Posted on: Monday, June 7, 2004
Despite Iraq, Marines find many want to be among few
By David Lamb
Los Angeles Times
NEWPORT NEWS, Va. — Sgt. Jason Samuel is on the prowl. In malls and high school cafeterias. In homes where anxious parents pepper him with questions and in hangouts where kids gather. He comes, in a time of war, with a simple sales pitch: Become a Marine and transform yourself into a warrior imbued with the nobility of service.
In his dress blues, shoes shined to a reflective gloss, Samuel, 25, seems to have stepped out of a recruiting poster.
"When I joined the Marines eight years ago," he'll tell parents who sit at their kitchen table with a son or a daughter, "I was scared to death of heights. You see these wings on my uniform? I'm jump-qualified now. I was terrified of water. Today, I'm a licensed scuba diver. That's what the Corps does for you."
Samuel is one of 3,300 Marine recruiters who, along with thousands from the Army, Air Force, Navy and Coast Guard, have fanned out across the United States to sell the high school class of 2004 on the benefits of joining the military. They aren't looking for a few good men any more. Today, in the shadow of Afghanistan and Iraq, they're looking for a lot of good men and women — 226,930 to be exact, if the services are to meet their quotas.
So far, there is no shortage of applicants. Backed by a $340-million advertising budget, all five service branches have signed enough volunteers to put them at — or within an eyelash of — their recruiting goals for the year. But for this year's crop of enlistees there is a caveat: In 12 months, many could be in Iraq.
"The war really hasn't had any impact on recruiting, though I anticipate it could eventually," said Lt. Col. Ken Thompson, enlisted-recruiting chief for the Marine Corps, which cultivates a battle-hardened image of being always ready to fight.
Fifty Marines were killed in Iraq in April, the service's heaviest monthly loss since the Vietnam War. "What we're seeing is a polarization," Thompson said. "Those who didn't want to go into the military definitely don't want to do it now. And those who do want a military career are more gung-ho than ever."
Said Marine recruit Richard Simpson, 17: "The war doesn't worry me. In fact, that's why I enlisted. My father's Air Force. He was in the first Gulf War and just returned from Qatar. My mother's in the Navy. My brother joined the Army. ... Now I want to do my part."
The Marines say it costs $9,657 to court, sign and ship to boot camp a single recruit. Twenty percent of enlistees back out of their contracts before the bus leaves for boot camp at Parris Island, S.C.
When Samuel walked into John and Linda Sanders' home near the end of a 13-hour day, his message for their son, Jonathan, was: "You can be one of us." The four of them sat around the kitchen table as Samuel sold intangibles — pride, leadership, honor, courage, belonging — instead of the promise of benefits. Jonathan was ready to sign on the dotted line.
"But he's only 17. He's not sure he knows what he wants," his mother said. Jonathan rolled his eyes.
They talked for three hours and agreed to meet again.
A few days later, in Richmond, Va., Jerron Hargrove, 18, was preparing to raise his right hand and recite the Marine oath of enlistment — to "support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic ... "
"Tuck in your shirt, Hargrove," a sergeant said. "And pull up your pants. When the captain comes in, I'm going to call you to attention. You do it like this: Put your feet apart at 45 degrees, hands behind your back. That's parade rest. When I call attention, keep your right foot in place and bring your left foot over to it, heels touching."
Hargrove said he joined the Marines because he knew that he needed a disciplined, structured life. Was he worried about going to Iraq? "Not really," he said. "Same thing's going on over there that's going on where I live. Shootings and stuff like that. We got them every night in my neighborhood."
The journey from recruit to Marine will end for Hargrove and about 16,000 others this year — average age 19 — at Parris Island, where a sign inside the gate declares: "We Make Marines." There, for 12 weeks, young volunteers endure the mental and physical rigors of boot camp. One in 10 doesn't make it.
The sun beat down on the Parris Island salt marshes. At the parade field, grandparents and parents sat in bleachers, umbrellas and newspapers shading their heads. Lee Greenwood's recording of "God Bless the U.S.A." swept across the grounds as the graduating boot camp class of 307 stood at attention. Drill instructors presented a pin bearing the Marine emblem — an eagle, globe and anchor — to each member of the class.
Among those placing emblems on their caps was Brian Roberts, 18, of Ann Arbor, Mich., who at 10 had written the Marine Corps commandant a letter saying he wanted to be a Marine.
"Of course, Iraq is a worry," said his mother, Joni Pechuekonis, "but Brian and I talked about it, and we both agree a short life with purpose is better than a long life without purpose."
