Starting on the first of November, you may have noticed the Facebook profile pictures of certain friends undergo a quick change. Where the day before faces were smiling benignly while holding a wife, pet, or grandchildren, or were a cheerful cartoon caricature, suddenly there’s a Marine. Or an eagle, globe, and anchor. We Marines take the approach of November 10th, our birthday and anniversary of our founding, very seriously as celebrations go.

And we talk smack. Because we can.

On November 10, 1775, the Continental Congress passed a resolution authorizing the raising of two battalions of Marines (original here).

Resolved, That two Battalions of marines be raised, consisting of one Colonel, two Lieutenant Colonels, two Majors, and other officers as usual in other regiments; and that they consist of an equal number of privates with other battalions; that particular care be taken, that no persons be appointed to office, or enlisted into said Battalions, but such as are good seamen, or so acquainted with maritime affairs as to be able to serve to advantage by sea when required; that they be enlisted and commissioned to serve for and during the present war between Great Britain and the colonies, unless dismissed by order of Congress: that they be distinguished by the names of the first and second battalions of American Marines, and that they be considered as part of the number which the continental Army before Boston is ordered to consist of.

Ordered, That a copy of the above be transmitted to the General.

The first commissioned officer in the Marines, Samuel Nicolas, was charged with the task of filling those battalions and wasted no time. That very afternoon he trotted over to a popular Philadelphia watering hole called Tun Tavern and appointed Quaker proprietor Robert Mullan as the first Marine Corps recruiter.

…Men flocked to the tavern to take up arms as the first Continental Marines fighting for their new country in the American Revolution.

Mullan hardly had to lift a finger, and the legend of the birth of the Marine Corps in a bar was born. We cherish it – nobody else can say that. Nichols remained the senior Marine officer throughout the Revolutionary War and we consider him to be our 1st Commandant. After the Treaty of Paris in 1783, however, the seagoing services were dismantled, the Navy’s ships sold, and the Continental Marines disbanded.

A growing, prosperous young nation has a way of finding itself needing those very services eventually, though. On 11 July 1798, the Marines were formally re-established and proceeded to become the stuff of legend we know them as today, engraving the names of the myriad people and places we as Marines hold reverent and sacred in the history books: Tripoli, Presley O’Bannon, Quallah Battoo, Chapultapec (where both the red “blood stripe” on our NCO and officer trousers as well as “From the halls of Montezuma” originated), Belleau Wood, Teufel Hunden, Smedley Butler, Dan Daly, Banana Wars, Chesty Puller, Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Iwo Jima, Basilone, Vandergrift, Boyington, the Solomons, Chosin, Joe Foss, Ray Davis, Hathcock, Hue City, John Canley, Fallujah, Kabul …I haven’t enough room for them all, and we know them all.

Every last one is a part of our very being as a Marine – we are as imbued with legacy and tradition as if it were a DNA strand. That strand connects us to our fellows Marines whatever our occupation was while in, and to the Marines who have passed before us. It’s unbreakable.

In the case of our family, it’s been a generational thing on both sides, starting with that handsome enlisted fellow above just after WWI (My maternal gramps, who wound up retiring as a LtCol). His sons…

…my Daddy…

…my amazing husband and I,…

…not to mention my little brother and a nephew are all Marines. Plus the literally hordes of friends and cherished Marine Corps family made along the way.

Hence the party on November 10th every year – rowdy glasses raised, steak and cake consumed, perhaps a full-blown Marine Corps ball or even something as simple as a quiet moment of reflection on memories and sea stories.

Unfailingly, we reach out to each other to bark,

“Happy Birthday, Marine!”

Even if it’s some gnarly-looking fellow you’ve never seen before in your life passing you with a beat-up Vietnam USMC hat on. What’s he do? He barks right back at you, and you both have sh*t-eatin’ grins on for the rest of the day. It’s an indescribably sublime feeling.

Whatever our circumstances, whatever our health or politics, we are members of the coolest, most exclusive club on earth, and no one can ever take that away from us. We have had the rare and most wonderful privilege of serving this great nation in the finest uniform on the face of this planet. We are grateful for it, and most would do it again in a heartbeat – just call if you need us. We will always have your back.

We are brothers…

…we are sisters.

We are United States Marines.

Semper Fidelis