Reflection on How the Few Became the Proud: Crafting the Maine Corps Mystique, 1874-1918 by Heather Venable

               This is another book about the Marines that I’m reading for obvious reasons. This book, which was excellent, focused on an early time in the history of the Marines and their crucial public relations transition into “the first to fight.” The book convers the transition in which Marines stopped calling themselves soldiers and started to call themselves just Marines. In the 19^th century, Marines served onboard ships as sharpshooters and boarders of enemy ships as well as military police to prevent mutinies. But as the Navy developed further, there was less need for Marines except for as secondary gunners on large steel ships, which created conflict with sailors who felt that the big guns were their purview.

               The Marines created their myth before it became a reality. Marine recruiters made exaggerated claims in newspapers about being the oldest service and that the young American republic depended on (as quoted in newspapers) a “faithful cops [that] was its only defense.” Prior to this, Marines had a bad reputation on ships for refusing to do menial tasks that they considered to be part of the Navy’s job. Later on, at the beginning of the 20^th century, they adopted a can-do attitude, claiming that they could and would do any job. However, President Theodore Roosevelt removed Marines from ships in 1908. But by that time, the Marines had already found a new purpose as an expeditionary force in the Spanish-American War. Around the same time, the Marine Corps song, “The Halls of Montezuma,” became referred to as a hymn, suggesting a deeper meaning. All this pride became a part of the Marine Corps’ personality by World War One and future Marines would enter the Corps believing whole-heartedly in their masculinity, toughness, and superiority over other branches of the military.

               Venable tells a story of a World War One-era Marine, who was sleeping in a cot. Some visitor remarked to another, “I think this must be an American soldier.” Venable writes that, “From the depths of the pillow came a muffled voice— ‘Hell no; I’m a Marine!’”