Cut those sideburns, Marine!

Cut those sideburns, Marine!
Written by Bob on October 2nd, 2009

YUCAIPA, CA – My first thought when I saw the older man walking along Yucaipa Boulevard was, he’s an ex-Marine. His haircut gave him away. We called it, The Jarhead flat top, buzzed short on the sides, flat on top.

Every career Marine – “Lifers,” as we short-timers called them – wore a flat top. And that included the First Sergeant of Marine Air Group 31 of Beaufort, South Carolina back in 1968.

I was a lowly 19-year-old PFC (private first class for all you civilians) with one lonely stripe on my shoulders. The First Sergeant had a chest full of medals and his sleeves were covered with stripes.

The man must have been in the Marine Corps for at least 50 years.
A TRUE MARINE
The First Sergeant was all Marine. Big, burly, square jawed with bushy eyebrows, and of course the top of his head was as flat and short cut as possible. Probably the most impressive flat top I’ve ever seen.

I worked in the squadron office down the hall from the First Sergeant as an orders clerk – a glorified typist. I didn’t fit the typical depiction of a “real” Marine.

In our office, Warrant Officer Knepp, our commanding officer, was somewhat easy going on regulations. He didn’t mind if our hair got a bit longer than regulation, or if our sideburns crept below mid-level of our ears.

But the First Sergeant did. Every day we had to walk by his office. And invariably he would stop someone dead in his tracks with, “Get in here Marine.”

EAGLE-EYED FIRST SARGE
That deep throated, course voiced command usually meant he didn’t like the looks of your uniform or your grooming habits.

One day he stopped me as I tried to sneak by his open door.




“Those sideburns look a little long,” he said with a glower. “I want those sideburns trimmed by tomorrow.”

I admit that I had let my sideburns grow past mid-ear. But long hair and sideburns were all the rage since the arrival of the Beatles. And the Beaufort girls liked long hair. So us young Marines were always pushing the limits of our hair and sideburn length.

SCARED INTO ACTION
Tomorrow came and why I’ll never know, but I had forgotten to trim my sideburns. And of course I had to walk by the First Sergeant’s open door.




“Get in here, Marine!” he ordered. At that moment I “remembered.” I nearly peed my pants and my knees quivered in fear.

“Didn’t I tell you to cut those sideburns!” he said with a glare.

Just then his phone rang. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said.

I didn’t hesitate. I rushed out of the squadron door at full sprint to my barracks a quarter-mile away. I grabbed my razor from my locker and ran to the shower. I cut those sideburns half way on my ears and raced back to the squadron office.

All done in record time. I should have been awarded an Olympic medal for that kind of speed.

About an hour later, the First Sergeant comes by our office and spots me sitting and typing away at my desk.

STRICTLY REGUALTION
“Didn’t I tell you to cut those sideburns,” he commanded as all the typewriters in the office stopped clicking. And all eyes starred at the First Sergeant, expecting him to launch into Otto like a Pit Bull attacking a helpless Poodle.

“I did First Sergeant,” I said, mustering all the bravado I could.

He looked first at one side of my head and then the other. He stared at me for what seemed an eternity. I’m sure he knew what I had done.




“I better never see those sideburns long again. Do you hear me, Marine!”

And for the remainder of my duty at Beaufort, my sideburns stayed regulation. Regardless if the Beaufort girls liked them or not.

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