The 233rd birthday of the Marine Corps is 10 November. It's the day when Marines throughout the world—both active and former—will be attending celebrations and galas. Young Marines in their first set of dress blues, accompanied by their equally young girlfriends wearing last year's high school prom dresses, will proudly rub elbows with the captains, majors, and other senior officers under whom they serve.
But this day isn't necessarily a formal occasion; all over the country fathers dress up to take their Marine sons out for an evening, or a son will be sure to take his old man out for a few drinks. You see, tradition isn't built on dining and dancing, it's built on the remembrance and recognition of those who came before you.
In many cases, being a Marine is a family tradition. There are many birthday balls where sons, fathers, uncles, and cousins attend en masse—a family fire-team or a 155-mm gun crew, if you like—and they'll tell you that becoming a Marine was one way of following in Dad's footsteps. In many cases, becoming a Marine was something they'd wanted to do since they were little boys.
It's hard to know what came first, the mystique of being a Marine, or the history and traditions that built the mystique; regardless, these Marines grabbed the concept and never let it go. Maybe they liked the way Dad carried himself, or maybe the stories of Tarawa, Chosin, or Hu?
City appealed to them. But being a Marine was part of their essential nature, part of their reason for being.
Some careers come with their own lasting dignity: hard jobs like steel worker, policeman, or Marine. Jobs where by the end of the day I-beams have been produced, drug dealers arrested, or villages cleared of insurgents. Jobs where sweat, effort, and dedication are considered as important as education.
It's an unusual thing about these jobs: those who have them look at life in moral, instead of economic terms. These men tend to ignore income levels, job titles, and frequent-flyer miles earned, and instead rank other men in terms of who can provide for their families, or who has the courage to dash out into the street under fire to drag back a wounded buddy. You can spot them by the way they look you in the eye and the way they carry themselves.
So today is their day, whether at home or deployed. Be it in formal dinners here, the dust and sand of al Anbar, or those nasty forward operating bases in southern and eastern Afghanistan, Marines will celebrate the birthday of their Corps. Around the globe, in various climes and places, this year, last year, and next year, the following scene will play out:
Whether the celebration is big or small, there is a birthday cake. Maybe it's not fancy, and maybe it gets cut with a Ka-Bar, but there's a cake. In the tradition of the Corps, the oldest Marine at the service will present the first piece of cake to the youngest. Now, the term "youngest Marine" may be a misnomer—with many Marines overseas on their third or fourth deployments this generation of combat veterans rivals the experience and courage of World War II's "greatest generation." But this is how Marine tradition is passed on from the senior Marine to the youngest: "You are one of us. You are part of an organization that is older than the United States itself. The courage of your predecessors is part of your heritage. You are one of us—now go and pass it on."
And that's what brings us back to today; the 233rd birthday of the Marine Corps, where being part of something larger than themselves, where hard work, sweat, brotherhood, and tradition are part of every day, and where terms like "honor," "courage," and "commitment" remain the way of life for The Few, The Proud, The Marines.