Marines, 1st Marines, First Marines, 2nd Bn 1st Marines, 2nd Bn First Marines, 2nd Battalion 1st Marines, Corpsman, USMC, Marine Corps, Vietnam, Vietnam Veterans

We Were Brothers Once

By David Stromire

Dedicated to Thomas Hadley, Gerald Bradley, and Joseph Pitts

Inspired by Nathanial Haynes, and Tommy Morales

I was born in a small town in Southern Idaho.  No, it was not up there where they have the skinheads of today.  It was east of Boise about 150 miles. It was mostly potato farms and sugar factories. Simplot Spud factory had the contract with the military for supplying us with those tasty C-Rations. My uncle worked in that plant, when he got home from fighting in Germany.

Back then in our town, there REALLY was a place called the wrong side of the tracks. It so happened, that is where our basement home was, with an outhouse, in the City limits.  My aunts and Uncles, in fact all my relatives, lived on the right side of the tracks. In really nice homes, my Pop even built some of those homes. He learned carpentry before going off to war. One of his first jobs in carpentry ,was helping to build a Japanese internment camp.  It was built within a few miles of our town. They were always free to go and come, as they pleased, as long as they were back by curfew as the gates were never locked. My Pop said, there was one Japanese woman that the town sheriff, had to bring back every Sunday night.

My three brothers and three sisters and I used to go to the fields to pick potatoes and beets.  While my dad was building homes around the State. I of course was too young to make any real money.  So mostly, I played with the other kids my age. They were mostly Mexican immigrant, farm workers, but being young and not pulling my weight. My brothers and sisters liked to play little tricks on me. They would get a stick, and we would all hold hands, while my oldest brother touched the electric fence. Of course, since I was the kid always on the end the electricity would shoot its way down the line of the seven of us and the one at the end got most of the jolt.  As I became a little older, I would find someone younger to take my place.   I had never seen a black person ever when we lived in Idaho, but there were many Mexican migrant workers, it was frowned on, for us to be friends with them.

My very first best friend ever, in the first grade was Lupe Lopez. I was not allowed to go to his house after school. One day I ignored that rule. I walked home with Lupe, whose family was as big as my own. His mother fixed me snacks, and I stayed around playing with him and his brothers until dark. I knew I was in for a whipping as I walked home, scared and not really wanting to face the music.  About two blocks from my home, was a newspaper bin with two garbage cans on top.  I crawled in there, scared and trying to think of a way I could escape my punishment.  It was getting dark and cold. I covered up with a bunch of newspapers and fell off to sleep.

Well, unbeknownst to me.  It wasn't long and the whole town was looking for me. When they finally found me I was sleeping in the paper bin. The next days news, headlines were. “Little Boy Blue Lost?  Little Boy Blue Found! ".  I still have that article. Then one year, my Pop said we are moving to Portland, Oregon. It is really growing, and there will be plenty of work.  Therefore, we all packed up and headed to Portland.

We moved to Portland, when I was eleven years old. It was Mostly a German community Called St. Johns. It had a very bad reputation for being a poor part of Portland. I think there was a tavern on every other block. Still at that time, there was Only One Black Family and maybe three or four Hispanic Families who lived in St. Johns. I of course fell in love with a very beautiful Hispanic girl named Gracie.  This did not go over to well with both our families, but we didn't care. My Best friend in Portland, from a Cherokee family, kind of adopted me. I even got to go back to Oklahoma with them.

My very first time I met a Black man, I was very fortunate to meet the man, which left a very deep impression on me at eleven years old. My Mom, brothers, sisters, and I, were picking beans out in the fields, near The Portland Airport, It had rained that day the ground was very muddy.  After a day of picking string beans we were about to leave.  My mother got us stuck real bad in the mud.  All us kids got out to try to push her out with no luck, we were slipping and falling down in ankle deep mud. As Car after car and even pickups passed us by, not one even offering to help.

Just then a black man, in a brand new shiny Cadillac, pulls up behind us gets out and offers us a push. He didn't care if his car got scraped up, dented or muddy he pushed us right out. He would not accept a thing, but we flooded him with gratefulness. I will never forget my first impression of meeting a Man of his color it is etched in my memory forever.

This now brings me to the Marines and Nam, and how I always kept an open heart and mind when it came to Race. In the first few nights of Boot camp, we would lay in our racks, and ask where everyone was from. When I heard Nate say, he was from Portland. I said "Me To."  He played a variety of sports, Football, Basketball, Wresting, Baseball and Track. He graduated from Cleveland High School in Portland and was drafted into the military in the summer of 1967. But joined The Marines 1st.

It was on the other side of Portland from me. Myself I joined the Marines to graduate. I wasn't with Nate and our platoon very long, when I developed a huge boil on my right elbow. Man it would hurt, but I kept my mouth shut. The DIs don't like boots to go to sickbay.

One day out on the parade deck marching, I just could not keep my elbow in without hurting. One of the DIs walked up and hit me on the right elbow. My weapon went flying as I grabbed my arm in pain.  He shouted what's wrong with you Maggot!  Roll up that sleeve. I rolled up my sleeve to even my surprise, just how big and ugly that boil had become.  I was sent to sickbay; in the bed next to me which was kind of  ironic was a DI with boils on both his elbows.  He joked and talked to me. I  nervously spoke with him as Yes Sir and No Sir. After two weeks in sickbay, I had to go to a different platoon," as a pickup."

However, the head DI knew my story , and was first to let everyone know. I was not a chit bird, that I had real medical problems, and held on as long as I could.  I couldn't believe my ears a drill instructor was actually giving me the benefit of the doubt. I fit right in place with my new platoon.  We had all the ribbons and made Honor Platoon. I of course was still just your average Private. By the time I graduated, Nate was finishing ITR and preparing for Nam. Where he eventualy hooked up with Echo 2/1.   I went on to Pentleton to train and wait till I was Old enough for combat.

This is where I really first came to see problems with race. I was assigned to Fox 27th Marines. Most of all who had already done a tour in Nam. I noticed the whites hung with the whites and Hispanics and blacks hung with there own.  Now I know in The Marine Corps. We are ALL just Green and that is how I lived and thought at Pentleton, but then there is this thing called reality?

Then, some low life shot and killed Martin Luther King! Riots broke out in LA.  The next thing I know. We are loaded in the back of big trucks, heading for Watts. Sitting across me is a Black Marine.  I wondered, just what he was thinking. Did he hate me? Did he think I even cared? And what is going to happen when we get to Watts? Fortunately, we never made it to watts we were turned around and sent back to Pentleton. We had weapons, but no ammo. Man! Was I glad the Marine Corps stayed out of that one?

I was in Nam standing in line waiting for hot chow; it was the first hot meal our unit had received in many days. Of course being the new guy. I was at the very end of the line. I kept hearing someone from the front of the line, yelling, Dave! Get up here. The guy yelling at me was black and standing there with a group of other black Marines. First, I am thinking. I don't know anyone here, and I sure don't know any black Marines.  I didn't know what to do.  I also didn't want a bunch of hungry combat Marine grunts to think I was cutting in line. However, the Marine kept yelling my name and everyone was saying go ahead go up there.   Its OK so I slowly walked up there knowing all eyes were on this new guy. When I got to the front of the line, Nate came out of the group and said what's up Dave.

I was surprised that he remembered me from our short time together in Boot camp, but he did, and I recognized him also. He introduced me to his buddies and his best friend Hadley.  After we got our chow, we went and set down to eat and talk. He asked me what squad I was assigned to, I said Brads Squad. He smiled and both he and Hadley said I would be in their fire team.

From that day on until we moved down south. Nate and Hadley took me under their wings and we all three became very close. I remember one night up north, when I was on guard duty. I kept hearing noises in front of me. I was wide-eyed and ready. Just then, Nate flew over the bunker and tackled me. He and Hadley had been tossing pebbles, to see if I was awake on watch.

Hadley was a tall Marine from Pittsboro, North Carolina, who smoked a pipe. His very best asset was his smile. I never saw him without either.  We would read each others mail from our girls. Even got to the point that we would call each other by our girl friends names, I was Gracie of course.

My fondest memory of Hadley was, when we were on a platoon size patrol. We had stopped to take five. Hadley was laying back against his pack, lighting up his pipe. He was wearing that great big Smile. After he lit his pipe, he asked, got any new mail Gracie, I said yep, and we swapped mail and I was setting back reading a letter from a girl in Pittsboro, named Carol.

We moved down south of Danang to patrol what was called the rocket belt. I think that was about the time Joe came to Echo. He was a very soft-spoken Marine from Pittsburg. One day Joe had his radio on, while Hadley, Nate and I set listening to a news report  about a Black Vietnam Veteran being attacked at an airport in the states. He died! I never felt so bad in my life. I was thinking, what is going on here? How can this happen? None of us said a word we picked up our gear and went our separate ways. 

I eventually became a Squad leader, Thanks To Nate, Hadley and Brad. All three  had their chit together from up north. They taught me so much, mostly to use my common sense. I have always said, If it wasn’t for Brad and the black brothers of 2/1. I would not be who I am today.  One day, while 3rd platoon was out in the tower compound by 1st med, we were running four man rocket watch.

Every night, four men out of a squad, would go on ambush, and rocket watch.  I had just come in with three of my squad.  I mapped out with Sgt Harting where the next four men in my squad would go.  After that, all we  had to do was relax, write home, whatever.  I was down in the bunker, playing bid wits with a few black Marines.  One of the Marines, who was supposed to go out that night started gripping, because he didn't want to go. When I was climbing out of the bunker, he sucker punched me, and called me a N----R Lover. It didn’t hurt as much as it ticked me off, but before I could say or do anything Sgt. Harting stepped in between us. After I told him what was going on he screamed at me, me and said “you’re the squad leader “you will go out every night with each fire team.

As I tried to explain how we have been operating, he got in my face and invited me to throw a punch. I declined, I wasn’t ready for a serious whipping. I mean we nicked named this Marine Sgt. Rock.  So I stepped back and complied with his orders. Don’t get me wrong, I was not only afraid of getting my but kicked, it was just I had a whole lot of respect for him. He was the kind of leader that stood behind his men, not like other Sergeants who laid back and did nothing. I guess to, that was what he was teaching me, go out with your men, even if you have to go out every night.

After That, we moved back to the rear area, and ran platoon and squad size patrols. One day in December, it was the 4th to be exact our platoon was crossing that rice paddy coming back in from the Rivera.  As the last man came off the big sand hill and stepped into the paddy the VC moved in behind us and they had us pinned down. Brad and his squad was already on the other side running a patrol.  The VC had us like ducks in a shooting gallery, with nowhere to go. It didn’t matter which side of the dike I jumped on. The bullets were spitting water and dirt all over me.

Brad got his squad on line and rushed their positions, and anyone who knew Brad, knew he carried a few L.A.W.s. He was deadly with them rocket launchers.  He literally saved the whole platoon, except one Marine, a Black Marine," Joe " from Pittsburgh Was our only casualty, but one to many.

Five days after that Nate and Hadley’s squad were out on patrol. One marine stepped on a booby-trap Hadley caught one piece of shrapnel in his neck, and died along with the other Marine.  Then Nate stepped on a booby-trap going out on patrol. Thank God, he was going to live, he would not be whole, but he was going to live.

While we operated out of 2/1s rear area, there were a few occasions with racial problems brewing. This was just not in Nam. Nate had said once that. I hope people can understand that during that time of the Viet Nam War period, there was also a cilivil rights battle going on, it was like Black People and the Police especially the Black Panther Party, a lot of young kids who were suspected of having aggressive behavioral problems were either drafted into the military or put into jail, if their behavior warranted it or not, in his case it was not warranted. That didnt matter to the police. and That was why Nate was in Nam.   Sometimes I was called to intervene for both sides. One day while I was running a patrol, just south of the French fort, we all set down to take five.  My radioman, was listening to the conversations going on between 2/1 and 1st Marines Headquarters. He said, Hey Dave, they are talking about you. The Captain at 2/1 wants to promote you. He says you would be a great asset for racial problems back at Pentleton.  I never got the promotion for months, until just a few days before I was wounded, but it gave me a good feeling. After Nate was wounded, and left.  Then Tommy Morales and I became best friends.  When I was wounded, Tommy picked up my M-79. He carried it the rest of his tour.  Tommy and I have talked about all this stuff, just not to long ago. And then seeing Nate at the VA, is why I think I wanted to Share this story.

I arrived home, as a Marine and a Disabled combat veteran, but there was something different in me.  I realized, my favorite music, was soul. The way I talked and the way I looked at things was almost as if I was looking at the world,  I now was in, as a Soul Brother.

I remember my friend driving me over the bridge to Washington State, we kept arguing on what radio station to listen to, I wanted Soul and he wanted Rock. As we were crossing the bridge, we passed an elderly black couple. I gave them my soul power fist. They Both smiled.  But I am thinking now. They probably thought I was giving them the white power fist? Kind of funny now that I think about it.  My wanna be soul brother actions carried on for quit awhile.

When my friend came home from Korea We moved in to an apartment together, across town we had a keg party every Friday night, and of course our own parties during the week.  When we had our keg parties, we would compromise on sharing our two different likes of music. All our friends from St. Johns Loved his music, but when it came to the ladies, soul music and dancing.  Well, I became very popular with the ladies.

One night when we were getting low on beer, I drove down to the corner Seven Eleven to resupply. Standing at the counter, with three other black men, stood Nate, yep the same Nate from boot camp, and the same Nate who took me under his wings in Nam. I invited him and his friends up to our party. They fell right in. They sang and harmonized (without Music) the rest of the night. They were a big hit with my friends from St. Johns.

Eventually, I moved back to St. Johns,  well Mainly I had to move, since one of my friends knocked our landlord back down the stairs, after he came up to complain about the noise. I slowly started to transform back to my old St. Johns ways. Drinking, fighting, and hanging with my old friends.

Since most of my friends were white except Jerry, who is Cherokee. And then Nam was not so much a big part of my life anymore, I lost all contact with Nate. I still had in me the hunger to always stick up and argue with my friends when it came to Race of any kind.

One night after all the bars were closed, I went to the St. Johns cafe. It was a popular hang out, four after hours. Drinking coffee or eating a late night breakfast. I was setting in a booth with a friend. There was a black man and his white wife sitting at the table behind me and behind them there was four drunken St. Johns guys. They were really harassing the white girl, calling her all the usual racist names. I stood up, and told them to shut up, or I was going to land in the middle of them. Not because I was some big defender of civil rights, It was because I hated that N word and I would also fight at any excuse. Two Portland Police were setting at the counter drinking coffee. They turned around and said set down Stromire. So I did, thinking they would handle it. Plus I did not want to spend the night in jail. However, those Idiots, went right back to the racial slurs and that poor lady was crying. The police just sat there doing nothing. I jumped up again, and walked over to the table and invited them all outside.  Next thing I know, I am up against the wall being cuffed.

The black man" James" then jumps up and yells at the police, saying, he is only doing what you should be doing. They grabbed him and threw him against the wall, cuffed him and we spent the night together in jail. When it was time to go to court we were both charged with disorderly conduct. James said we would be our own lawyers, and asked for a jury trial. 

At the very beginning of the trial, one of the police officers testified that when he and his partner came into the cafe, I was already being disorderly, when James had his chance to ask the cop questions. Man, He really impressed me. He was good; he asked him why he arrested him to. The cop said that, him and his partner were setting there when it all took place. Bam! James jumped on that lie, because he just testified that they had just walked in while I was causing trouble.  That Judge reamed out both cops, and dismissed the case. He asked James and me to stand. He wanted everyone in the courtroom to hear him say. That he wished that, there were more people like James and I in Portland, And that we were an inspiration to black and whites alike.  The whole courtroom stood up and clapped, black, white brown, just everyone.

I am on my second marriage. We have been married fifteen years and I have not drank since. We have three Beautiful daughters and One Son. I have taught them well, just by my actions, that we are all the same. In fact, their best friends are like family. Who have been in America now six years from the Ukraine.Our Family and thier family , do evreything together. We all have learned so much from each other. I tell my kids, just how much I would have missed out on. If it was not for all the different people, who have loved and influenced me in my life.

That they should get to know everyone they can. Because there is so much to learn from our neighbors. No matter what color.

Every once in awhile, I will see Nate at The VA in Vancouver,  Both of us still being treated for our wounds we received with 2/1, 1st Marines. We will stop and shake hands, talk a little and go our way.  Sometimes as he is walking away, I will look back at him, and think to myself. We Were Brothers Once.  In my heart, I now know all Marines and Corpsman's, Are Brothers Still.