ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This story is a bi-product of research on or about the United States Marine Corps, the intent of which was not a science fiction adventure by any means. My research was a delving into a world of common men and women with uncommon commitment and pride in their work, an unwavering attitude and patriotism that even the newest graduate of Parris Island can trace back to Tun’s Tavern, Philadelphia, better than 200 years earlier, event by event. In my opinion, this is the essence of the US Marine, if not the Corps itself. I believe this understanding of Self and Purpose will never change as it is what makes a Marine more unique than any soldier to ever walk the face of this planet—or any other, for that matter. My gratitude to the Corps for its assistance goes without saying, and I would like to thank the following Marines, both active and former active duty, for their direct input, advice and guidance.
Active Duty at time of writing Retired
Gunnery Sergeant Mark Lowers Private Simone (Seebo) D’Alessio Sr.
Sergeant Robert (Opie) Parsons Corporal Simone D’Alessio Jr.
Staff Sergeant Richard Hull Corporal Anthony (Egg roll) Caponigro
Sergeant Eric Blunt Sergeant Adam Renzouli
Corporal Joseph (Meatball) Stivalo
Private Max Gutuarez
Private First Class Chris Fried
In Memory
Corporal Robert Osterman, USMC, Viet Nam Era
Special thanks to Lieutenant Thomas H. McLaughlin, firearms instructor and assistant range master, Essex County, New Jersey Police Academy for sharing his family history and extensive firearms knowledge with me.
Special thanks to the crews at the Beaufort Air Station, The Marine Training Depot at Parris Island, South Carolina. Thanks to Sergeant Major Henry of the Parris Island Staff, and Sergeants Williams and Torres for their cordial assistance in this endeavor.
Also, for their support and encouragement, this book is dedicated to:
Dr. C.B. Stasheff, PhD, and Gunnery Sergeant Mark Lowers.
The Language of the Corps
One of the most difficult concepts the civilian reader will have to deal with is the Marine Corps usage of the human voice as a tool to instruct and command attention. A Drill Instructor's voice will rise in pitch and intensity and a Boot will in very short order understand that his DI's words will say one thing and the tone of his voice, another.
It will rise from casual
My Gran'daddy was a horse Marine
To yellow alert
ALL HE WORE WAS MARINE CORPS GREEN
To red alert
HE ATE STEAKS TEN INCHES THICK
To ballistic
PICKED HIS TEETH WITH A GUIDON STICK.
The Corps traditionally has employed the terminology of the Navy and developed a language of its own which is used almost as a second language to convey the Marine Way of doing things. Motivated individuals are given nic-names. Descriptions of places become place names and so forth. To the uninitiated, it can be very confusing so I will attempt to use it minimally.
Peter Lou
THE UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS
...WE STOLE THE EAGLE FROM THE AIR FORCE,
THE ANCHOR FROM THE NAVY
AND THE ROPE FROM THE ARMY.
ON THE SEVENTH DAY, WHILE GOD WAS RESTING,
WE OVERRAN HIS PERIMETER AND STOLE THE GLOBE.
WE'VE BEEN RUNNING THE SHOW EVER SINCE.
WE LIVE LIKE SOLDIERS,
TALK LIKE SAILORS,
FLY LIKE EAGLES
AND CAN SLAP THE HELL OUT OF ALL OF THEM!
MARINE, BY GOD!
ALWAYS A MARINE BY HEART!
SEMPER FIDELIS.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
THE GLASS MARINES
Part I
NOVEMBER 10, 2029
On a warm November morning in the year 2029, a Malacan ship visited a small green planet in an otherwise barren solar system. Due to a 'slip up' in paperwork some 3500 years earlier, an order of statues had been deposited on Easter Island and had to be reclaimed for delivery to their proper owners. Much to the surprise and (to some extent) terror of the grounds crews at Port Newark Airport, the little beggars had circled twice, requested permission to land, in Old English no less (a problem caused by a slight calculation error by the ship’s navigator in the space & time continuum flow which had caused them to arrive not only in the wrong year, but on the wrong side of the planet), and dropped down on runway twelve. Despite the fact that updating the language translators would take almost a full day, having been spotted on the radarscopes of virtually every major nation on the planet, it seemed the proper thing to do.
Needless to say, the Army was called in.
The Army sat there for several hours watching what they were certain was the beginning of an invasion. It seemed to most that the thirty or forty three-quarter sized visitors were securing a perimeter, as boxes and all manner of strange items were rapidly unloaded in strategic areas around the circumference of their strange craft. The Army, with a stroke of strategic brilliance, decided that surrounding them was the way to go. As more and more firepower arrived for the Army, their alien counter parts pulled more and more boxes from their ship. At one point the visitors appeared to initiate some sort of large, rectangular device. As slabs of a strangely colored rubbery material were thrown inside, it began to emit an odor that could only be equated to barbeque. For the next hour, the pace became more and more furious on both sides. Then, almost as if at a predetermined mark, all activity stopped and for the next several hours both the ship's crew and the military stood, facing each other, at the 'ready'.
Finally, a young Marine Lieutenant named Griffen, fresh out of the Quantico's Officers Candidate School, despite roaring Army protests, walked calmly from the Evac Chopper he was in charge of up to what seemed to be the leader of this rather sedate invasion force. For the next 45 minutes both he and the Malacan Captain waved fingers, hands, feet and legs at each other—whatever it took to get their respective meanings across. Finally they shook hands and the Lieutenant walked calmly back to the officer in charge, having swapped a Swiss Army knife and an old Zippo lighter for a wrist watch from some place that had 28.7 hours in its day, and three pairs of socks made from a wool-like material (which, twenty-five years later, Griffen still hadn't worn out). It was the start of a "beautiful friendship" and the opening of a door to the greater scheme of things.
The young Lieutenant approached the Commanding Officer, waving the weaponry down, and still pensively examining his acquisitions.
"Sir,” he said absently as he examined his new possessions, "I think we've expected too much of outer space. I dare say 'Buck Rogers' is dead!"
* * *
