head was shaved and he was given a number. He met a new god-like figure, the Drill Instructor, and learned the three ways of doing things: the right way, the wrong way, and the Marine Corps way. Discipline was harsh and corporal punishment was common. In spite of the shock, Manchester somehow concluded that he adored Parris Island.
How could I enjoy this? Parts of it, of course, I loathed. But the basic concept fascinated me. I wanted to surrender my individuality, curbing my neck beneath the yoke of petty tyranny. Since my father’s death I had yearned for stern discipline, and Parris Island, where he himself had learned discipline a quarter-century earlier, gave it to me in spades. Physically I was delicate, even fragile, but I had limitless reservoirs of energy, and I could feel myself toughening almost hourly. Everything I saw seemed exquisitely defined—every leaf, every pebble looked as sharp as a drawing in a book. I knew I was merely becoming a tiny cog in the vast machine which would confront fascism, but that was precisely why I had volunteered.171
William Manchester brought a great writer’s discernment to a brutal process. He saw through his own personal agony to the higher purpose of this experience. To win a war, many good men had to subject themselves to the severest discipline. There are times in our lives when God’s discipline can also be difficult to endure and to understand. God disciplines us mainly through our hardships and setbacks, and, when we allow these experiences to bring us closer to him, we grow that much “tougher” for our service in his kingdom.
Know then in your heart that as a man disciplines his son, so the Lord your God disciplines you.
May 5
Abraham Felber landed at Red Beach on Guadalcanal with the first wave of Marines on August 7, 1942. He was a thirty-six-year-old sergeant and grizzled veteran of the old Corps. As 1st Sergeant of Headquarters Battery, 11th Marines, it was up to him to pass on the time-honored traditions of the Corps to the younger men. Some of those traditions were contained in an unwritten code that distinguished the Old Breed. According to Felber, the “Code” required certain things of every Marine:
You don’t hold a grudge against your fellow Marine, and you don’t let anyone hold a grudge against you. You settle matters here and now. If words don’t work, then with fists.
You take the responsibility, and you take the blame, even if it’s not yours.
When war comes, you fight, because that’s what you owe your country.
In war, you depend for your life on your fellow Marine, and he depends for his life on you.
You respect your own sailors and airmen doing battle for you. They are fighting and dying in the skies and on the seas to protect you. That’s a service you can’t return to them.
You respect your enemy. They are husbands, fathers, and sons who fight and die just as bravely as you do.
And when the warrior’s day is done, and your nation seems quick to forget your sacrifice and your honor, you remain ever faithful, ever loyal.172
The “Code” was an unusual blend of toughness and compassion that probably had its roots centuries ago among the knights of England. It was harsh and unyielding in war and chivalrous in peace, calling each man to a higher level of personal responsibility for his actions. In the end, it reflects the motto of the Marine Corps:
His master replied, ”Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!”
May 6
As the 1st Marine Division hit the beaches on Guadalcanal, two battalions made simultaneous landings less than twenty miles away on the little island of Tulagi. Here the Marines got a taste of the fanatical resistance they would face for the rest of the war. It took three days of bitter fighting to secure the little island.
Lt. Paul Moore was a platoon commander in the Tulagi invasion force. Within just a year he had graduated from Yale, joined the Marine Corps, trained as an infantry officer, and sailed half way around the world to this remote spot. He now found himself in a place that he had never even heard of a few weeks before. It was a challenge just to exist in the jungle with almost constant rain and the sickening stench of decaying vegetation. He was shocked at his first sight of dead Japanese, and affected even more by the sight of wounded and dead fellow Marines. A few days after the island was secured he attended a religious service that left a lasting impression:
Sunday came several days after Tulagi had been secured. It may even have been the third day, when we were still very dirty and still terribly upset by our first experience with death. The whole outfit, those who were not on duty, came down to the cricket field, and the chaplain celebrated mass. The only clean thing on that entire island was the white linen, which he had salvaged to put over the makeshift altar, and perhaps his vestments. I remember having—it sounds sentimental—but a feeling, you know, about the world being broken, sinful, full of horror, terror, filth, but God being still pure. I had a real sense of reassurance.173
Every Episcopal church has an altar guild of church people who voluntarily serve to maintain the altar linens and priestly vestments in an immaculate condition. I will never again take this service lightly after hearing the testimony of this Marine lieutenant on Tulagi. What a glorious mission: to give a hint of God’s purity by this attention to detail in the physical elements of worship. These physical symbols of God’s holiness are just as meaningful in our Sunday church services today as they were on a jungle island in wartime.
Such a high priest meets our need one who is holy, blameless, pure, set apart from sinners, exalted above the heavens.
May 7
The Marines were pinned down by an enemy machine gun and were taking casualties. Lt. Paul Moore raised
