I didn’t get to do much by way of shortening my bucket list this year. Truth be told, I’m thinking of following comedian Ardal O’Hanlon (you might know him better as Dougal in Fr Ted). He’s decided that a better list, one that is cheaper and more achievable, might be a Fuckit list – a list of things I’ve no intention of ever doing. (If you’re impatient, skip to 1.47 in the video.)

One thing I did get to cross off though, was going to a Marine Ball.

I have a thing for pomp and ceremony.

And uniforms.

And tradition.

They fascinate me.

This year, we were invited to the celebrations hosted by Marine Wing Support Squadron 373 in San Diego to celebrate 249 years of all things Marine. We packed the long dress and the tux and headed west.

The first thing that struck me was how young everyone was.

Seriously young.

Young as in looked-like-they-were-dressing-up young. Confirmation-money young. So very, very young.

The youngest marine in the room was born in 2006; the oldest in 1974. I was feeling my age.

As the Marine’s Prayer was recited, one paragraph stuck with me. ‘Helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones, and Thee without shame and fear.’ If I were to replace ‘fellow marines’ with ‘myself’, that would paraphrase my dad’s advice to me nicely.

I was in my element.

Marines are quite specific. By way of example, I give you the list of requirements regarding dress code and heels published by the New Orleans organisers. The evening in San Diego was choreographed to the nth degree. I asked if there was anything I should not do during the proceedings. Don’t get up, they said. Don’t get up when things are in motion.

I sat. I watched. I waited. And I asked questions. Lots of questions. I got a crash course in reading uniforms to find rank, length of service, and medals.

When I asked why the Marines barked like seals in response to some of the speeches  (I was sure Seals were part of the Navy – and they are – as are the Marines – both branches of the Department of the Navy – so confusing – I had a lot to learn), I was told the sound wasn’t a seal but that of a devil-dog, the German teufelhunde. The story doing the rounds that night was that this was what the Germans called the Marines fighting at Belleau Wood in 1918. From what I read though, it wasn’t a nickname bestowed by the Germans but by a US Correspondent.

I also learned that the Marine’s Oorah bears no relation to the Army’s Hooah.

Various speeches, live and recorded, talked of the origins of the Marine Corps, formed on 10 November 1775 as ‘a branch of infantry troops capable of fighting both at sea and on shore’. The 1921 address of General John A. Lejeune commended ‘the long line of illustrious men [and now women] who have served as “soldiers of the seas” since the founding of the Corps.’ Hollywood has a lot to answer for, for skewing my idea of what Marines are.

A message from the Commandant references the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, the Marine emblem.

The Eagle is the symbol of the United States, and it is the one part of the emblem that readily associates the Marine Corps with the United States. The eagle proudly carries a streamer in its beak that bears the motto of the Corps: Semper Fidelis.

The Globe signifies the worldwide commitment of the Marine Corps and its areas of responsibility. Marines serve in any clime or place.

The Fouled Anchor, whose origin dates back to the founding of the Marine Corps in 1775, represents the amphibious nature of the Marines’ duties and emphasizes the close ties between the Marine Corps and the U.S. Navy.

His most-quoted extract – Every Marine a rifleman and everyone fights – sent me down a rabbit hole. I found a prize-winning essay by Sgt Daniel Hill that explains the contentious nature of this statement.

The picture of what Marines do was gradually emerging.

We had the Color Guard, the Sword Detail, the Cake Escorts. We had music from the III MAW Band. The Marines’ Hymn was played twice, once slowly (goosebumps stuff) and later at regular speed. The music, composed in 1867 by Jacques Offenbach, is an earworm if ever there was one. The lyrics added later, some say by a Marine on duty in Mexico, are a rousing call to action with a little humour tucked in at the end.

If the Army and the Navy ever look on Heaven’s scenes, they will find the streets are guarded by the United States Marines.

Lauren Bowers wrote an interesting piece on its importance during WWII.

Marine Wing Support Squadron 373, aka The Aces, are an interesting lot. The young men and women I spoke with carry immense pride in their uniform, in what they do. That the Corps is driven by rules was evident. The hierarchy of rank was observed to the letter. As a civilian, I could talk to whomever I wanted to without being spoken to first. My questions, no matter how ludicrous or evidence of my ignorance, were answered with grace and reflection.

Chatting to a First Lieutenant who had made his way up through the enlisted ranks to become a commissioned officer – which I believe is no mean feat – I commented on how young everyone looked. Yes, he agreed, they may look young, but when it comes down to it, they’re the people you want fighting your corner.

A simple statement of fact stated with pride.

Women were present, in uniform, but in much smaller numbers. Thirty-nine-year-old Opha May Johnson was the first woman to enlist in the Marine Corps as a Reserve Marine on 13 August 1918, but it wasn’t until November of 1948 that the first three enlisted women were sworn in. A History of Women Marines 1946-1977 tells a fascinating story.

Women now account for 4.3% of all Marine officers and 5.1% of the active duty enlisted force. Some other milestones and the relative recency show how much is still to be done.

Col Margaret A. Brewer was appointed to a general officer’s billet with the rank of brigadier general becoming the first woman general officer in the history of the Corps (1978); Col Gail M. Reals became the first woman selected by a board of general officers to be advanced to brigadier general (1985); BGen Carol A. Mutter assumed command of the 3d Force Service Support Group, Okinawa, becoming the first woman to command a Fleet Marine Force unit at the flag level (1992); 2dLt Sarah Deal became the first woman Marine selected for Naval aviation training (1993); BGen Mutter became the first woman major general in the Marine Corps and the senior woman on active duty in the armed services (1994); LtGen Mutter became the first woman Marine and the second woman in the history of the armed services to wear three stars (1996); 1stLt Vernice Armour became the first female African-American combat pilot in the Marine Corps as well as any other U.S. armed service (2002).

For me though, the sentiment and the emotion were bittersweet. The most poignant reflection was not about who was there (delighted though we were to be celebrating with family) but about who was not there.

The missing [wo]man table. Or the fallen comrade table. A tribute to the fallen, missing, or imprisoned US Military Service members.

The table is round, to show our everlasting concern for our missing men and women.
Draped in black; symbolizing the color of mourning; the ultimate sacrifice; a table set in honor of our fallen comrades.
The single lighted candle; reminds us of the flame of eternal life; that the memory of our fallen comrades be with us always.
The Purple Heart medal; displayed to reflect the shedding of blood and the ebb of life in battle.
The identification tags; blank; yet they could bear the name of any of us here.
The dinner setting; inverted; they break bread with us in spirit only.
The chair; empty; they are not here.
Remember, all of us who have served with them and called them “brothers and sisters,” who depended upon their strength and comfort and relied upon them; surely we have not forsaken them.

There will be a lot of empty places at dinner tables this Christmas. Many people have died. So many others are missing. More again are away from home, on frontlines around the world.

While the company and the food were excellent and the pomp and ceremony up to par, the Marine Ball was a reminder that we live the lives we live because others are prepared to sacrifice theirs.

I found myself offering a prayer of thanks as we left – just as I do when I visit a war grave. And with it a prayer that all of those present on 5 November will be around to toast to the health of the Marine Corps next year, too.