The stands of the parade deck on Peatross Parris Island protested the collective weight of hundreds of family members and friends seated on them with squeaks and pops. Everyone strained to find their one United States Marine marching among the platoons.
From some distance away, mothers looked for any characteristics that might cause their children to stand out from the uniformed company. Gone were the usual tells.
The Marines’ covers shielded their eyes. Straight faces masked familiar smiles. Erect postures and crisp uniforms camouflaged distinctive slopes of the shoulder.
And any hint of a signature gait had been trained out of them. Feet fell into a cadence. Left, left, left, right, left.
Thirteen weeks prior, these sharp looking men and women placed those feet on the iconic yellow footprints where a million marines stood before — the first step into the Marine Corps way of life.
Four years ago, it was my privilege to sit among the family members searching for a loved one. I looked for my nephew.
The day before, we got to see him for family day. He requested pizza for lunch, which he inhaled with the gusto of a dog with a piece of American cheese.
The soon-to-be Private Carson regaled us with stories about his experience. The sandflies, the gas chamber, the quirks of his drill instructor, the food, the Crucible. He spoke in acronyms.
One moment he declared, “Man, I hate this place!” And the next moment, a smile creeped across his face at the thought of an off-color memory. He said, “Man, I love this place!”
He expressed the mixed feelings of a boy freshly forged into a man through rigors untold. A boy whose first letter home was an apology to his mother, my sister, for all the knuckleheaded things he did.
On graduation day, with the final order, “Dismissed!” and a booming “Oorah!,” the newest Marines broke formation. Family members sprinted to embrace them.
I didn’t grow up in a military family. But I had uncles and great-uncles who served. WWII. Korea. Vietnam. And I had friends who served in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Living where we do, a stone’s throw to Fort Bragg, countless neighbors are active or retired military. It is hard to not have a personal connection to at least one branch of the Armed Forces.
The Marines, the Army and the Navy have all celebrated 250th anniversaries in 2025. Men and women from all walks of life have served our nation in the cause of liberty for centuries through times of war and times of peace. Not all of them came home.
What strikes me about the Marine graduation was how young they all looked. Chisled, strong, but so, so young. Many are just 18, 19, 20 years old. We train them up and send them out to face dangers known and unknown.
Weeks ago they were writing letters to their mothers telling them they didn’t know how good they had it. One day they will have earned their stripes.
All members of the military started in the same place. They learned about duty. They were instilled with honor. They were trained in combat. They swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States.
The Constitution contains the highest ideals of “We the People” intent on forming a more perfect Union. That Union, it would seem, begins with a lock step.
For the sacrifices large and small by our military veterans and their families to secure the blessings of liberty, I give thanks this Veterans Day.
Contact Maggie Beamguard at maggie@thepilot.com.
