Its a very interesting and long read. It looks like they don’t even buy the 1000 year old bs of TKD either.
Very informative.
The inspiration of MCMAP in ROK TKD is well established. It’s too bad WTF TKD didn’t follow in the ROK Marine’s footsteps.
And before anyone jumps me, I’m not saying ROK TKD is t3h r34l d34dly TKD. I already dealt with that in an earlier thread. ROK Marine TKD is hardcore…because they are fucking Marines in a country still at war, not because of significant differnces in their TKD.
I have trained with some of those boys. No bullshido there.
ron
As with all martial arts the difference is in how hard you train. Those ROK Marines train HAAAAARD in everything they do. Interesting read.
I was never stationed in Korea, but every Marine I spoke to said the Rok Marines were the biggest Asians they’ve ever seen. They also said that Monday thru Friday they’d wake up and do rifle runs in their skivies and undershirts in the snow.
A sergeant of mine during MCT spoke about being stationed there. He mentioned how American Marines were superior on squad tactics for moving fire and MOUT, but that the ROK Marines smoked their asses in PT easily.
We are really lucky to have such a superb foreign section of our military over there.
Hey, same here. I did MCT at Pendelton in April/May of 92. How about you?
Pendleton as well, though in 2000. Just a little bit after you 
I graduated Meritorious Mass as Squad Leader even though Physical Therapy from MRP failed to rehab my fractured shins. Standard boot camp is 13 weeks, but mine lasted about 6 months. I then had to spend another 3 months or so in BMP before getting released to MCT and my shins were still screwed up.
The first and third humps weren’t too bad, as I was directly behind the guide, but the Ankle Breaker seriously fucked me up.
I was doing fine until we stopped in front of a vertical mountain. I asked the Sergeant, “Sergeant, where is the path around?” to which he replied, “Marines don’t go around, Devil Dog…we go through!”
I looked out for my squad, though, so they looked after me. A 6’4" weight lifter shifted behind me and gave me a gentle push every now and then when my legs would fail.
That walk down sure was sweet, though. Coasting on screwed up legs as if they were roller blades, my life couldn’t have been better.
Semper Fi.
So you got to do your urban combat training at that cool new town they built, huh? We had to go to that cheezy ass shantytown that was made out of plywood and 2x4’s. Good times.
Those humps were horrible. I turned my ancle going up Mt. Motherfucker, but I didn’t fall out though. I’m way too hard for that…NOT!!! I just wasn’t about to give up my weekend.
The little town was pretty cool. We did all sorts of clearing/jumping/safety drills there, including mock shoot outs with blanks and those fake grenades. Learned the high choke fire, the chicken neck, wall clearing, and all that other cool MOUT stuff.
MCT was probably the most enjoyable part of basic training. Boot Camp was an exercise in humiliation, and my MOS school kept everyone in holding for months at a time. MCT was fun, though.
I remember one night in the field when me and a few members of my squad had to make the “Water Trip” down the side of the mountain where we were camped. It was a good half mile or so up hill, and the Sergeant kept saying, “Squad Leaders need to keep their hands free to direct”, so I wasn’t allowed to help carry the water.
Instead, when my guys started to fall out, I began taking everyones rifle and walk/dragging guys that were slowing. I didn’t even realize it at the time, since I was busy keeping my guys motivated, but I apparently collected about about 8 or 9 rifles situated and dangling from various parts of my body.
Right before I could give them back at the campsite, the Platoon Sergeant came by and caught me. He was a real hard edged grunt that gave everyone shit, and I was certain he’d beat my ass for “Not Keeping My Hands Free”.
Instead, he counted the rifles as he handed them back, eyed me carefully, then said, “You carried about 20 more lbs than everyone else.” After eyeing me for a few minutes, he shot me a look of approval and left without saying anything else.
Funny, the things you remember.
What was your MOS?
(Sorry for the thread derailment. We’re talking about Marines…which is topic related…right?)
2531 Field Radio Operator. I grew up in San Diego by the way. Lakeside to be specific. Where are you living?
Radio Operator! Don’t you mean “Guy wid Radio…shoot im!”
I was originally a grunt, but after all the leg breakage they changed me to 0411…glorified report creator/parts orderer.
I’m in East County, just shy of Lakeside. “The Table”, to be specific. I grew up in North County and Coastal North County.
Yup!
Know where I can get some Meth? 
Unless there is a hidden innuendo there that I’m not getting, you are certainly asking the wrong guy. I’m about as boring and law abiding as they get.
I can suggest some awesome food places, and some good bottles of wine to get…but other than that, I’m probably no help to you
Sorry, it was a joke. El Cajon used to be the Meth capital of the world. Back when I ran those streets you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a meth lab.
Ah, I see. I actually live in La Mesa and stay away from El Cajon because of that. Now your comment makes sense, and I’ll stop looking at you funny
Since we are already off topic, my kung fu teacher was a ROK marine. He came over to the US to get a degree in automotive technology in Missouri. One time he was applying for a scholarship and asked me to proof it for him…he was very proud since he applied all that he had learned in various classes and plus it showed his increasing proficiency with the english language.
Under skills he put stuff like demolitions, anti-sentry duty, hand-to-hand combat, marksmen, and other stuff I’m not too familiar with. He looked puzzled when I told him that, while those are indeed very important skills, they weren’t very appropriate for a scholarship application.
He was uber hardcore. He could smoke a pack of smokes and still run circles around us. Oh, and while he was forced to learn TKD as a ROK marine, he hated it.
Anti-Sentry Duty
"Hey Private, your on Anti-Sentry Duty.’
“Sergeant…what does that mean?”
“Well, son…I’m not too sure, except that I figured you’d want to put it on your resume at some point in the future.”
“Gee, Sergeant, thats awful nice of you. So what do I do, then?”
“Well…run around in that field out there and let us know if you find any mines.”
“Wait…isn’t that called Mine Sweeping?”
“DO YOU WANT TO PUT ANTI-SENTRY DUTY ON YOUR RESUME OR NOT, PRIVATE?!?!”
I went to Grossmont High for my Junior year. We lived in those appartments over by the Trolly satation.
To be honest, I thought “Bitch Ridge” was worse then “Mnt Mother Fu”. Of course alot of it is just a blur in my memory now. I remember falling asleep on my feet. Also , another fond memory is that I just so happened to have on a pair of boxers when we started this hump. To this day I will not wear boxers for anything but sleeping in.
3 pair of boxers, 3 pair of breifs. Finished the rest with only three pair of skivies.
Bry
Other way around here. I refuse to wear tighty whiteys…ever. I’ll go commando over wearing nut huggers. Besides, after those long hikes and your tighty whiteys climb far enough up your rear to scratch your throat…why would you even think of wearing tighty whiteys again?