Semper Fi Turns 250: An Eyewitness Account of the Marines' Historic Birthday Bash

On Nov. 10, thousands of Marines and their families packed into a narrow street of historic Philadelphia, a few hundred yards from where Tun Tavern once stood. It was exactly 250 years since the Continental Marines were formed at the Tun, answering the Continental Congress' call. We know that military branch now as the United States Marine Corps.

This writer was fortunate enough to attend several of the events commemorating the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Marine Corps' founding. I stood in the rain at the graveside of Maj. Samuel Nicholas, the "first Marine commandant" and first commissioned Marine officer, who led the successful amphibious assault on the Bahamas during the Revolution. For many years Nicholas' grave was unmarked in the Quaker graveyard, since the Quakers rarely put up headstones and never for soldiers. But his remains have since been identified and a simple memorial set up in recent years, so that Marines can come pay their respects to the very first Marine.

Next was the main event of the day, centered around a makeshift stage by the site where the original Tun is set to be rebuilt. A Navy chaplain led an invocation rich in prayers for brave heroes past and present. Medal of Honor recipients mingled with the crowd. A major general recalled his service on the front lines in Iraq, and how the Marines were "more lethal" than ever. 

"It's no joke that we are the first to fight, and that we fight for right and freedom," the major general said, referencing John 15:13 and the heroism of dying for one's friends. "There's three types of Marines. You have those that are currently serving," those "Marines subject to recall" at any time—and those "guarding the streets of Heaven." 

My great-uncle Bruce Webb is part of the latter cadre.

A young Marine cut a birthday cake with a massive sword and handed pieces to a relative of Maj. Samuel Nicholas and a WWII veteran of Okinawa. The Leatherneck Pipes and Drums played the national anthem and the Marines' Hymn on bagpipes as veterans belted out the stanzas. The only low point was a vile performance by a "comedian" who ranted at length about his hatred and/or disdain for Christianity, Judaism, and Republicans.

After the event transitioned to a block party, I walked to the marker next to the site of the original Tun Tavern, sadly long since knocked down and now paved over with a modern road. Men, women, and children poured down the street and stood in line, eager to take photos with the marker and a commemorative wreath, full of enthusiasm for the historic spot. Many veterans were trading stories of their time in the Marines. As I waited in line, an Iraqi war veteran and a Vietnam War veteran embraced, full of emotion at their comrades who had perished long ago and could not be there with them to celebrate.

But the celebrations didn't end Nov. 10. The next day, Veterans' Day, I crossed the river to New Jersey and boarded the WWII-era Battleship New Jersey docked there, now a floating museum. More than a hundred people, many of them Marines and veterans with a handful of ROTC cadets, huddled in a tent on deck in 36-degree weather with an icy wind rattling every loose bit of canvas and metal in the area. The cold didn't deter the Leatherneck Pipes and Drums from showing up in full regalia including kilts, playing Irish and American tunes with as much gusto as if the weather were sunny and warm.

USS New Jersey. Credit: Catherine Salgado

On stage, a chaplain in full uniform sat next to Vietnam veteran and Medal of Honor recipient Col. Harvey "Barney" Barnum Jr. Brigadier General Dustin "Warren" Byrum, one of the guests of honor, amicably stopped to snap a photo of me with the battleship, a favor I returned for him and his son. Marshall Spevak, CEO of the battleship Museum and Memorial, proudly placed Marine veterans who once served on the ship in the front row. Aside from Democrat Rep. Norcross (who largely seemed interested in promoting himself), all the speeches were inspirational. Col. Barnum was especially fired up, urging the audience to "keep the torch of liberty burning," emphasizing, "Only a strong America made up of strong Americans can remain a free America."

After the ceremony, I briefly met Col. Barnum. His hat showed the USS Harvey C. Barnum Jr., the new Navy ship named in his honor, but he displayed only humility in the face of that honor and his distinguishedmedal. He even protested at being prominently featured in the cake-cutting and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, saying he never served on the USS New Jersey and urging forward the men who had. 

"This is your ship," he assured them. 

Credit: Catherine Salgado

I then climbed down various steep, ladder-like stairs into the bowels of the battleship, crammed with a few dozen people into a tight space for the opening of a new exhibit on what life was like below-deck for the last set of troops who served on her during her final round of active service in the 1980s. Half a dozen members of the MARDET (Marine Detachment) from the 1980s, led by Ret. Master Gunnery Sergeant Arthur Avtia, gripped the huge pair of scissors and snipped the ribbon. "Let's see if this place echoes!" roared Col. Barnum, launching into the Marines' Hymn. I can attest to the fact that the hold echoed fit to blast the eardrums as the men bellowed out their favorite song with the unmatched and untiring pride and loyalty of United States Marines. 

Afterwards, I spoke with several of the MARDET veterans. "You're just here to do a job," two of them told me of their time aboard the battleship. Another man's face and voice were full of emotion as he told me he hadn't been on board since his youthful days of active service. The USS New Jersey "really shaped our lives, taking us to other ports … and seeing the world on this ship, [it was] the experience of a lifetime," he assured me. 

To borrow his words, I can truly say that attending the celebrations for the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Marine Corps was the experience of a lifetime. Semper Fi and thank you to the toughest fighting force in history.

(READ MORE: From West Point to Woke Point: The Long March Through the Ranks)