D. Clarke Evans Photographer

Genaro Garcia

MSgt. USMC, Ret.
1950–1970

Sgt. Genero Garcia
Korea, 1952

I am a proud Marine, so when people say “oh you’re a former Marine” and I say “No, I AM a Marine!”

I grew up in San Antonio, living in an alley with the toilet outside. At that time, a Hispanic male could become a garbage man, sell food, or become a bus driver, but I wanted more. Since I knew a lot of Hispanics in the Corps, I knew the Marine Corps would be a much better choice, so I joined when I was 17.  When I entered basic training in 1950, the Marine Corps was still segregated. There were two Hispanics in my platoon, but the African American recruits had their own boot camp. We didn’t have any race problems in the Corps, but did in Texas. During the early 50’s, even though I was Hispanic, in most places race was not an issue, but in Texas it was. There were still certain places even Hispanics were not allowed to enter or associate with “Whites” such as restaurants, restrooms and some water fountains.

In late 1951, I fought in Korea for a year. I carried a Browning Automatic Rifle and was leader of a 4-man fire team. It was in the high mountains near the DMZ. My next duty assignment was Sea Duty on an old WWII aircraft carrier, the Ticonderoga CV-14, where I served  for two years. 

Twice, in the late 1960’s, I fought in Vietnam. I was a Platoon Sergeant, where I was wounded and was sprayed with Agent Orange. As a result I have been through several surgeries and cancer. While serving in Vietnam, I was offered a combat commission to Second Lieutenant, but I turned it down. I did not want to get killed that soon! When you are in Combat Infantry, it kind of gets to you. Your mind is always thinking—can I survive another day? You become religious. However, for some combat men, when the war and fighting is over, they go back to being the same ol’ person they always were.

Personally, I believe you gotta be a little crazy to join the Marines.

After my discharge from the Marines, I worked for Methodist Hospital for 20 years. I’m 82 now. I’m grateful, I’ve seen history. I’m not afraid to die.

Best day as a Marine: There were a lot of mornings I woke up and said, “Great I’m still alive.” {08-22-2013 • San Antonio, TX}