Once, when I was serving aboard a light cruiser, the ship's company included a detachment of Marines, since we were the flagship. Our seagoing bellhops provided good entertainment for us squids. The captain of Marines was a bullet-headed hard charger who made his Marines do calisthenics on the fantail, regardless of weather or sea conditions. And he made them exercise in their cammies and combat boots. We used to stand around on the 02 level and watch them slip and slide and fall down, every time those combat boots hit the wet deck.

I recall one time when the good captain had his boys in formation at morning quarters, again on the fantail, on a day when the seas were running high and the decks were wet. Captain W**** took the gunny's report, saluted, and executed a Marine-perfect about face. His spit-shined leather soled shoes skidded on the wet deck and he landed flat on his butt. He received the applause of scores of appreciative sailors.

All that being said, though, we admired and respected the Marines, though we'd never admit to them. All you have to do is mention Iwo Jima aboard a Navy ship, and everything goes respectfully quiet.