As I left the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, I knew I had about an 800-mile drive to get me home to San Mareo, California. Given the time constraints, I decided to drive it straight through.

After about 15 or 16 hours of non-stop driving, I arrived home in Hillsdale. I crashed for about 12 hours straight. When I woke up, I knew I had to get organized.

Remember, this was 1964. There was no full-time professional military in America. The military was filled primarily with voluntary enlistments and the draft. On or about your 18th birthday, you had to register for the draft. If you stayed in school, you could get a deferment. But if you dropped out, your name went right to the top of the list. In other words, you did not have control over your fate.

One solution was the Marine Corps Reserve. You made a 6-year commitment when you enlisted. You immediately served 6 months active duty which meant you went the same 13 week bootcamp at the Marine Recruit Depot in San Diego, California with the regular Marine enlistees follow by 4 weeks of Advanced Infantry Training at Camp Pendleton. After you completed your 6 months active duty, you went home.

From then on you did an active-duty weekend every month with the other reservists for the rest of your 6 year commitment. And you did a 2-week active duty infantry training at Camp Pendleton every summer. A major advantage to this program: the rest of the time was yours and you were no longer subject to the draft. So, you could plan your future.

I had to get to the Marine Reserve Training Center, sign my enlistment papers, get sworn-in and get my orders and my plane ticket to San Diego. I called and made my appointment. Then I drove to San Bruno which is south of San Francisco. I parked and went into the Marine Reserve Training Center.

I had been there once before, but this felt different. This was for real. There was a distinct aura as I checked in to officially become a Marine recruit. One of the first things I had to do was to pass a physical. I was a little out of shape from sitting on my butt driving for 4 months, but I was a former All-American swimmer and I was 20 years old. The physical seemed like a simple matter of checking the box.

But it was not so simple. All was well except for my blood pressure which was sky high. I had always been competitive and always swam my best in the biggest meets. I get jacked up for big events. I didn’t realize how much becoming a Marine meant to me. The body does not lie. I had to do some fast talking to avoid getting rejected out of hand. I explained that my blood pressure had always been 120 over 80 for all my swim physicals.

After several conversations including with the commanding officer of the Marine Reserve Training Center, I was allowed to proceed with the clear understanding that if when I got to the Recruit Depot in San Diego, my blood pressure was still elevated, I would be sent home and would face the draft. I made it clear I fully understood the terms of my enlistment and agreed to sign my enlistment papers and take the Enlistment Oath.

I signed my enlistment papers and prepared to take the Enlistment Oath. The Marine who was to administer my oath was the Marine Reserve Training Center Sergeant Major. This was a Marine in his dress-greens with a chest full of medals and insignia showing he had over 20 years in the Marine Corps. Talk about aura. His expression was solemn and totally focused. Recalling the words of the oath and his tone of voice still gives me chills. He made me profoundly realize exactly what I was doing and what I was committing to. Oath complete, he looked me square in the eye and shook my hand. Something about him made me extremely proud and I simultaneously felt a deep sense of responsibility that surprised me. I was taking a huge step that had consequences that I could not begin to fathom at that moment. This Sergeant Major had served in combat and had seen men killed. Without saying a word, he brought that gravitas to the moment. I felt deeply honored that this Marine had taken my oath. I had taken my first serious step to joining the brotherhood.

With my orders and my plane ticket under my arm, I walked back to my car. I felt like I was on the threshold of manhood. No more kidding around. I was entering the realm of life and death. A reality I had only seen play acted in movies where the dead and the wounded got up when the scene was over. Today, I realized the Marines were not an act. Marines are for real. The Sergeant Major exuded it whatever “it” meant but I did not have the faintest notion what “it” really meant  or a clue to the potential cost involved.

I drove home somber, serious and, at the same time, wanting to earn a deeper understanding of what the Sergeant Major embodied. A level of honor and commitment I could only hope to attain.

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