Marines come in all sizes, weights, states of sobriety, misery, and confusion. He is shy as a fox, has the nerve of a dope addict, the stories of an old sailor, the sincerity of a liar, and the appetite of a horse. He is unreliable, irresistible and indestructible. A Marine is a magical creature, you can lock him out of your house, but not your heart. You can take him off your mailing list but not off your mind. Marines are found everywhere: in bars, behind bars, in battle, in love, on leave and in debt.
No one can write so seldom and yet think so much of you. No one else can get so much enjoyment out of a letter, civilian clothes, or a six pack of beer. A Marine is lazy with a deck of cards, a millionaire without a cent, brave without a grain of sense. He is the protector of America, with the latest copy of Playboy in his back pocket. When he wants something, it's usually a three day pass, a five dollar bill or a standby home. Girls love them, mothers tolerate them, the United States support them, and some how they manage to live together. No woman can tame him, no man can beat him.
He likes girls, females, women, ladies, and members of the opposite sex. He dislikes answering letters, wearing his uniforms, his superiors, getting up for reveille, Marine Corps chow, basic training, and the week before payday. You might as well give in. He is your long distance lover, your bright eyed good for nothing bundle of worry. Even all your shattered dreams become insignificant when he comes home to you and greets you with those innocently spoken words: "Hi"
Semper Fidelis, brothers and sisters of USMC
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