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Today, November 10, 2022, is the 247th birthday of the U.S. Marine Corps. All across the globe, active-duty Marines will take time to pay homage to their Corps, to its extraordinarily rich heritage, and to all of those who have gone before them, remembering especially those who have been wounded or killed in battle defending this nation. At most Marine posts, there will be a cake, a toast or two, and a reminder that the Marine Corps is an organization committed to excellence, to unselfish service, and, most importantly, to winning.  

This Marine Corps Birthday, I’d like to celebrate the life of Vince Dooley, the longtime football coach and athletics director at the University of Georgia, who died on October 28, 2022. Coach Dooley had been a Marine Corps officer in the mid-1950s, and his pride in his service in the Marines was evident to all who knew him. Dooley’s Georgia Bulldogs football teams were known for their toughness and their ability to battle and overcome—traits that reflected the character of their former-Marine leader. During his 25-year tenure as head coach, Dooley’s teams won 201 games, including six Southeastern Conference championships and one national championship. At the time of his retirement from coaching in 1988, only Alabama’s Bear Bryant exceeded Dooley in wins among SEC coaches.

In a small sampling of his many honors, Dooley was elected to the College Football Hall of Fame as well as the Marine Corps Sports Hall of Fame. From becoming a head coach at UGA in 1964 at the age of 31, until his death last month at age 90, Dooley became a revered figure at UGA and across the State of Georgia, not solely for his gridiron success, but also for his kindness, his integrity, and his loyalty. He will long be remembered as a focused, intelligent, highly successful man of many accomplishments, but who always remained approachable and gracious.

I had some history with Coach Dooley. He became a role model for me when I was seventeen years old. I admired him from afar for the immediate success he had in turning around what had become a moribund football program at Georgia. When soon thereafter I became a student at UGA, I could judge by the esteem he held among his football players that he was indeed the real deal. After I graduated from college and became an officer in the Marine Corps, Coach Dooley and I exchanged letters, a habit we would keep up intermittently for the rest of his life. Every time one of the four novels I have written was released, I would always make sure Coach got a copy hot off the press. He was always pleased to receive the book and generous with his comments.

He was also generous with his time. My wife and I had a chance to meet with him when he was consulting with Kennesaw State University over their ambition to start a football program. We met in a private office near the university and talked about football, the Marine Corps, and gardening which had a special attraction to him given the world-class garden he maintained at his Athens residence. I signed my latest book and gave him a copy. He signed a picture for me. We took a photograph together. He was in no hurry to conclude our session, but then again, I realized he was being paid for his time as a consultant, so I thanked him for all he had meant to me and so many others he had touched with his extraordinary accomplishments.

This Marine Corps Birthday I will think of Coach Dooley. One of the highest compliments I was paid during my business career was when a colleague referred to me as our company’s version of Vince Dooley—always calm and collected but always well prepared to take on and beat the competition. I’ll always cherish that compliment, even though I clearly knew that I could hardly compare to such a giant of a figure. Still, I was grateful that my colleague compared me to Coach Dooley rather than, say, Dog the Bounty Hunter, or some such. That would have been far less pleasing (and highly unlikely to have found its way in this or any other post).

Much like the Marine Corps he served with such pride, Vince Dooley knew how to lead, and especially how to win. He sought excellence in everything he did. He served his Bulldog football players with great loyalty and devotion, teaching them life lessons along the way that benefited so many. He donated his time to many charitable organizations, using his considerable celebrity in service to others. And he was an inspiration to countless individuals like myself who will be forever thankful for the example he provided. His was a life exceedingly well lived.

Thank you, Coach Dooley. And Semper Fi.

Happy Birthday, Marines.

When I was a new U.S. Marine Corps Second Lieutenant attending the Basic School at Quantico, Virginia, I was drawn to a room in which a wall of black-and-white photos depicted Marine lieutenants who had been awarded the nation’s highest decoration, the Medal of Honor. At least two of the pictured officers were by then instructors at the Basic School, viewed as they were in nothing short of awe. Most of those pictured, however, had been awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously. All of those men seemed larger than life, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only fledgling lieutenant who wondered how good I would be at following in their very large shadows.

One officer in particular caught my eye. He was a posthumous Medal of Honor awardee, First Lieutenant John P. Bobo from Niagara Falls, New York. He graduated from Niagara University and was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the Marine Corps in December, 1965. After completing Basic School, Lt. Bobo was ordered to Vietnam in June, 1966. Once there, he assumed command of a platoon of Marines.

In March, 1967, a large force of North Vietnamese Army soldiers attacked his company’s night position, and during the desperate fight Lt. Bobo was killed in action. His Medal of Honor citation reads thusly:

“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as Weapons Platoon Commander, Company I, 3rd Battalion, 9th Marines, 3rd Marine Division in Quang Tri Province, Republic of Vietnam, on 30 March 1967. Company I was establishing night ambush sites when the command group was attacked by a reinforced North Vietnamese company supported by automatic weapons and mortar fire. Lieutenant BOBO immediately organized a hasty defense and moved from position to position encouraging the outnumbered Marines despite the murderous enemy fire. Recovering a rocket launcher from among the friendly casualties, he organized a new launcher team and directed its fire into the enemy machine gun position. When an exploding enemy mortar round severed Lieutenant Bobo’s right leg below the knee, he refused to be evacuated and insisted upon being placed in a firing position to cover the movement of the command group to a better location. With a web belt around his leg serving as tourniquet and with his leg jammed into the dirt to curtail the bleeding, he remained in this position and delivered devastating fire into the ranks of the enemy attempting to overrun the Marines. Lieutenant BOBO was mortally wounded while firing his weapon into the main point of the enemy attack but his valiant spirit inspired his men to heroic efforts, and his tenacious stand enabled the command group to gain a protective position where it repulsed the enemy onslaught. Lieutenant BOBO’s superb leadership, dauntless courage, and bold initiative reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”

Lt. John Bobo still seems larger than life to me. It is fitting to recognize this extraordinary Marine on the 244th Birthday of the Corps.

You were an inspiration to me when I first saw your picture and learned of your story. And you still are.  

RIP and Semper Fi, sir.

Once again it is the occasion of the U.S. Marine Corps’ birthday, and I often think about this officer when I consider the Corps’ rich heritage. His name was Michael P. Ryan. In 1973, I was about to complete my obligation to the Marines and would soon leave Okinawa to return home to my wife and two young sons in Atlanta. By chance, I happened to be in the Officers Club one night when Gen Ryan, the Commanding General of the 3rd Marine Amphibious Force, dropped by as a guest of our Battalion Commander. I introduced myself to Gen. Ryan and informed him that I would soon rotate home and separate from the Marine Corps.

Gen. Ryan graciously thanked me for my service. I noticed the Navy Cross medal he wore, the highest decoration the Naval Service can award for combat valor, second only to the Medal of Honor. In addition, I remembered from my study of Marine Corps history that he had served with great distinction at the bloody World War II battle of Tarawa in November 1943.

“General,” I asked, “what’s the one thing you remember most from Tarawa?”

Gen. Ryan replied without hesitation, “The salute.”

The battle of Tarawa was the first U.S. offensive in Central Pacific. To get to Japan, the Americans needed to take the Marianas; to take the Marianas, the U.S. needed to take the Marshalls; and to take the Marshalls, it was necessary to take Betio, on the western side of Tarawa Atoll in the Gilbert Islands.

Tarawa was the first U.S. invasion that was opposed at the landing beaches. Planners had expected a rising tide to provide a five-foot depth over the reef, but the depth was only three feet. The Higgins boats ferrying the Marines from ship to shore needed four feet of depth. Consequently, Marines had to wade ashore under murderous fire, greatly slowing their progress. “Situation in doubt” was communicated to the top U.S. commanders.

Casualties in first waves were shocking. It was a scene of utter chaos and destruction. Still, the young Marines kept advancing.

Then-Maj. Mike Ryan landed his company to the west of the main landing areas where he consolidated the stragglers from units that had been obliterated on the beaches. Suddenly, out of the smoke comes an old staff sergeant, dragging a wounded hip, who sought out Maj. Ryan and asked what he could do to assist. When Maj. Ryan explained the situation and suggested a leadership role for the sergeant, the man straightened, voiced a resolute “aye-aye, sir,” and gave a crisp Marine Corps salute.

The attack was a success and provided pressure on the enemy’s right flank, which eventually broke. The battle turned on Maj. Ryan’s audacious gallantry and inspiring leadership. The Japanese commander had said before the battle that it would take a million Marines a hundred years to take Tarawa. It took Maj. Mike Ryan, a shot-up old staff sergeant, and 5,000 other leathernecks 76 hours.

Mike Ryan never saw the old NCO after the battle, so he never knew whether the man had survived the battle or the war. He only knew that, of the tens of thousands of salutes he received in a long and distinguished military career, the sergeant’s salute at Tarawa was the one he cherished the most.

On this the 241st birthday of the Marine Corps, I salute the Marines of the past who made our Corps into the finest fighting organization in the world. And I salute the Marines of the present who have maintained those core values of honor, courage, and commitment.

Semper Fi.