Two and a Half Centuries of Semper Fidelis

Today, Marines around the world are celebrating something remarkable: the 250th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Two hundred and fifty years. That’s a quarter of a millennium of unbroken service, tradition, and devotion to country.

I’m not the type to ask for thanks for my service—never have been, never will be. But days like today make me pause and reflect on what it meant to be part of something so much bigger than myself, even if it was nearly three decades ago.

The Long View of History

When I raised my right hand at eighteen, fresh out of high school in 1992, the Corps was already 217 years old. Ancient by any measure, yet I felt that weight of history from day one at Parris Island. Every drill instructor, every tradition, every seemingly impossible standard was part of an unbroken chain stretching back to Tun Tavern in Philadelphia, where it all began in November 1775.

Think about that for a moment. Before there was a United States of America, there were Marines. Before the Declaration of Independence was signed, Marines were already fighting for the cause of freedom. We were there when the nation was born, and we’ve been there through every chapter since—the good times and the hard ones, the victories and the losses, the moments of triumph and the long, grinding years when no one was paying attention.

The Rhythm of Remembrance

If you’ve ever been to a Marine Corps Birthday Ball, you know there’s something almost sacred about the cake-cutting ceremony. It’s not just pageantry—though the dress blues and the formal setting certainly add to the gravity of the moment. It’s the symbolism that gets you.

The oldest Marine present gets the first piece of cake, then hands it to the youngest. Experience passing to youth. Wisdom meeting eagerness. The old warrior saying to the new one: “Here, take this. It’s yours now. Carry it forward.”

I remember standing in that line as one of the younger Marines, watching grizzled staff sergeants and gunny sergeants who’d served in Vietnam, who’d been there when I was still in diapers. They’d seen things I could barely imagine, done things I wasn’t sure I was capable of. But they were handing me that cake—and with it, the responsibility to uphold everything they’d built and protected.

Years later, at my last birthday ball before leaving the Corps in early 1998, I wasn’t the youngest anymore. Time has a way of moving you down that line, whether you’re ready or not.

What 250 Years Means

The 250th birthday feels different somehow. It’s not just another milestone—it’s a moment to recognize that we’re witnessing something historically significant. How many institutions, military or otherwise, can claim an unbroken 250-year heritage of service? How many can point to a culture and set of values that have remained essentially unchanged across two and a half centuries?

The Marines who fought in the Revolutionary War would recognize the Marines serving today. Oh, the technology has changed—we’ve gone from muskets to precision-guided munitions, from sailing ships to helicopters and F-35s. But the spirit? The commitment? The willingness to do the impossible because someone said it needed doing? That’s exactly the same.

I served with HMLA-369, working as an intelligence analyst after my time at Marine Combat Training. Not the most glamorous job, but every Marine—regardless of MOS—is a rifleman first. That’s not just a slogan; it’s a mindset. Whether you’re flying helicopters, maintaining radios, or analyzing intelligence reports, you’re expected to meet the same standards, uphold the same traditions, and be ready to fight if called upon.

The Weight of the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor

The Marine Corps taught me things that no classroom ever could. It taught me that excellence isn’t an accident—it’s a habit you build through repetition and discipline. It taught me that leadership isn’t about rank or title; it’s about taking care of your people and making the hard decisions when they need to be made. It taught me that there’s something powerful about being part of an organization that refuses to lower its standards, even when—especially when—everyone else thinks those standards are too high.

But perhaps most importantly, it taught me about legacy. Not in some abstract, philosophical sense, but in the very real, tangible way that your actions today become part of the story that the next generation inherits. Every Marine who’s ever served becomes part of that unbroken chain, that continuous thread of service that now stretches across 250 years.

Looking Forward, Not Back

I’m proud of my service, but I don’t live in the past. The Marine Corps certainly doesn’t. One of the things I’ve always admired about the Corps is its ability to honor tradition while constantly evolving to meet new challenges. The Marines landing on the beaches of Iwo Jima would feel right at home with the values and culture of today’s Marines, but they’d be amazed by the capabilities, the technology, and the sheer professionalism of the modern Marine Corps.

As we celebrate 250 years, I think about the young Marines putting on dress blues tonight for birthday balls around the world. They’re carrying forward something precious—not just a military organization, but a set of ideals about what it means to serve something greater than yourself. They’re the latest link in that unbroken chain, and if history is any guide, they’ll add their own chapter to the story with the same courage and dedication as all who came before.

Semper Fidelis

The motto says it all: Always Faithful. Faithful to country, faithful to Corps, faithful to each other. It’s not just what we say; it’s who we are. And after 250 years, through revolution and civil war, through world wars and police actions, through peacetime and conflict, that hasn’t changed.

Happy 250th birthday, Marines. Here’s to the next 250 years.

Once a Marine, always a Marine.