THE ISLAND
A tract of land, five and a half miles long, comprising some 6,000 acres,
half of it marshland. Bounded on the north by Archer's Creek, on the east
by the Beaufort River, on the south and west by Port Royal Sound and Broad
River. Its highest point less than twenty feet above high tide. Home to
sand fleas, mosquitos, coral snakes, rattlesnakes, water moccasins, cotton-mouths
& alligators, its surrounding waters home to sharks and the odd barracuda.
Cold, wet fogs in winter, broken by long days of desultory rain &
even sleet in winter; constant high humidity in summer, with temperatures
in excess of 100 degrees not uncommon. Susceptible to hurricanes.
WHAT THE RECRUITING SERGEANT PROMISED
"Beautiful beaches, swaying palms, and movies every night" crooned
the sergeant at the recruiting office in Richmond, Virginia and Ben Finney,
all of seventeen years old, believed him. A few days later, crossing the
bay from Port Royal, South Carolina, in a motor launch, he had his first
glimpse of that reputed paradise, Paris Island, a corner of God's earth
he would not soon forget.
Reference: Ben Finney, Once a Marine, Always a Marine
GETTING THEIR FIRST LOOK AT PORT ROYAL &
PARIS ISLE, JOE & DAVE WISH THEY'D NEVER JOINED UP
We arrived at a little town and had to change trains. We saw a Marine
Sgt. talking to our escourt & then this Marine took charge but didn't
say a thing till we started to raise a rough house & Oh, Boy, from
then on we sure knew we were in the Marine Corp. He sure was tough. Offered
to lick any guy in the car. He had us sitting in our seats like school
boys. That .45 he had looked too big, anyhow.
Road all afternoon. The train stopped and he yelled "Everybody out,
and make it snappy." There were Marines everywhere. Dave and I wondered
what place it was & one of the Marines said Port Royal. What a place!
I looked around and saw a few old houses and a barge. No ocean liners.
I could not believe my eyes. Thousands of boys that came after us felt
the same way about it. A gov't tug come along side and our tough sgt marched
us on two by two.
Dave and I were buddies, bound for Paris Island, one hour's sail from
that Port Royal. We were both sore. He blamed me for getting him into such
a place.
J.E. Rendinell, One Man's War
AN
ISLAND FOR THE INSANE
Every Marine will remember his first night on the Paris Island. I thought
they had landed us on an island for the insane; but later I was told it
was the old quarantine camp. The recruits that had landed the day before
grabbed our suit cases and greeted us something like this: "This way for
your silk pajamas; right over here for your ice cream checks; white sheets,
this way." They had a lot of fun at our expense and we had to like it.
It was an initiation that every Marine goes through..
Gus Gulberg, A War Diary
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