Be A "Marine For A Day!"
Stationed at Camp Lejeune, NC, in the late 1950s, I often would drive down to Charleston for a long weekend. My dad once was involved in an accident while I was there and I called the base to arrange an emergency leave.
I forget the details now but The Corps decided I needed to drive back up to the base and actually pick up the leave papers. My teenage younger brother said he would ride up and back with me to help me stay awake.
Arriving at the base that evening we were told paperwork would have to be done in the morning. Too cheap - and short of cash - to go to a motel, I brought my 16-year old brother into my barracks for the night.
For a SOS breakfast in the mess hall, he wore a set of my utilities and some borrowed boots, but we still did not get to leave. I found I had a photo assignment with a bunch of reservists out in the field so I gave him a clipboard and we hopped into a jeep.
I had briefed him on how to respond with the name of my company and battalion if he were asked but I nearly panicked when I saw a reserve officer walk up to him. My brother gave a snappy salute, talked a moment and saluted again as the lieutenant left.
As we drove back to get him out of uniform and grab the paperwork, I said "where did you learn to salute?" "In the Boy Scouts," he answered, giving me a crisp three finger salute.
I hope the statute of limitations has expired.