the Beginning

by John Krill

My first introduction to the Marine Corps came in the summer of '60. I was 16 that summer. Got my driver's license. And we were living at Paradise Cove, Malibu, Ca. Next to our trailer was two brothers and their families. The brothers were ex-Marines.

The brothers had survived the Korean War. That was 1951. That met that '60 wasn't that long since their war experience.

One of the brothers had been a machine gunner and during one battle was hit and knocked unconscious. Overrun by the Chinese his chances were not good. But here he was telling me all this. Somehow the Chinese had assumed he was dead and just left him.

So how did they get from Korea to Paradise Cove?

This is how they were able to be at Paradise Cove, drinking Buds, belching, and burning their chest hairs — the Marines never leave anyone behind. They go back and get those left behind - dead and alive.

"Don't ever forget this! The Marines NEVER leave anyone behind. Never. Ever," the brothers said many times. They never tired of telling anyone who would listen. The Proud, the Few.

I didn't forget.

In 1965 the draft was after me. Navy was out. Little boats, big ocean. Army was out. Large, confused, disorganized. Air Force? Tried that first. Wanted to be a navigator. Poor hearing. Failed physical.

Went to the Marine recruiter. "No problem. Sign here."

I did.

I was born a photographer. My dad was a very good photographer. Had been since he took it up in the late 20s. Had been offered a job as a photographer in Chicago. This was the 30s. Depression. Instead he became an Electrical Engineer. Graduated from Columbia College.

My first camera was a box. Take 12 exposures. Insert one dollar. Put your return address on the box and send it in. In short order get the pictures and the box back with 12 more exposures. Ready to go. I was six years old. Photographed my friends on their bicycles and playing ball. Action stuff. I had it then!

Next camera was a Kodak Pony 35. Manual focus, speed, and aperture settings. But the lens was coated for color film. Took better pictures than dad's old Kodak 35.

So dad buys a Nikon F in Hong Kong. Duty free. Smuggled it in.

He tells me, "Don't touch it!"

Yea, sure.

He finally caught me with the Nikon. But that was after using it many times over a couple of years.

My senior year in high school my best friend, Phil Cripps, gets me to take photography. I do. Teacher is John Wordes. Best teacher I ever had.

The second semester of my senior year Mr. Wordes moved me over to the yearbook staff. Great fun. I would work any hours, do any job. Spent many hours in the darkroom processing film and making prints. Learned much. Great experience. I loved it. Only two of us got an A that semester. Phil Cripps and me. That felt good. Really good.

note: I wasn't the only Hoover High photographer on the yearbook staff that joined the Marines. Not long ago I did a search at the Wall web site for people my age who lived in Glendale, Ca. Found one name, Greg Kelly. I looked in my yearbook and there he was. He was killed in Vietnam in June, '67. He was the only one from Hoover High School, Glendale, Ca., Class of '62, killed in Vietnam.

My parents were dead set against photography. I didn't have enough confidence (Make that no confidence.) to resist them. Went to school to become an architect. Didn't happen.

I worked for an architect for two summers. I didn't like what I saw. Most of the work was very boring.

At Cal Poly San Louis Obispo the architecture courses were very rigid. I wanted to take some pure art classes. Free hand drawing, stuff like that. There wasn't any art courses at that school. There was a pottery class but no drawing or painting classes. Flunked second semester. Put on probation. Left school instead.

Worked here, there and attended the local junior college, Glendale College. I thought I had verified that none of the classes I was taking at Glendale conflicted with what I had done at Cal Poly. Every adult I talked to at the school said it wasn't a problem. Wrong!

I get a letter from the school (They didn't have the nerve to tell me in person.) that most of my classes overlapped what I had taken at Cal Poly. So now it's 11 units not 17 units. Hello draft board. Hello Marines.

After joining the Marines, but before I went off to boot camp, I received my draft notice. How could they draft me, I was already in the Marines?

I went to the draft board office out in the valley. It was mobbed with kids trying to get out of the draft. I finally get my turn and the woman behind the counter ask, "And how can I help you?"

"You can't draft me."

"Oh, and why is that?" she asks with that bored, I've heard it all, look.

"Because I'm already in the Marines."

It was loud in this place and either she didn't hear all I said or just couldn't believe what she was hearing.

She responds, "What did you say?"

I kinda yelled, "I'm in the Marines lady!"

Now it got really quite. I look around and all eyes are on me. Yea, I know what they were thinking, "That idiot really say he joined the Marines?"

The counter lady said, "Just a moment." She goes back to another woman at a desk in the back of the office.

The woman returns and tells me to go see that lady. Pointing at the woman she just talked to.

I go over and introduce myself and show her the draft notice and explain that I had already joined the Marines on May 22 and I sure didn't want to go into the Army.

She asked, "You say you're already enlisted in the Marines?"

"Yes."

"You have your driver's license?"

'Yea, right here." I handed her my license.

"O.K. let me verify this. Wait hear"

She leaves. I look at the photos on her desk. There is one with three young Marines. Interesting.

She returns and said, "You're set now. We just had to verify your enlistment."

I said, "Marines?" Pointing to the picture.

"Yes, my sons. They're all at Camp Pendleton. Don't know what will happen to them. Their dad was a Marine in WWII. What made you join the Marines?"

I told her about the two bothers at Paradise Cove. Told her I tried the Air Force first.

She wished me luck.

Her wished worked. I'm still here and telling the story.

That is one experience I will never forget.

[ boot camp experience ]

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