda was where she has always been since the Colonel was fifteen years old -- there..., quietly beaming her confidence and love.
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