War of Words Breaks Out at Camp Pendleton

One of the proudest boasts of the U.S. Marine Corps is that it is the most tradition-reverent of the military services. The Marines take a back seat to no service in celebrating their history, lionizing their heroes and cherishing their customs.

One tradition is that the corps permits, even encourages, a great deal of grousing within its ranks, particularly of the “things are not as tough as they used to be” variety.

“Every Marine at one time or another will say boot camp was tougher, the last war was tougher, everything was tougher,” said Michael Neil, a retired Marine Corps brigadier general. “Marines hold on to their traditions very tightly. Tradition gives us strength.”

There are limits, however.

Take the plight of Staff Sgt. Paul Rinnander, an otherwise obscure enlisted man whose career was turned upside-down for expressing an adverse--if commonplace--opinion when quizzed by the base newspaper at Camp Pendleton.

The peacetime fate of a lone enlisted man in the 172,000-member corps will probably not be recorded by military historians. Still, Rinnander’s case is provoking a good deal of barracks debate these days and appears to have split the corps into opposing camps over the issue of free speech versus respect for authority.

To his regret, Rinnander, 29, a Californian and 11-year veteran with a spotless record that includes successful tours as a recruiter, did not make his criticism directly to the current commandant, Gen. Charles Krulak, or through other official channels.

Krulak, who encourages no-holds-barred questions and complaints from his troops during his frequent visits to far-flung bases, even has an e-mail address if someone wants to lodge a personal complaint.

Rinnander had not planned to make any criticism at all until a reporter for the Scout, fielding quotes for a “Marine on the street” column in the base newspaper, asked him whether anything bugs him about the Marine Corps.

“Recruit discipline,” Rinnander responded instantly. “There is a total lack of discipline and respect shown by Marines coming out of basic training.” The response was thoroughly Marine.

“It’s a warrior culture,” said retired Col. John Kaheny, “and that means there is a lot of mysticism about the past. Regardless of how many medals you have, you’re not as tough as [World War II hero] ‘Chesty’ Puller,” for example.

Privates barely out of boot camp complain that newcomers have it easy.

Rinnander’s comment probably would have passed without much notice, but for the fact that, on the day it was published, Sgt. Major Lewis G. Lee, the corps’ senior enlisted man, happened to be at Camp Pendleton.

A Marine for 31 of his 48 years, Lee is a salty talking North Carolinian, a combat veteran of Vietnam and a recipient of two Purple Hearts. He is the commandant’s top advisor on matters involving the enlisted ranks. He read the quote and hit the roof.

“Hell, I don’t care what Marines say to each other, I’ve heard it all,” Lee said. “But, hey, you take a swipe in public at what the commandant and I and a lot of fine Marines are trying to do, you shoot your mouth off to a newspaper, and you’re going to hear from me.”

It was not long before Rinnander heard from Lee, loudly and clearly.

First, he received orders to report to the recruit depot at Parris Island, S.C., by Jan. 2, to become a drill instructor. This despite the fact Rinnander was not due for reassignment for months and that uprooting him would mean he could not see his children, ages 9 and 5, who live with his ex-wife in San Diego.

Rinnander also received a blistering e-mail from Lee, who had returned to Marine Corps headquarters at Quantico, Va. The missive began with Lee expressing regret he could not bawl out Rinnander in person.

“It would have been an unforgettable meeting for you,” Lee messaged. “. . . Don’t respond to my e-mail, you’ll only [expletive] me off more at you than I already am.”

Rinnander was taken aback. He says he is glad for the chance to be a drill instructor--a prized and career enhancing post--but that the abruptness of the order struck him as punitive.

“I’m in the Marine Corps to help defend and protect the Constitution, and I thought that meant freedom of speech,” Rinnander said. “Now it looks like I’m being punished for speaking what I think is the truth.”

When Rinnander expressed his concern through the chain of command, wheels began to turn. On Christmas Eve, he learned that his reassignment to Parris Island will be delayed long enough for him to finish his tour at Pendleton.

On the other hand, Rinnander’s suggestion that he serve his drill instructor duty at the recruit depot in San Diego so he could be near his children was not heeded. His future is at Parris Island, where Lee once held the same job.

Lee said he does not want to talk to Rinnander and does not plan to back down an inch. “Absolutely not,” he said last week. “It ain’t in my nature.”

The Rinnander-Lee situation has provoked a flurry of letters to the Marine Corps Times, a nationwide weekly owned by the Gannett Corp.

Marine Corps Times--and its brethren, Navy Times, Army Times and Air Force Times--serve for the military the same function the (London) Times Literary Supplement does for the world of letters: It is a venue for carrying on disputes of passionate concern to a dedicated constituency.

Letter writers in recent editions have been split. A retired captain in Laguna Beach wrote that Lee owes Rinnander a public apology. But a first sergeant in Maine praised Lee and said that Rinnander lacks discipline.

Like good strategists, each side sought to capture the high ground: in this case, of being more in keeping with Marine tradition.

“In my 31 years as an active duty Marine . . . I have never heard of a sergeant major of the Marine Corps even considering doing what Sgt. Maj. Lee did,” wrote a major from Tennessee.

But a retired master sergeant from Palm Desert praised Lee’s quick response: “Outstanding! One would think we were back in the Vietnam War era, in which swift and decisive actions were taken by platoon, company and battalion-level noncommissioned officers . . . rather than later with formal red tape, endless discussions, and touchy-feely inadequate resolutions.”

Others counseled both sergeants to retreat and regroup.

“Hopefully, like all of us who have made mistakes, [Rinnander] will take it on the chin, shake it off and move on smartly about his business,” wrote a lieutenant colonel from Washington state.

Rinnander is willing to do that, but he is worried that his career is permanently crimped. “The sergeant major has a lot of power and a lot of friends,” he said.

Nonsense, said the sergeant major.

“I did that boy a favor,” Lee said. “He said the Marine Corps should do a better job. Now he’s got a chance to prove he can help.”