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Leatherneck Times

Now hear this....now hear this.... Attention All Hands... Announcing the return of the Leatherneck Times - a bi-monthly newsletter for the Marines & Corpsman of the Leathernecks MC in electronic format. Please read the attached and spread the word. This would not be possible without the commitment and efforts of Tim DeWolf (McWoodstock) Creator and Editor-in-Chief. Thank you McWoodstock!

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Origin of Wounded Warrior Regiment

Injured Marine cited as leader

Jay Price, Staff Writer
The News & Observer
Nov. 20, 2007

Three years ago this week, Lt. Col. Tim Maxwell was discharged from the
hospital, wondering how much he was going to recover from a major head
injury he suffered when a mortar shell landed on his tent in Iraq.

Now Esquire magazine is honoring the Marine as one of the "Best and
Brightest of 2007" in its December issue, which appears on newsstands
today.

The accompanying article isn't just about Maxwell, who has become a
legend at Camp Lejeune. It also offers a raw, R-rated glimpse of life
inside the Wounded Warrior Barracks on the Marine base near
Jacksonville.

Maxwell, 42, helped start the barracks after he was wounded. One day,
after being released from the hospital and returning to Lejeune to
recuperate, the former triathlete came upon a Marine who had been
wounded and sent home. The young man was alone and crying.

That shouldn't happen, Maxwell said, and he and Master Sgt. Ken Barnes
started lobbying Marine leaders for housing so the wounded Marines could
live together while they recovered in a supportive environment.

Concept expands

After they got the barracks started at Lejeune -- it's called Maxwell
Hall
-- the concept spread to the West Coast, where the Marines at Camp
Pendleton set up similar housing. Then this past spring, the Corps
decided to start a nationwide wounded- warrior regiment, so that injured
Marines would have a supportive unit around them. The idea even spread
to the Army, which has begun its own wounded-troops unit.

Maxwell recently took an assignment as an adviser to the Wounded Warrior
Regiment at Marine Corps Base Quantico, Va. Among other duties, he's the
officer in charge of the regiment's new call center, which opens this
week.
The center will take calls from wounded Marines and try to find
solutions to their problems, Maxwell said. It also will begin an effort
to contact every Marine who has been injured since Sept. 11, 2001, in
combat or otherwise, to see if he or she needs help of any kind.

The story in Esquire also includes Maxwell's wife, Shannon, who has
dedicated much of her own life to helping wounded troops. She founded a
support group at Lejeune for the spouses of wounded Marines and was a
co-founder of Hope for the Warriors, a nonprofit organization that
raises money for the wounded. Last week, she won an honor for her work
from the National Military Family Association.

'I don't know why...'

The Esquire story also details the lives of the young Marines living in
the barracks. Maxwell said that he could have done without the sexual
references but that the attention would help his cause.

"I'll take credit from anybody to put the word out," said Maxwell, who
still stumbles over his words sometimes. "There are still guys out there
who don't know anything about this, and they're just sitting there
alone.

"Reporters will call and want to do a Maxwell story because I'm the most
well-known," he said. "We get 'em out to the barracks, and they cry when
they leave. It really gets them."

Maxwell said he was a little bewildered that he had been picked by the
magazine.

"Esquire had this dinner up in New York last week, and I don't know why
I was a part of it," he said. "They had all these geniuses there, people
who had invented important stuff.

"I just figured Marines ought to hang out together," he said. "That's
not genius stuff."

Tim Maxwell started Wounded Battalion

Ringo and Wildman are kickin' it with Jo Jo, Hazy, Sergeant D, and the rest of the Devil Dogs in the rec room at Maxwell Hall when who should come through the hatch but the old man himself, Lieutenant Colonel Tim Maxwell, the guy for whom the barracks was named.

Thick shouldered and squared away, Maxwell is dressed in his digital cammies -- the sleeves of his tunic rolled cleanly to his biceps, the trouser cuffs banded securely around the shanks of his sand-colored suede combat boots -- the uniform of the day aboard Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Forty-two years old with nineteen years in (twenty-three if you count ROTC), Maxwell did five deployments overseas without a scratch. Then one afternoon in 2004, three months into his sixth, near the southern Iraqi town of Iskandariyah, he decided to take a power nap -- fifteen minutes after chow. He'd heard about it somewhere: Many leaders through history had done the same, a short pause to refresh.

Now he pauses just inside the door of Maxwell Hall and looks around, smiling his slightly crooked smile -- the right side of his face still lags; it might come back or it might not, there is no way to predict. The room has been recently repainted, the windows replaced; the new carpet is due soon -- the workmen have moved on to the fitness center next door. It is July. Outside, the temperature and the humidity are both in the high 90s. Tree frogs bark, cicadas sing their familiar summer song in the lush and tangled undergrowth. In here it is air-conditioned, a cool 69 degrees. A couple dozen enlisted men and NCOs are hanging out -- shooting eight ball, playing Call of Duty on a new Xbox 360, watching a cable movie on the big flat-screen TV. One group is huddled together on doctor's-office-variety chairs, talking smack, scratching, waiting for pizzas to be delivered so they can eat their afternoon pain meds, which need to be taken with food. (The chow hall is just across the way. Nobody eats there, even though the cost of meals is deducted from their pay, which runs about $1,700 a month for a corporal, $1,300 for a private.) A couple of the guys are racked out on the new leather sofas -- one kid with his mouth wide open is snoring loud enough to interrupt the dialogue of the movie, Risky Business, about carefree high school boys in the affluent suburbs. Two more guys luxuriate in massage chairs, fancy models like something from Sharper Image, the hum of which is clearly audible beneath the raucous clubhouse din generated by this assembly of young men, most of them in their late teens and early twenties, most of them damaged beyond full repair. In conversation, Maxwell calls them "my marines." He has a thickish Southern drawl that he picked up from some mysterious recess of his brain when he began to recover his speech after the injury. In fact, he was born in Ohio.

Maxwell spots the guy he's looking for, moves in that direction, his gait powerful but uneven, like Chesty the Bulldog with a limp. He has a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes; there is a large scar on the left side of his head, a ropey pink question mark that runs like concertina wire below the hedge line of his high-and-tight military flattop. He has trouble reading and taking instructions, his short-term memory is shot -- it took him forever to build the little fort in the backyard for his son, he had to keep rereading each step of the directions over and over again. He tells his daughter to put refrigerator on her tuna sandwich. He refers to the airport as "the place where people come to fly" and to Somalia, where he once served, as "that country in Africa." His hernia, which he kept a painful secret so as not to miss his final deployment, is "that problem with your nuts." He calls the family's new dog Magic instead of Miracle (though he can remember perfectly the name of their old dog, Bella). His right arm and right leg are functional but "clumpy'' -- he can still run several miles on a treadmill; he does three sets of ten bicep curls, thirty-five pounds each. Though his IQ, his reflexes, his limb strength, all of his measurable functions are down from their "factory original," as he likes to put it, he is still within what doctors tell him are "acceptable ranges." Acceptable to whom? Maxwell wonders. He will never be the same. He will never be as good. It weighs on him, you can tell. He is the type of man who has spent his whole life pushing and striving, trying to raise his score or to lower his time, a man who never took the easy path: As a high school kid, he wanted to play lineman in football, even though he weighed only 140 pounds. He took his undergrad degree in industrial engineering and a masters in management and statistics, even though he struggled with math. He eats "morale" pills (he tried four varieties before settling on Effexor), antiseizure pills (five varieties), more pills every day than he is capable of recalling. All the pills have side effects. The list is a mile long. Here is the list for Effexor: constipation, dizziness, dry mouth, insomnia, loss of appetite, nausea, nervousness, sexual side effects, sleepiness, sweating, and weakness. Ask your doctor if Effexor may be right for you. Oooh-rah. Sometimes, his brain starts to crash -- that is his word for it. His speech becomes slurry; he gets this look on his face like a guy who has been up for several days doing alcohol and drugs. He just has to shut it all down and go to bed. It happened earlier this week, after he drove the six hours in his old green Land Rover to Quantico, Virginia, to meet his new boss. He is still on active duty. He's due to report to his new billet in one week.

Corporal Justin Kinnee is sitting on one of the sofas, staring at the flat-screen through a pair of dark Nike sport sunglasses, the kind issued to troops in Iraq. Several of the guys in the room are wearing them. Extreme sensitivity to light can be another side effect of some drugs. It is also a symptom of a traumatic brain injury (TBI). In previous U. S. military conflicts, 14 to 20 percent of surviving casualties reportedly suffered TBIs. Of the twenty-eight thousand American troops injured so far in Iraq, anywhere from a quarter to a half are estimated to have suffered TBIs. In bygone days, after you got whacked, the Marine Corps gave you a Purple Heart -- the medal that no marine wants -- and a discharge. Then they sent you on your way to deal with the Veterans Administration for the rest of your life. Now, due to Maxwell's efforts, there is not only a barracks for wounded warriors aboard Camp Lejeune (and another aboard Camp Pendleton in California), there is also a brand-new Wounded Warrior Regiment in the Marine Corps. That's why Maxwell is moving -- he's joining the general staff as an advisor. Though none of the men know it yet, this is his last day in Maxwell Hall.

Before he enlisted, Kinnee was a sheriff's deputy in Cherokee County, Georgia. He'd been in Iraq three months when a piece of shrapnel ripped open his neck. He lost five of his six quarts of blood, stroked out, died in the dust. Somehow, they saved him. There is a precise-looking scar on his head, just right of center -- running from the front hairline to the back, like a part scissored into his crew cut, which he has trimmed for seven dollars every Sunday after church -- where they removed a portion of his skull to allow his brain to swell after the stroke. Now he has an acrylic plate and twenty screws, "five screws per manhole cover," he likes to say; you can feel where the plate starts. As a result of the stroke, his left arm doesn't work. He takes special meds to keep it from becoming palsied; at night, he also sleeps with a brace on his hand. After he sits down, he will typically use his right hand to reach over and pick up his left arm by the wrist and place it on his lap, this inert thing attached to him that must be managed. "How you doin', Kinnee?" Maxwell asks, leaning on the arm of the sofa opposite.

Kinnee looks up, groggy at first, uninterested. Then he realizes who's in front of him and snaps to a seated form of attention. Though he can't fully dress himself without help -- the fussy rolled cuffs and trouser ties, the calf-high lace-up boots; "try putting on a sock with one hand," he says in his typical challenging tone, the result of personality changes and disinhibition caused by the death of the right hemisphere of his brain -- he is one of the more motivated marines in Maxwell Hall, at least when it comes to doing chores and maintaining military discipline. Having joined later in life than most of these guys, Kinnee, twenty-six, is more serious. He made corporal in only two years. This was going to be a career for him.

"Fine and dandy, sir," Kinnee answers dryly. There is a cast to his face, a waxen awkwardness, as if the left side and right side are expressing different emotions simultaneously. Think of your mouth after dental surgery. He always carries tissues or a napkin to mop up any moisture. Kinnee's tongue is tricky, too, as is Maxwell's. The words come out with some difficulty.

"Your morale seems better," Maxwell drawls. "That trip home musta did you good. Did you get that ball for your hand?"

"No, sir."

"Come on, man." Maxwell thumps the corporal playfully on the shoulder. Before he was injured, Kinnee was bench-pressing 225 pounds. He carried heavy radio equipment in the field. He studies his boots.

"How much does it work?" Maxwell asks, his tone bright and encouraging.

Looking up: "What?"

"The arm. How much does it work? Does it have some utility?"

"I can squeeze the hand shut but I can't open it," Kinnee says. He doesn't bother to demonstrate.

"Fuckin' brain injuries," Maxwell says, shaking his head. "You know that, um -- what's that chubby kid's name?"

"Reynolds?"

"Reynolds," Maxwell repeats, tapping the front of his broad forehead with his fingertip. "Reynolds. Reynolds. Before I leave, I have to go around and get everyone's picture and label them. I can't remember anyone's frickin' name."

FL Leathernecks and Toys For Tots

COL Dan of FL writes: Marines and Supporters of Toy-for-Tots -

Christmas is traditionally a time that Americans enjoy the holiday season, travel and spend time with family. Most of us, in addition to enjoying the holiday season, use this time for vacations, parties with friends, or simply to relax and enjoy the time away for the daily grind.

But on 18 November, 2007 the Leathernecks of Central Florida gave up a big part of their week-end to sponsor their first annual Poker-Run in support of Toys-for-Tots. This USMC motorcycle club was determined to use the last week-end before Thanksgiving to give something back to the disadvantaged children of Central Florida.

Marty Frances, "The Big Guy" from Cycle Rider Radio (740am), started off the event with a 0800 live broadcast from our starting point at the American Legion Post #53 in Sanford. Marty and Maria (from Curves Ahead) kept everyone entertained as they ate breakfast and assembled to start the ride. The Poker-Run started at 1000 with an escorted ride to Seminole Power Sports (SPS) by the Sanford Police Department. Kirby and the boys at SPS pulled out all stops by offering up free adult beverages, motorcycle stunt riders and many give-aways for the supporters. �Remembering the Children� was the theme established for this run with additional stops at VFW Post 8093, Jolly Gator and Black Hammock. Each of these stops had scheduled free raffles, outstanding food, and great music to keep everyone in the party mood as they enjoyed the beautiful Florida sunshine. At the end of the day we had over 238 people who spent their time and effort to enjoy the run and contribute to this worthy cause. Overall, I can�t imagine a better ride, prior to the start of the hectic holiday season, than a event to support Toys-for-Tots and the disadvantage children of Central Florida.

This event finished at American Legion Post #53 with outstanding chow being served by Doug Bishop and the Legion Riders of Post #53. Music was provided Lost Soul Tribe by with outstanding give-aways being offered up by Seminole Power Sports, Ray-Ray from the Legion Riders, Sgt Grits, Tattooduio, Daytona Harley Davison and Miller Lite. The event was honored to have Reverend Al Paquette provide some inspirational words to all those in attendance. It is always an honor to have Reverend Al and the Sanford Police Department support our charity events.

At the end of the week-end the leathernecks contributed over $3600 and 800 toys for the cause. These donations, as a result of the generosity of our many supporters, will go to the needy children of Central Florida.

I want to recognize Dixie Biker, Seminole Power Sports and USMCR for their outstanding support of this event and thank those who participated for their generosity in contributing to this worthy cause.

God bless and Semper Fi!!!

Dan Travers
Col USMCR

Leathernecks Coverage - Florida Today Article submitted by Header

Bikers share a passion for the open road � Oct 17, 2007 � Florida - By Autumn Phelps; Florida Today - It�s not all about the tattoos, the loud pipes, the babes and the leather gear. Sure, showing off with all that at mega-events such as Biketoberfest is part of the package. But seasoned bikers will tell you they embrace the biker lifestyle for one reason: the love of the ride. That�s especially true for those who have been on long-distance journeys with not much more than a saddlebag holding a change of clothes and rain gear.

Mike Morin of Port St. John, president of the local Leathernecks Motorcycle Club chapter, has put 7,000 miles on his 2006 Harley Davidson Electra Glide Sport in the past seven months, including one trip he took last summer through winding mountain roads in Tennessee. The 57-year-old of Port St. John says there�s nothing more liberating than feeling all around him and seeing sights of the countryside. �It makes me feel like I�m 37 when I�m 57,� Morin said. �It�s a sense of freedom; a release from everything else going on in your life.� Morin�s been riding motorcycles for 41 years. A Marine Corps Vietnam combat veteran and retired law enforcement officer, Morin says he�s at the point in his life where he can travel more often. His biggest motorcycle trip was in June 2002 when he covered 5,800 miles in three weeks, from Maine to New Orleans, north to Detroit, across Canada and back to Maine. �It was fantastic,� Morin said. �I stay off the main highways. I like to ride the backroads; see the country.�

Whatever kind of road they�re traveling; dedicated bikers know it beats a car any day. �Instead of seeing the grass, you get to smell the grass, the trees and the dead animals,� said �Big� John Boudreau, biker of 26 years and president of the Warlocks Motorcycle Club of Brevard. The latter, he agreed, doesn�t always smell so sweet, but that�s a small price to pay for open air. �You ain�t got this shell around you,� Boudreau said. Boudreau and five other Warlocks took a ride to Sturgis, S.D., in August for the annual Sturgis Rally. The guys took cold-weather gear, raincoats and camped along the way. It was a good time, he said, but not exactly a picnic. �It was the middle of the heat wave,� Boudreau said. �It was brutal.�

With or without the heat of summer, lengthy rides can take a toll on even the most experienced bikers� bodies. Faye Caroll of Merritt Island belongs to the Space Coast Riders Chapter of Women in the Wind, a women�s motorcycle club. In 2003, she and three girlfriends decided to take the Sturgis Rally trip. But she knew it wouldn�t be easy, so she decided to prepare for it by taking the Iron Butt endurance challenge. �You have 24 hours to do 1,000 miles,� Caroll said. �That�s an achievement, because not everybody can do it.� Caroll earned an official Iron Butt certificate in June 2003 by traveling Florida�s Interstates, then took the journey to Sturgis that August.

Image: The men and women of the biker world are tough, no doubt, but it�s safe to say their images have cleaned up a great deal in recent years. Somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, there�s a gang of bikers looking for trouble. It�s possible. But local bikers say the bad boy image is close to nonexistent. �The bike clubs like the Warlocks and the Outlaws are nothing like the movies of yesteryear portray,� Carroll said. �They�re professional people from all walks of life. They each have their own story to tell.�

Charity plays a big part in why bikers� images have cleaned up. These days, bikers and charity go hand-in-hand. �That�s where bikers excel,� said Doc Holiday, DJ for WHKR-FM (102.7) The Hitkicker, and lifetime member of the Independence chapter of the American Bikers Aiming Toward Education. �What I find interesting is that bikers always come together for charity. �The days of hopping on a hog for nothing are gone.�

ABATE�s annual holiday toy run is a perfect example, as is The Warlocks� dedication to supporting Big Brothers Big Sisters and Women in the Wind�s decision to raise money for a different charity each year.

And when they�re not riding or throwing a benefit for their designated charity, many of the local bikers will take time to lend a hand to families in need. Morin and The Leathernecks were quick to help out when they learned about Travis Derrick, a Port St. John teenager dying with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. A child who always dreamed of joining the military, Derrrick�s wish was to visit Arlington National Cemetery. The Leathernecks helped make Derrick�s dream come true, and he was able to take his trip in May. Even after the fact, Morin keeps in touch with Derrick and his family, staying with Travis and his younger brother Wade when their mom has errands to run. �We�re not as mean and tough as we look,� Morin said.

Camaraderie: Being a biker means different things to different people. For some, it�s owning a Harley. For others, it�s about participating in toy runs and other charitable events. A biker can be a military veteran, a plumber, a CPA, a man or woman. But there�s one common thread all bikers share. �It�s the love of riding, and it�s the camaraderie of those who enjoy doing it also,� Carroll said. �My brothers like to do the same things I like to do,� Boudreau said. �We�re just like the Elks and the Moose. We all have a common thing and that�s riding motorcycles.�

Citizen Marine Awarded Silver Star

Citizen Marine Awarded Silver Star
Military.com | By Beth Zimmerman Still | July 20, 2007 Crouched and flattened against a waist-high wall, Marine Sgt. Jeff Hunter could see the muzzle flashes of the enemy AK-47 as it took out chunks of the wall by his head. In the middle of a shoot-out with a fortified insurgent in western Iraq, Hunter never could have known he'd later be hailed a hero.

But two years after that May 2005 firefight - and a year after he finished his Reserve contract - Hunter, 28, received the Silver Star on June 18 at City Hall in Albuquerque, N.M., for "conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity" in Iraq during the summer of 2005 - including two fire fights in which he pulled a fellow Marine out of enemy fire.

Originally an administrative clerk at Albuquerque-based Delta Company, 4th Reconnaissance Battalion, Hunter deployed to Iraq as an infantry fire team leader with Columbus, Ohio-based Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 25th Marines, in March 2005.

In the early hours of May 25, then-Cpl. Hunter set out on foot with Lima Company toward Haditha's market district in the opening days of Operation New Market.

According to Hunter, the company planned to arrive at the market by sunrise in order to catch insurgents by surprise. He said the trip seemed like any other, until a Marine shot a stray dog that had charged him. About ten seconds later, "all hell broke loose," Hunter said.

The award citation released by the Corps and interviews with Hunter and his fellow Marines reveal the platoon was ambushed by small arms fire that seriously wounded an officer on the patrol. Sgt. David Wimberg, Hunter's squad leader, ordered the squad to take a house to their left, where they were receiving fire.

Wimberg hopped the fence and opened the gate for Hunter's fire team, then kicked in the door and ran inside with Hunter on his heels.

"Sgt. Wimberg barely took a second step into the room before a muzzle to an AK-47 was presented [at his chest] and fired several times," Hunter said in a recap of the events he wrote after the firefight.

When Wimberg fell to the ground, "I instinctively reached down and grabbed him, pulling him back out of the house," Hunter wrote. "I dragged him to the right of the door under a window and lay on top of him while I heard him wheeze for us to frag the room."

Hunter called for two of his squad mates to take Wimberg to their corpsman while he pushed forward with the attack on the house.

"In the back of my mind, I knew that I was now in charge of the squad and I had to get control of the situation," he wrote.

"Acting as squad leader, [Hunter] reorganized his Marines and led them into the insurgent position�ultimately securing the house with close-range small arms fire and hand grenades," according to the Corps release. Wimberg later died as a result of his wounds, but Hunter's actions during the firefight "enabled his company to regain its momentum," the release said.

Two months later, Hunter's platoon was tasked with sweeping a couple small towns west of Baghdad the morning of July 28. According to Hunter, the patrol had been uneventful until Cpl. Andre Williams started to knock on the door of a house in Cykla.

"Right as he went to knock, a heavy-machine gun shot him through the door," Hunter said. That kicked off a four-hour firefight between nine insurgents bottled inside the house and Hunter's platoon.

When some of the insurgents fled to another nearby house, Hunter maneuvered his squad closer, using their own cover fire to move to a rooftop overlooking the second house.

A couple hours into the firefight, the other two squads were still engaged in the at the first house, but rounds were no longer coming from the second house. When Hunter's squad cleared the house, they found an empty rocket-propelled grenade launcher, but no shooter.

They moved to the back yard where livestock were frantically running around following the hours of shooting going on around them. In the midst of the chaos, two of Hunter's Marines broke off to search two small cinder block buildings for enemy fighters.

As Lance Cpl. Christopher Lyons - Hunter's closest friend in the platoon - crossed the threshold of one of the buildings, he was shot by an insurgent fortified inside.

Hunter and his Marines took cover in a room of the building, which was still under construction. The wall was about three feet high, with huge portions missing for windows, Hunter said.

Crouched against his portion of the wall, about 15 feet from the insurgent's position, "I could see the muzzle flashes from the doorway [from] the guy shooting�while the AK-47 was just taking chunks out of the wall," Hunter said.

"It got pretty scary there for a minute."

During that fight, Hunter "shot two enemies and made two unsuccessful attempts in the face of enemy fire to retrieve a wounded Marine," the Corps release said.

Hunter "then ran across a fire-swept street to link up with a M1A1 tank, guided it's fire and directed it to breach the building," the release added. "This action neutralized one insurgent and allowed the extraction" of Lyons, who had been mortally wounded.

According to Shawn Bryan, who deployed as a sergeant with Lima Company in 2005, Hunter promised Lyons he'd take care of his family if anything happened to Lyons. After Lyons' death, Hunter established an email friendship with Bethany, Lyons' widow - a relationship that eventually blossomed into a romantic one.

"Because [Hunter] knew Christopher and loved him�I think that's what brought us together in the beginning," said Bethany. "We've both helped each other in that grieving process we both went through."

They were married last May, and Hunter, who has a year left in the Individual Ready Reserve, is in the process of adopting Lyons' daughter. The two also had a son in February.

"He's my hero�not just for what he did there, but what he did when he came home," said Bryan.

Meanwhile, Hunter said he has "mixed feelings" about his Silver Star.

"I honestly don't believe I did anything all that heroic," Hunter said. "I feel like I was just doing my job," he said. He'd "gladly trade" the medal if it would bring back Wimberg or Lyons.

"I know he says he didn't do anything too heroic�but in our eyes - the Wimbergs and mine - it was," Bethany countered.

Hunter currently has six classes left at the University of New Mexico, and he's working for Bryan in Albuquerque. A soft-spoken Marine who prefers to stay out of the spotlight, Hunter said his classmates have no idea he received the medal.

"He got the Silver Star for what he did," said Bryan. "But he did what he did because that's who he is."

Cleveland's Southeasth Harley donates $26,000 to local Toys for Tots, others...

South East HD presented checks raised during the Toys for Tots motorcycle raffle. These checks totaled $26,000.00 for local charities. To show their appreciation for the participation of the Marines from 3/25 South East Harley-Davidson and the Cleveland Chapter of the Harley Owners Group (HOG) donated $500.00 to the Wounded Warrior Foundation for 3rd Bn 25th Marines. In appreciation for the support of the Cleveland Police Officers and to recognize their daily dedication to the citizens of this area South East Harley-Davidson and the Cleveland HOG club donated $500.00 to the scholarship fund for the children of police officers killed in the line of duty. The remaining $25,000.00 was donated to the Toys for Tots Foundation in Quantico VA. This is the official charity of the USMC Reserves. The money will be divided between the Toys for Tots campaign administered by 3/25 and the Lake/Geauga County campaigns. ALL OF THE MONIES WILL BE USED LOCALLY AND USED SOLEY FOR THE PURCHASE OF TOYS FOR CHILDREN AT CHRISTMAS. See photos of LMCI Gold Star Chapter President McWoodstock and Vice President Animal receive the Toys for Tots checks at the LMCI Ohio website. McWoodstock has run the Lake County Toys for Tots program for the past six years and has been involved with it for ten years. Animal, an Iraqi Freedom Wounded Veteran himself, is running the Cuyahoga County Toys for Tots Program for the first time as well as running the local Wounded Warrior Program. Lake and Cuyahoga Counties will split the $25,000 check evenly. It also appears this may be the largest donation ever in the State of Ohio for the Toys for Tots program.

Never Too Late to Recognize a Hero

Vietnam veteran decorated

Story by Cpl. Erin McKnight
Camp Pendleton Scout
May 3, 2007

After sustaining injuries from direct mortar fire to an arm and both of his legs, Sgt. Joseph T. Getherall forced his body to comply with this wish: lead his men through battle in the Vietnam War. Several hours later, his life faced another direct threat when a grenade was thrown from the hands of the enemy. The squad leader immediately thrust his body forward, covering the grenade. As he moved to throw it back at its originator, the grenade exploded just after leaving his hand, causing further damage to one of his legs.

Due to the difficulty of submitting paperwork during the Vietnam War, combined with the death of senior leadership, the 20-year-old noncommissioned officer received nothing tangible in return for that day�s sacrifices � until now.

Forty years after he narrowly escaped death, Getherall received a Silver Star medal and Purple Heart medal during an awards ceremony April 19 Camp Pendleton for his actions Dec. 22, 1966.

�Let me begin by saying, every man is scared to death in his first battle. If he says he�s not, he�s a liar,� Getherall said. �I can�t even begin to tell you how scared I was � But I was responsible for a squad of Marines who depended on my leadership.�

After Getherall sustained his first set of injuries, fear was set on the back burner as another emotion overwhelmingly took charge of him.

�The best thing that happened to me was being wounded right from the start of the battle, because it really, really, really, really pissed me off,� Getherall said. �I thought, �Here I am down, and I might have to leave my Marines that I had trained.� This caused me to go on pure adrenaline for the remainder of the battle.�

Later in his speech, Getherall abruptly stopped speaking mid-sentence. The audience was silent while he paused to collect himself, blinking back memories of a battle where he said they were probably outnumbered 20 to one.

As he neared the end of his speech, the quiver could again be heard in his voice.

�I�m accepting and will wear this Silver Star on behalf of my squad of Marines,� said 60-year-old Getherall. �They were the true heroes that night.�

His speech soon ended, allowing the attendees to shower Getherall with a standing ovation. As the applause died down and the crowd took their seats, one man reached in his back pocket, pulling out a tissue so he could wipe his eyes.

Getherall and his Marines with Company M, 3rd Battalion, 26th Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Division, arrived in Vietnam with 2nd Lt. Gary Loveridge as their platoon commander. He sang Getherall�s praises while speaking at the ceremony.

He defined selflessness, compassion, integrity, courage and loyalty during his speech, noting that, �Joe Getherall exhibited all these qualities. There�s no doubt that [he] is a courageous human and a courageous Marine � He willingly put his life in danger to protect and help his troops.�

Another gentleman who was appreciative of Getherall�s actions was Col. James B. Seaton III, commanding officer, Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton. He had the honor of pinning Getherall�s awards onto his dark blue blazer.

�Joe, your actions on the battlefield that day � are what led folks like me to join the Marine Corps,� he expressed. �I am sorry that your Corps was unable to award you the recognition you deserved four decades ago.�

However, Getherall was glad he didn�t receive the awards 40 years prior. If his injuries had been recognized for what they really were, he would not have met his wife, Chieko. He said his whole life would be different without her, their children and their grandchildren.

As his speech came to a close, Getherall took a moment to acknowledge the men and women of an organization he said is a family, a team and a tradition.

�Here�s to our Marine Corps. Here�s to all Marines, past, present and future,� he said. �Semper Fidelis and Fratres Aeterni, and if you don�t know what that means, it�s �Always faithful and brothers forever.��