Posted on 10/07/2025 7:51:12 AM PDT by Red Badger
U.S. Marines with Baker Company, Battalion Landing Team 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit, conduct ship-to-shore movement, utilizing the Enhanced Combat Rubber Reconnaissance Craft, in the Coral Sea, June 29, 2025. (U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Trevor BishopWilliams)
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FINALLY! (Or, What I Saw at Army Bootcamp) by a Marine Mom
As the mother of a combat-disabled Marine, all I can say after Secretary Hegseth’s speech is “finally!” His directive to leadership to gauge actions according to the litmus test, “Do unto your unit as you would have done to your child’s unit” is refreshing, morale boosting, and imminently important.
Watching my son board a bus to bootcamp, destination San Diego, my inner “mother meter” was screaming. If I had it to do over, I would throw myself in front of that bus.
My son would probably never speak to me again, but I would chance it. It was the days of President Obama. Enough said in that department. Worry was a given.
My son had a life-long desire to do the honorable thing, to do what generations of my family tracing back to the French and Indian War had done, to serve his country. He was raised on stories of bravery in battle, heroism. My son’s goals were, as Secretary Hegseth said, “…
To fight for God and Country, freedom and the Constitution.” Like the Spanish-American warrior Teddy Roosevelt, my son had a sickly childhood. This served as an impetus for all he would do as a man. He could not choose to serve in a less challenging branch; he wanted to be a Marine.
I wanted to cover him in bubble wrap. I am his mother, I bore him, I nutured him, it was my right to want him whole. Thankfully, the Marines wanted to prepare him for battle.
Uncle Jimmy came back from World War II scarred, unable to drive into the sun, nervous, requiring a certain level of quiet. He had entered as a 17-year-old, lying about his age. I was an adult before I understood that service in Italy involved many of the worst European battles.
I only knew he had “shell shock.” My other uncles served in challenging but not as dangerous situations. Uncle Jimmy was never the same.
That fact came to mind as I saw my determined son leave for bootcamp one semester shy of college graduation. He would witness tragedy at bootcamp when his poolee bunkmate fell dead the first week. I read of the death in the news, no names given. I immediately knew in my heart, in that way only mothers can, that it involved my son’s group.
Soon after, my son fell very ill and was forced to stay at the clinic for several weeks. My husband and I wanted someone to care for him as we would. I wanted up-to-date information on his health.
But he was a Marine, and Marine poolees couldn’t make phone calls, sick enough to require a stay or not. About 2 weeks into his 7 week stay, he was allowed one phone call.
A couple of weeks later our city was hit with a tornado and, still at the clinic, they allowed him to check on us. Relief, thy name is a phone call.
Disciple is everything when you are preparing to defend your nation. As much as I wanted to check on him daily, I wanted even more for them to train to stay him alive, AND THE MARINES DID. I did not recognize him at his bootcamp graduation.
In my defense, they almost all looked alike with their saved heads and straight stature. He was 50 pounds lighter and gaunt, but finally a Marine. The Few, the Proud, the Marines is more than a motto; it is survival.
My son went to MOS at an Army base after bootcamp graduation. This base also served as an Army bootcamp. In complete contrast to Marine bootcamp, Army bootcamp attendees walked around with cell phones, looking frumpy, untidy, overweight, shockingly undisciplined. They didn’t look like they could tie their own boots.
The camp itself showed few signs of discipline. We attended chapel that Sunday morning. The chapel had what appeared to be a Chinese “minister” who barely spoke English.
That Sunday, he sternly lectured trainees and parents alike as to why we should get rid of the Second Amendment.
This was one of the least comforting topics he could have shared with future warriors as they prepared to be deployed.
In route to battle months later, my son’s unit was involved in a helicopter accident. It took the life of a friend and caused severe, career ending injuries to other Marines.
His group had been due board next, which left him guilt-ridden. I learned of the accident while across the country from home having critical surgery. He emailed to let me know he was alive. I could feel his pain across the page and I wept.
My son went on to be a brash and brave Marine who served his country well. Saving the lives of his team, his truck over an IED but he was able to maneuver and protect them.
He was blown up once more in an African country I had never heard of and came home very broken in body and spirit. He almost lost everything as he dealt with PTSD. Worst of all were the suicides of his fellow servicemen after they came home, supposedly safe.
His faith in God sustained him in his darkest moments. His wife, a brave warrior on the home front, suffered through it all. The entire family suffered through it all.
The story ends well as my son is now a counselor and pastor. God provided in ways I could not image the day we put him on that bus to bootcamp.
Secretary Hegseth’s speech was the best from military leadership in decades, perhaps since World War II. It was a clarion call for victory to ranks who have become accustomed to mediocracy or downright failure. It was a no excuses lecture.
The secretary spoke extraordinary words when he said that all decisions would be filtered through the lens of whether he would want his own son eventually joining service. It was an amazing admission. President Obama didn’t have sons.
Even President Trump doesn’t have sons who have served. The ignorant women at “The View” have no clue why military fitness matters to a mother in the heartland. Like every Marine mother, I just wanted my boy to come home alive.
Military leadership is tasked with that goal. It needs to prepare the next serviceman for combat and survival. From what I saw on the Army base, this was a necessary speech, a decade or two too late for the troops in Iraq or Afghanistan, but finally words well said.
As Secretary Hegseth stated, all people are souls made in the image of God. My son, your daughter, is no less.
Thank you, Secretary Hegseth for doing the right thing. I hoped putting a formerly enlisted man in office would make a difference. It has.
Now, pray that he can get the right people in place to implement the changes. With God’s help, you will.
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Wonderful testimony. Thanks for posting it!
Good thing she never set foot on an Air Force base…lol.
Sounds like the son was a marine. The mother has no idea what a military member is and the pride we should all have of them. A commitment like he made is very special and it takes a lot of intestinal fortitude. Intestinal fortitude is a euphemistic term for courage, grit, and the strength of will to face adversity, pain, or unpleasantness and persevere through it. It implies resilience and the mental toughness to endure challenges, adapt to unforeseen obstacles, and remain resolute in difficult situations. Essentially, it’s having “guts” or the mental fortitude to see something difficult through to the end. His mom did not make that commitment. And that is what military members decide to do.
wy69
When I was a freshman in college I was in AFROTC. The ongoing joke was if you reported to the Colonel in the ArmyROTC and failed to salute, they would run you out of the office and make you do it ten times. If you did the same to the AFROTC Colonel…he’d would make a note of it.
That told us everything we needed to know, 45 year ago.
My impression is that this woman is not a solid source, she seems a little overly dramatic with perhaps a touch of exaggeration, a tendency to make for a bolder, more dramatic tale of everything.
The thing that has dawned on me is that it appears most of PDJT staff don’t appear to talk down to people. Like you could sit and BS with them IF they had time. I don’t see any “Do you know who I am!” attitudes. I could be wrong but that is what I see. And Hegseth having a 3 star marine doing push ups with him while in his gabardines was awesome. His talk to the Navy team after the game was also awesome. OooooRaahhh!
W.I.N.N.I.N.G
Yes! Double LOL!!
We occasionally shop at a BX. The airmen are pathetic looking. Over weight and their uniforms look like they are the cleanest ones taken from the dirty clothes basket. Haircuts are also an issue.
And the officers are equally pathetic. I recall you could recognize an officer by his perfect uniform, posture and overall appearance. Today if all rank insignia were removed, you couldn’t tell one slob from another.
His reply? “Two things: I have a military haircut and my boots are shined!” LOL
I swear I wore out the phrase, “You salute the rank, not the man.”
I was considered a novelty during AF alerts. As a butterbar, I was the Army Liasion Officer. I would stay in the CP for the entirety of the alert, as I was one of two officers in my battery with a TS clearance. I usually took my shaving kit and 3 pairs of fatigues with me at the start of each alert. I found it humorous that the zoomies often complained about their 12 hour shifts.
BCT Ft Knox 81. Flat feet. My knees are now shot. Sneakers helped a lot.
Excellent; and thanks.
Betcha a dollar to a donut she had a "My son is an honor student at..." bumper sticker during the kid's high school years.
It was a great story and I can certainly see the mother’s point of view, her being a mother and all.
there were a few places in the article that need correction, but I found this one a bit humorous:
“I wanted to cover him in bubble wrap. I am his mother, I bore him, I nutured him, it was my right to want him whole. Thankfully, the Marines wanted to prepare him for battle.”
Now, I know that’s not how neutered is spelled, but it reads the same. And it is also not how nurtured is spelled either, but it doesn’t read that way.
I understand, my experience was probably an anomaly. I stopped running the day I left the Army in 84. Still enjoy walking, though.
Since I was transitioning from drifter and overly wild and independent type to soldier, I paid special attention to my appearance, I got a haircut every week, sent my uniforms to civilian cleaners so that I could get the lifer three creases in the back of the shirt and the best starch, had the lifer embroidered name and Army tags on all my shirts, and spent about two hours on my jump boots every night.
I was also afraid to take leave because in those days I was easily distracted and might forget to come back if I was having fun.
I was so strack that it got me out of many jams, whatever wild thing I was caught doing just didn’t match the appearance, and I would walk away.
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