Once a sergeant, still a Marine.

Of course, at my advanced age and physical lack-of-condition, the Corps wouldn't let me file papers, much less lead a platoon.

But the Corps inculcates its recruits with its history, traditions, and the overall mystique of being one of the Few. Every boot camp graduate can recite much of the history, and probably went to the rack every night saying something like, "Good night, Chesty, where ever you are." Even after he was dead!

I salute all my brothers in arms and thank each of you for your service. But I embrace the Marines in the crowd and will cry special tears over your graves should I outlast you. God, Corps, and country . . . in that order. (Hope that doesn't draw any wrath.)

Joke: Know what it sounds like when the sh** hits the fan?

"Muh-reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!"