Marine Corps U S

The April 8 crash of the Marine Corps' new V-22 Osprey aircraft in Arizona that killed 19 Marines was caused by "human factors," investigators said, primarily pointing to the pilot's rapid descent and slow engine speed, which caused the plane to stall and veer out of control. Moreover, the pilot of a second V-22 that was flying ahead of the doomed aircraft contributed to the fiery crash, investigators said.

When 500 U.S. Marines descended on this Taliban stronghold overnight, Afghan civilians were immediately suspicious about the intentions of the heavily-armed Americans. One question dominated all others: How long will the Americans stay? Five months later, there is still no clear answer. "The No. 1 question the Marines get is: 'When are you going home?' " said Brig. Gen. Larry Nicholson, an Iraq combat veteran and now the top Marine in Afghanistan. "They can't believe we're staying."

Their average age was 30. They came from 24 states and the District of Columbia. Thirty-three were married and three were engaged. They left behind 38 children and five on the way. They are the 45 Marines who have died in Harrier accidents during the jump jet's 31 years of U.S. service. Two more Marines were killed when their Harriers were shot down during the Persian Gulf War. With the exception of Lt. Stephen J. Chetneky, a flight surgeon, all were pilots.

For thousands of U.S. Marines, the road to Afghanistan goes through an isolated training facility here in the Eastern Sierra where they share the rugged Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest with civilian hunters, backpackers and skiers. On a recent weekend, several hundred Marines were on an overnight march to test their land navigation, communication and outdoor survival skills. As they returned to base camp Sunday morning, hunters dressed in orange vests were driving their four-wheel-drive vehicles up the mountain in hopes of bagging deer.

Anyone who prefers that their military officers follow the media-enforced ideal of being diffident, silent about their feelings, unwilling to talk about their combat experience and troubled by the violence of their chosen profession should skip this story. Marine Corps Capt. Douglas Zembiec is none of these things. Zembiec, an All-American wrestler and 1995 graduate of the Naval Academy, is the charismatic commander of Echo Company of the 2nd Battalion, 1st Regiment, 1st Marine Division.

Though many had died flying the Harrier, Marine Corps pilot Peter E. Yount never thought it would let him down. He knew the attack jet well and was devoted to it. In the entire U.S. arsenal, only the compact, muscular-looking Harrier could lift straight up off a runway, hover like a hummingbird, then blast off in search of targets. "Difficult but honest" is how Yount described it. But on a clear spring day in 1998, the Harrier would betray him.

The basic rule for Marine boot camp is simple: Keep your mouth shut and mind your own business. But it's different when the subject is suicide. Drill instructors encourage recruits to share their feelings in "guided discussions" and tell them to watch out for, and promptly report, warning signs in their buddies. The suicide rate in the active-duty Marine Corps was 16.5 per 100,000 in 2007 -- below both the active-duty Army and a similar demographic in the civilian population.

A Marine whose drowning has led to criminal charges against four Marines had twice asked not to be forced to undergo a strenuous training exercise but was ordered to get in the swimming pool or he would flunk the course, military documents indicate. The documents provide other details about the death of Staff Sgt. Andrew Gonzales, 30, and about the intense exercise known as "water polo."

Investigators were combing a crash site in South Korea, trying to determine why a Tustin-based transport helicopter went out of control and crashed during a training exercise, a Marine Corps spokesman said Saturday. The pilot and three crewmen, who were attached to the 3rd Marine Aircraft Wing based in Tustin, died. The copter crashed in a rice field 280 miles southeast of Tokyo while on a joint U.S.-South Korean training mission known as Team Spirit '89.

American flag in hand, the first contingent of U.S. Marines to form part of NATO's Balkan peacekeeping deployment landed here Sunday. As North Atlantic Treaty Organization troops continued to trickle into the region, a French deadline for the Bosnian Serbs to provide information on two missing pilots expired without word on the men's whereabouts. France has threatened retaliation if the Serbs do not answer questions about the fate of the two Frenchmen, who were shot down Aug.

A self-described schizophrenic who posed as a wounded Marine captain and advocated for veterans' causes for more than a year before he was unveiled as a fraud was arrested Friday in San Diego, federal officials reported. Rick Glen Strandlof, 32, will be charged with making false claims about the receipt of military medals, a misdemeanor under the Stolen Valor Act, a three-year-old law that criminalizes either wearing or claiming to have a medal that one did not earn. If convicted, he faces a maximum penalty of one year in prison and a $250,000 fine.

In the power corridors of Washington, there is debate about whether to send more U.S. troops to Afghanistan. But here at Camp Pendleton, the training and deploying of Marines, with a focus on Afghanistan, continue. In the last two weeks, 2,100 Marines and sailors have left here on what is scheduled to be a six-month training mission in the western Pacific and Persian Gulf but could easily turn into a combat assignment in Afghanistan. Two hundred special-forces Marines from Camp Pendleton are in the final stages of training before leaving for Afghanistan.

Javier Olvera never made plans with his friends while on military leave in Palmdale last spring. Instead, he rounded them up for impromptu trips to the beach, park and Littlerock Dam in the Antelope Valley. "He would say it was never good to plan because things never come out according to plan," said his brother, Nery, 25. The only plan Javier did make was to start college after four years of service in the Marine Corps. But that idea was dashed last month when he was killed in combat in southwest Afghanistan.

One night in April 2007, as Mike Partain hugged his wife before going to bed, she felt a small lump above his right nipple. A mammogram -- a "man-o-gram," he called it -- led to a diagnosis of male breast cancer. Six days later, the 41-year-old insurance adjuster had a mastectomy. Partain had no idea men could get breast cancer. But he thinks he knows what caused his: contaminated drinking water at Camp Lejeune, N.C., where he was born. Over the last two years, Partain has compiled a list of 19 others diagnosed with male breast cancer who once lived on the base.

A Marine based in Twentynine Palms is set to receive the Navy Cross today for bravery during combat in Afghanistan. Lance Cpl. Richard Weinmaster, 20, of Cozad, Neb., was part of the 2nd Battalion, 7th Regiment deployed last year to break the Taliban's hold on Helmand Province. On a July 8 foot patrol, Weinmaster's squad was ambushed. Weinmaster used his body to protect his squad leader and other Marines from the blast of an enemy grenade. Although seriously wounded, he continued to fire at the attackers, forcing them to flee.

Bill Geary, 88, a cattle rancher from Montana, paused Saturday to look at pictures and maps detailing the carnage of the World War II battle on the island of Peleliu. Geary, who fought there as a Marine, was succinct in his assessment. "It was a nasty place," he said as he walked a passageway dubbed the Hall of Heroes aboard the amphibious assault ship named for the battle. What was nasty about it? Geary was asked. "Everything," he said, "absolutely everything." It was a morning of remembrances for Geary and 10 other Marine veterans honored in San Diego as members of the 12th Defense Battalion, a unit of the 1st Marine Division, the division that led the U.S. assault on the Japanese garrison.

As investigators began searching for reasons why two military helicopters collided during maneuvers, a Defense Department official on Saturday defended the safety of the equipment involved, which included one of the oldest type of aircraft in military service. "These are good aircraft," said Deputy Secretary of Defense John White, who toured the crash site Saturday with senior officials. "Their safety record is very good."

Shortly after the first Marines were killed in Iraq, a reporter called the military base in Twentynine Palms and asked Sgt. Jennie Haskamp of the public affairs office if she would issue an e-mail each time a Marine from there is killed in combat. As the public face of the Marine Corps, Haskamp's job is to handle such queries tactfully. But the request that death notices be sent out like stock quotes touched a nerve, and she tore into the reporter. "You see it as a news story!"

Two enlisted Marines are kneeling on the ground, quickly stuffing gauze into a gaping wound in a pig's belly to stop the bleeding. Another is doing a "blood sweep" to find other wounds. An officer, just inches from its snout, monitors its breathing and keeps the pig's thick tongue from blocking the airway. At the other end of the 150-pound swine, a Marine corporal has inserted a thermometer into its anus. "Come on, buddy, stay with us," Capt. Doug Verblaauw whispers to the heavily sedated pig, dubbed Gen. Dude.

A few days after he arrived at boot camp here, Joshua Fry no longer wanted to be a Marine. He was confused by the orders drill instructors shouted at him. He was caught stealing peanut butter from the chow hall. He urinated in his canteen. He talked back to the drill instructors. He refused to shave. Finally, he set out toward the main gate as if to head home. He was blocked, but now he had the chance to tell his superiors a secret: He was autistic.