(This is very long, so if you get bored, Jesse,
feel free to delete this before I really get on a roll. I know how
limited your attention span is.)
You know, I've been reading this recent
back-and-forth dialogue about "young" vs. "old" MKs the
past several days with interest and amusement. While I realize that
the majority of the verbal barbs were done in jest, I got the feeling that
some of the "older" MKs (the ones even older than you, Espy!) really
do feel that they have little in common with the "younger"
generations that came after them. Well, when you really think
about it, there IS a tremendous age gap that is capable of dividing the
generations, if you let it. It's kind of scary to realize that there are
young airmen going through the tech schools right now who weren't even
born when we started the Panama deployments in 1981. If those of us who
flew in the late-'70s and '80s feel old, imagine how the guys from "The
Crisis" and the '60s feel? To them, guys like Espy, Jose Ramos,
Elliot Lopez-Sanchez, Rico Vasquez, Jimmy Bell, etc., were the "young
kids" that came on the scene as the '60's group was nearing the end of
their watch. Those whom we look upon as elders and mentors were the
"rookies" and "whippersnappers" of the
Kennedy/Johnson/Nixon era. From a strictly generational,
chronological, and historical perspective, it would seem they have nothing in
common with the present cadre of MKs. One of the elders even made a
comment on the Opscomm about how if sounded like the younger generation
certainly had a lot of fun and that he hoped they got the job done. I'll
address that in a minute.
First, about this perceived generation gap.
I am reminded of something that happened to me as a young, 18-year-old Marine
at my first duty station. I was invited to join the Marine Corps
League, and when I went to the first meeting, I was surprised at the wide
range in ages of its members. There were World War II vets talking to
guys who had just returned from Viet Nam, and Korean War members chatting with
boot camp graduates who would probably never even see combat. I watched
in fascination as one really grizzled, scarred former-Master Gunnery Sergeant
who had lost an eye, a finger, and God-knows-what-else at Tarawa and Iwo Jima
politely listened to a 19-year old kid talking about the "hell" he
had just gone through at Parris Island. When the kid was finished, the
old Gunny congratulated him on making it through boot camp, bought him a beer,
and they made a toast to the Corps. When the kid left, I started talking
to the old Gunny. I said something like, "It really impressed me
how someone like you, who really did survive a hell-on-earth in the South
Pacific, can relate to this kid who is 30 years younger, fresh out of
high school, and just graduated from boot camp. I wouldn't think you two
would have anything in common." The Gunny thought about it for a
minute, and then said, "You're wrong. We do have something in
common and we always will. We're both Marines."
You know, I used to get kidded a lot about being a
former "jarhead," but we can all learn a lesson from the Corps when
it comes to camaraderie and pride. We were (and are) all MKs, whether it
was flying in support of the Cuban Missile Crisis or peacekeeping efforts in
Bosnia and Somalia. It doesn't matter if we flew missions over South
Viet Nam or over Kuwait, the danger was there. The other day, I saw
a bumper sticker that really disturbed me. It read; "If you
ain't a Viet Nam vet, you ain't a vet." One's justifiable pride of
being a member of that troubled era is understandable, but the categorical
statement it professed couldn't be farther from the truth. Tell the
family members of the Marines that perished in the barracks in Beirut or the
SEALS that died in the assault on the airport in Panama City that their
deaths were less significant because of the time and conflict in
which they served. A Scud attack on Riyadh was just as deadly as a
mortar attack on DaNang, and even the "peacetime" mission of
counter drug support carries the same risks of not coming back (just ask
Trout).
Did these "whippersnappers" get the job
done while they were having fun? Damn right they did, and I have no
doubt they still do. The MKs of today face a much more diverse,
intangible challenge than we did 20 years ago. Even as recent as
the late '70s, we only had to concentrate on the Warsaw Pact targets and
"conventional" warfare. We had a fairly structured,
traditional enemy, one who was seen as a constant threat, whether it was in
the form of Soviet forces along the European frontier, through a
satellite state like Cuba, or from Chinese-backed troops coming from
North Viet Nam, we knew our enemy and we were prepared. All that
started to change in the '80s, when the Reagan Administration decided to focus
our intel assets on Central America, and later in the decade when Bush offered
the military for use in the Drug War.
Since then, a scant "half-generation"
ago, we have seen our MK's being deployed all over the world in scenarios and
operations that were unforeseeable a few years ago. And not only have
the targets changed, but take a look at the platforms themselves. Those
who flew nothing but "Block I" and Levi would be totally astounded
at the technological marvel that is present-day intelligence collection.
The modern MK is no longer a cloistered, categorized operator working within
well-defined, conventional target. He or she (yes, old-timers,
there are "she's" doing the job just as good as you used to) must be
capable of responding to any threat anywhere in the world, and that often
involves being qualified on multiple platforms, systems, and often, languages.
I, for one, love to talk about the "good old days" and how it used
to be "back when we had a REAL mission," but I respect, honor,
and feel great pride in being associated with ALL MKs, past, present, and
future. We have a tradition that must be passed from
generation to generation, one that transcends any potentially-divisive
generational or cultural differences. Like the old Gunny said, we
share something that will always bond us together, no matter how many years or
conflicts may separate us. We should always express our great pride in
being a part of something as powerful as the MK brotherhood, something that
identifies us not only as "former MKs," but as "Familia."
I will extend my hand to the freshest, greenest trainee as quickly as to the
most revered, seasoned retiree. Once an MK, always an MK. Or, as
Espy aptly put it, "Frijolero por vida!"
Patria o Muerte!
Comandante Hugo