From the Halls of Montezuma – 1966“T
hem are called blood stripes,” the salty old Master Gunnery Sergeant said as Shake watched a seamstress tack the red stripes on his trousers. “You know what they stand for, right?”
I had heard the story of fighting in the Mexican-American War just like every other Marine in regular history classes. According to a firmly entrenched legend, the red stripe worn by all Marine officers and NCOs was in commemoration of the blood spilled by Marines in the 1847 assault on Chapultepec. I’d also heard it was mostly myth, a Marine Corps folk-tale, and I said so. That didn’t sit well with the Master Guns.
“Young agent, I’m thinking you need a little Professional Military Education.” He poked me in the chest with a stubby finger. “Look here—I got a buddy on embas
