Luckiest Marine Alive

A Life-Changing Decision

On November 20, 1961, I made a decision that would change my life forever: I joined the Marine Corps. I went home, told my dad the news, and gave him five days' notice. My cousin Ron was interested in working for my father, so Dad hired him and all was good.

The next morning, before the sun was even up, I drove to Kenny's house. We didn't have the "Invisible Tools" of texting or cell phones back then, so I did it the old-fashioned way—I climbed onto his garage roof and knocked on his bedroom window. A groggy Kenny opened the glass, and I delivered the news. His response was instant: "I'm coming with you.". By the end of the day, we were both signed up. I chose a three-year hitch, but Kenny wasn't quite as lucky—the recruiter talked him into four.

Neither of us had ever stepped foot on an airplane until we boarded at O'Hare Field. We were nervous as hell, but the flight to San Diego was uneventful—until we deplaned.

From Duck-Ass to Maggots

The Marine Sergeant was barking orders that echoed across the tarmac. The journey from 'Hood' to 'Marine' had officially begun. The transformation was brutal and fast. They shaved off our prized pompadours and traded our cool clothes for yellow sweatshirts and dull black boots. We laughed at how we looked, but the laughter died the moment we saw our 'new digs'—a Quonset hut with a pot-belly stove and no air conditioning.

Then came the Drill Instructor. His brass belt buckle was so polished it could blind you, and his voice was even sharper. He didn't see 'Lucky Generation' teenagers; he saw 'Maggots.'. We were stripped of our belongings and our clothes. Standing there naked, Kenny and I looked at each other, wondering if we could make a run for it. But the Corps was one step ahead of us—they knew a man doesn't desert when he's got nothing but his birthday suit. We were in it now. What's Next?.

Surviving the Grinder

Then came 'The Grinder' at the United States Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego, California. At first, it was just a morning run before breakfast. Then the stakes went up: we ran with our rifles. Then with half-loaded packs. Finally, we were pounding the pavement with full gear and steel.

By the second week, Kenny and I were at our breaking point. We were ready to throw in the towel and head back to the 'Streets of Chicago.'. But something shifted around week eight. The 'Maggots' were disappearing, and the Marines were emerging. By week thirteen, we didn't just have zero body fat—we had zero doubt. We stood tall on that graduation deck in our full uniforms, the transformation complete. We walked onto that base as 'Punk Kids' and marched off as Men. Oorah!.

1962 - Private Horvath (E1) - After Boot Camp on my 30 day leave

Wood Dale, Ill - Looking back at it, I can't believe how skinny I was—I think I weighed around 150 pounds, but it was all muscle. My parents were incredibly proud of me, and we had a wonderful visit.

Kenny and I had flown home and spent a lot of time together during our leave. My Grandpa Ross was a used car dealership owner in Chicago, so he gave me a super deal on a car. When our thirty days were up, Kenny and I packed it up and drove it all the way back to MCRD San Diego to get our official orders.

Neither of us were prepared for what was next.

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