http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324407504578185230593926380.html?mod=opinion_newsreel
The Marines are the most celebrated but least understood of our four military services. They have done a brilliant job of burnishing their martial image, from the days of the 1949 John Wayne movie “The Sands of Iwo Jima” to today’s “The Few, the Proud, the Marines” commercials. With nearly 200,000 personnel and their own aircraft, tanks and artillery, they comprise one of the most capable military forces in the world. But so adept have the Marines become at telling their story—somehow the even less-than-heroic portrayals in “Gomer Pyle, USMC” and “Heavy Metal Jacket” have enhanced their reputation—that it isn’t always easy to separate myth from reality.That is a task that Aaron B. O’Connell, a history professor at the Naval Academy and himself a Marine reservist, tackles with brio in his absorbing account of the Marines between 1941 and 1965, “Underdogs: The Making of the Modern Marine Corps.” Prior to World War II, Mr. O’Connell notes, the Corps “was tiny, unpopular and institutionally disadvantaged”—it had just 50,000 men, and it was seen as an adjunct of the Navy. Its commandant was a two-star general who didn’t even merit a seat on the newly created Joint Chiefs of Staff in 1942.By the start of the Vietnam War in 1965, the situation was quite different. As Mr. O’Connell writes, “the Corps had almost quadrupled in size”; its commandant was a four-star general and a member of the Joint Chiefs; and it had long eclipsed its earlier role as a force designed to seize temporary forward bases for the Navy. It had, in fact, become virtually a second Army, which in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan was to perform the same mission as the larger ground service.
Its growth in the face of opposition from the other services and civilian officials—Harry Truman wanted the Corps cut back to a naval police force—can seem puzzling. Mr. O’Connell tries to explain the success of the Marines by arguing that they had developed a culture like no other, which celebrated the individual warrior (“Every Marine a rifleman”), that extolled sacrifice and kept bureaucracy to a minimum. “They were the service least enamored with machines and computers,” he writes, “and most committed to intimate, spiritual, and transcendent themes.” That, in turn, made the Marines a favorite of politicians and the public.