 ) Open Squad Bays / NCO BarracksBy Marc "Devil Dog Of The Web" Iseli / Updated Dec. 2025 VMFP-3, 1980: The circus officially rolled into town for me on 11 February. Fresh out of fuel systems school and thinking I was hot stuff, I got my marching orders to MCAS El Toro, VMFP-3. They tossed me into barracks 450, second deck, and paired me up with LCpl. Ken Franco. Because the universe has a sense of humor, we scored the end cubicle by the exit. No neighbors on either side, which was great, except every time some motivated Jarhead decided to make a tactical exit, the door would slam hard enough to rattle your fillings. Life in the barracks was all about those glorious open squad bays. Downstairs, the NCO on duty would be holding down the fort, probably counting the minutes until liberty, with the TV room next door blasting reruns of Emergency, The Twilight Zone, and Kung Fu. One day, I did a recon of the whole place and found a room on the third deck, right across from the head, taped off like a crime scene. Turns out, a Marine had checked out for good in there back in 1980. Morale, as always, was sky-high. How could anyone forget Thursday night field day? Nothing says 'living the dream' like scrubbing the head until it shines, buffing floors until your arms fall off, and then getting the privilege of a Friday morning inspection. The brass tried to motivate us by promising the cleanest, most squared-away room and a ticket to the four-man NCO barracks. Ken and I went full scavenger mode, raiding empty rooms for the best gear, lamps, desks, whatever wasn't nailed down. We got picked, made the move, and then Ken bailed out of town, leaving me with a private room until I checked out permanently in 1983. Not gonna lie, I was a terrible fit for open squad bays. I'm a light sleeper, and with Marines rolling in at all hours, working nights and trying to rack out during the day was a lost cause. My solution? Sneak up to the deserted third deck, where bunks were scattered as if a hurricane had hit. I'd haul my TV up there, catch some sports, and rack out. Every so often, the NCO on duty would do his rounds, and I'd go, full ninja, until he cleared out. Best sleep I ever got in the Corps.  Photos courtesy of Mark Henson, click on to enlarge.
Alright, you glorious Rat Phixers and Phlyers, if we ever survived a TAD, a Det, or a BOHICA, who haven't, and you didn’t think I was the biggest gaff off in the squadron. Got a sea story, or some grainy photos your ex didn’t set on fire, and they’re only slightly illegal? Send ‘em by email, snail mail, or safety wire it to a carrier pigeon. I collect ‘em all, just nothing that would incriminate me. 80svmfp3@gmail.com Return To The Home Page  |
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