About Me - The Marines

An Officer in the Marines

Picture of my in my officer's dress blues, May 1992.

"Special Trust and Confidence"

I spent three and a half years as an infantry officer in the Marines - most of my time leading a platoon of 35 Marines. I was the platoon commander of 3rd Platoon, E Co., 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment, based in Kaneohe, Hawaii - not a bad place to be stationed.

Prior to my assignment in the 'Fleet' as operational Marine units are called, I spent nine months in Quantico, Virginia, where all Marine officers undergo six months of training at The Basic School (TBS). This way, all Marine officers share a common background.

I then went on to 13 weeks of IOC, Infantry Officer's Course, one of the most demanding training programs - designed to create leaders to take Marines into combat - little did I know that combat would not be far away.

We flew out to Okinawa Japan to begin a routine six month rotation. It was August 2nd, 1990.

On our arrival, officers were summoned to the base theater the next morning. We expected the standard welcome aboard speech.

Instead, our commander informed us that Iraq had invaded Kuwait and was poised to push into Saudi Arabia. Our national security was at risk. Army airborne units were enroute, as were Marine amphibious ready groups.

We were to be on the ground in ten days to defend Saudi Arabia. We were going into harm's way for our country.

The room swallowed in unison.

Me with some of my Marines in Saudi Arabia

Me and my platoon command group in defensive positions south of Khafji, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
Left to right, 'Doc' Knowles, Lance Corporal Kovko, my radioman; me, Staff Sergeant Staples, my platoon sergeant.

Picture of me with a M249 SAW in my 'war paint.'

Me on the flight deck of the USS Belleau Wood, enroute to Hawaii from San Diego, May 1989.

My platoon crossed the border into Kuwait on Feb 21, 1991 with the mission of attacking an Iraqi observation post on the border. In the dark desert night, we never found the Iraqi position.

Lt. Seto with an M249 squad automatic weapon (SAW). Quantico, VA. 1989.

Over the next few days, we advanced pell mell north into Kuwait, spending six hours in the pitch black Al Wafra oilfields, the noon sun completely blocked out by oil well fires. We rode through a Dante-esque scene, everything around us black, and every 100 meters a orange tower of flame fountaining from destroyed oil wells.

A day later we arrive at the Kuwait International Airport on the outskirts of the capital. Every window and runway light is smashed by the departing Iraqis. We ride into the city at the head of a convoy, Kuwaiti and US flags appear in windows and the populace comes out to cheer us.

After two days holding the airport, we pull back to Saudi Arabia. America's 100-hour war smashed the Iraqi army and my one and only war is over. I did not fire a shot in anger.

Me in our perimeter al Wafra oil fields, Kuwait.

Me in a charcoal chemical protective suit, Al Wafra oilfield burns in the background, Day 2 of the war, and we are already in Kuwait. You can see my Marines dug into fighting positions behind me on the sand berm.

Right - Lt. Chris Goff and I enjoy our first beer in five months at Bangor, Maine airport, on our way back to Hawaii. Mission accomplished.

Like many other Marines, I never thought I would get the chance to go to war, something most of us at some level wanted. War provided the ultimate test of all our training and the experience for transforming ourselves.

Looking back, I am glad for the opportunity to prove myself as a combat leader, and even more grateful for being able to bring all my Marines back alive.