There is a dark young man in the Marine Corps right now, who put on a set of dungaree and tried to lose his identity.

He tried very hard-harder in fact than some of the other ?boots,? or recruits, afflicted with glamour. But he didn?t succeed, and it wasn?t his fault. After three weeks in the Recruit Depot, at San Diego, California (or boot camp) he was awarded the Honor Man badge for being the outstanding man of his platoon.

More than that, the award was made by Colonel George T. Hall, who commands the Recruit Depot and knows his boots.

All of which means that Tyrone Power is making an excellent Marine.

Nothing is being given Power because he was once the glamour boy of pictures. In fact, anyone associated with glamour or the business of acting, is regarded with great suspicion by the Corps.

This is strange, because the Marine Corps is a pretty glamorous outfit itself. The Corps considers itself on par with those other two glamorous outfits: the French Foreign Legion and the Royal Canadian Northwest Mounted Police. Heroic for one hundred and sixty-seven years, they think a great deal about their tradition. An old Marine will tell you that there are Mariens who are actually Marines-while some of them will stay ?boots?-that is, raw beginners-all their lives.

Tyrone Power will not stay a boot all his life. And the Corps is as proud of that as he is. In a quiet way. Very quiet, because the young an has had some annoyances, due to the fact that he was once a movie star One of the first things that impressed them at the Recruit Depot was Power?s height and strength. No less handsome off screen than on, he is however, both heavier and taller looking.

Like every other new man in the Corps, he had to take all the shots at first, and like almost every man, they left him limp. He didn?t want to eat; practically speaking, he didn?t want to breathe. It wasn?t until the third day that he could even look at the chow, but then the rest of the guys in his platoon saw that he was going to be regular about meals, too. He fell on them with as great an appetite as the rest of the fellows, and he?s kept pace with them ever since.

He was in for the usual kidding, plus. Every new man goes through the barbershop routine, but his was a little tougher than usual. Some of the guys tried to kid him by picking up locks of his hair, insinuating that they were either going to keep these locks in their memory books or send them all back to their best girls.

Ty took it all with such good grace that he won them all from the start. He didn?t want any publicity, and he said so. On the other hand, when they came to him from Public Relations Office and said that if he would pose for some pictures, it would be for the benefit of the Corps, he immediately consented.

He?s never looked like an athlete on screen, but when he got out on the obstacle courses, both the officers and the men discovered that he was an athlete, and a very good one.

In every way, Tyrone seemed to want to do nothing that was outside the accepted corps idea.

Perhaps it is a little undiplomatic to admit that there have been some recruits from Hollywood in all branches of service who have not been too popular. There have been a couple in the Corps that everybody at the post could have done without very nicely. Not one of them had any Hollywood importance that compared with Power?s. As a star, Power could probably have got away with a lot. Instead he came into service completely modest, unassuming, and even retiring. He made it plain from the first day that the only thing he wanted was to be the best possible Marine.

Power?s D.I. or drill instructor?s name is Platoon Sergeant Stanley B. Plaszczynski, and he has spent the last eight years-two hitches-serving the Corps in all parts of the world. The sergeant is big and tough. He knows his stuff?and he knows his men. This is what he says about Power: ?Power has a keen understanding of what we went him to do. He asks few questions, and when he does want to know something, he goes right to the point. And don?t think I?m saying this because he was a movie star. As far as we?re concerned, he is just one man in our platoon-and a damned good one.?

That is a direct quote-and that, ladies and gentlemen, is praise from Sire Gubert. You see, boot camp is run by NCO?s or non-commissioned officers. Young, rugged, intelligent, these D.I.?s or drill instructors, have to live with their men every minute of the seven weeks. They have to get up with them, eat at the same time, train with them, listen to their troubles, discipline them.

That?s why the quote from Platoon Sergeant Stanley B. Plaszczynski is praise from Sir Hubert. The sergeant?s assistant instructor, Sergeant John Onstad, feels the same way. So, too, does that platoon?s corporal, corporal B. D. Lewis who was brought through boot camp himself by Sergeant Plaszczynski. Sergeant Stanley B. Plaszczynski. Sergeant Stanley B. Plaszczynski

Yet what they don?t know is that the former motion picture actor had a ?boot? training all his own. It wasn?t too easy form him in Hollywood even though he was the son of a world-famous actor. He knew what it meant to starve and worry and get up at dawn to make the studios in the hope that he could get just one day?s extra work.

As fame cam to him slowly, he worked even harder. A star must keep himself in good condition. He must get up in the morning at a regular hour, have his breakfast, get to the studio on time. He knows what it is to work long hours, to keep himself conditioned so that if he?s called to play any part, he can play it.

So it wasn?t very strange to Ty Power when he was told to scrub and wash, to keep his rifle clean at all times, to hang his clothes up a certain way, to make his bunk according to regulations. He could take it.

But those weren?t the annoyances we mentioned. They came from outside the Corps. Some of the young ladies who heard Power was in boot camp moved heaven and earth try to get to see him.

But moving an M.P. is something else again. One of the guards at the gate told me that he never knew a man could have so many sisters, wives, aunts and cousins, as MR. Power seemed to have. The romantic young ladies had been informed that only a blood relative may visit a boot, and only in an emergency.

That?s why the guards started humming Gilbert and Sullivan at one another, particularly the line which runs: ?and his sisters and his cousins and his aunts?.Oh, his sisters and his cousins and his aunts? They came in droves, but they never got to see Tyrone.

Boot Camp is at the other end of the Marine Corps Base, a good mile from the main gate. Boots, themselves, are not permitted to stray from their particular area. They aren?t even permitted in the PX or Post Exchange, unless the entire platoon goes, escorted y their D.I.?s Tyrone found that he was very securely hidden from prying eyes in boot camp. And he was greatly relieved.

Some of the younger boots were impressed with the fact that an important motion picture actor was among them. They dug out pencils and scraps of paper and asked Tyrone for his autograph.

That happened just once. Then the D.I. got the boys together and told them a few things. He told them that Power was no longer a picture star. He was learning to be a Marine. And Marines just don?t give out autographs, even if they shoot down ten Zeroes over the Solomons. They don?t even give out autographs on checks, because the Marines who have checking accounts are about as scarce as Tyrone Powers.

After the D.I. got through explaining those things, the more persistent and annoying of the autograph-seekers were made ?captains of the head,? which, in Marine talk means they were given the washroom detail. After a week of this, they were cured of their adulation.

But Ty did give out one autograph. He was just starting for the clothes-line, bucket in hand, when he was waylaid by a square-jawed, bull-necked drill instructor.

the corporals? face was red---not only from the sun. He took Ty behind on of the building, safely out of sight ad explained himself. He didn?t give a damn about movie stars. In fact, he rarely went to see a picture. But his wife was a devoted picture fan. She went to the movies every day-sometimes twice a day. Now, she was working in a defense plant near Los Angeles. She was due to come down for the weekend. But she would come only on one condition: if her husband got her Tyrone Power?s autograph.

Under the circumstances, there wasn?t very much that Ty could do. He signed the paper held out to him, even inscribed it to the corporal?s wife. The drill instructor looked around furtively, pocketed the paper, mumbled his thanks, and disappeared in the direction of the phone booth.

At the current writing, Ty is at Camp Matthews, which is one of the Marine Corps rifle ranges. His schedule at the range is a difficult one. From the moment it is light enough to see, to the moment it?s too dark, Ty is up on the range, ?snapping in.? He is marching for miles up and down hills, with rifle and ammunition belt. The rains have made the range muddy. Ty, like the rest of his platoon is lying is the mud, learning the various positions the marines use to shoot. Offhand isn?t so bad. That?s the standing position. It?s apt to make your arm a bit tired, for though the Garand, or M-1 as it?s officially called, only weighs about ten pounds, it does get heave. But the sitting, kneeling, and prone positions are the ones that will get him at first.

In sitting, he will have to lock his elbows in his knees a certain way. He will have a tight sling on his left arm-tight enough to hurt. If he doesn?t bend down enough, a heavy rifle range coach will sit on his shoulders until he does. While taking the prone position, he will lie in mud for hours, simulating gunfire. His elbows, despite the shooting pads, will be raw. His rifle and sling will be instruments of torture.

But three weeks after coming to the range, he will shoot for record. On that exciting day, everything is forgotten. Pain, stiffness, the discomfort of the ground are all forgotten. Ty will load a clip of eight rounds into his rifle and commence firing when told. He will be given four seconds to reload.

On that day, after shooting sixty-eight rounds at two hundred, three hundred, and five hundred yards, he will find out whether he?s an expert, a sharpshooter, or a marksman. Or whether he qualifies at all.

But the chances are he?ll be pretty good out there. The D.I.?s have an uncanny knack of sizing up their men. The coaches on the range are even better. And Ty looks like good sharpshooter material.

Ty now knows how to field-strip his rifle in the dark and put it together again in three minutes. He knows how to clean and oil it. During his spare time, he studies his target book, in which every shot is marked. He goes to school and listens to lectures by coaches. He still scrubs and washes his clothes, from skivvies to dungarees. He still wishes he could go to the PX and buy some candy. He can?t wait for Sunday to come around so he may sleep an extra hour. He still drills and marches. Sunday night he watches the amateur show, put on by the boots themselves. He doesn?t even see a movie or USO show-not at the range. Maybe, if he?s very good, Annabella may take him out on a Sunday and buy him a dinner at La Jolla. But she?d better get him back at taps.

Ty still hasn?t made up his mind about the specialty he wants to pick. He isn?t certain about glider school yet. But the Marine Corps has every specialty the Army has, and many more of its own-on a smaller scale. So Ty has a wide choice.

But whatever he picks, he?ll do well. His D.I.?s are sure of that. And one of them even told me a secret. Frankly, I don?t know whether this is the truth. But this instructor is not a liar.

He says that Ty is crazy about the Corps; has more of a crush on it than he ever had on pictures. And he wants to stay in the Corps even after the war is over I reminded the D.I. that Twentieth Century Fox has a contract with Ty which is frozen only for the duration and six months. That made no impression on the D.I. Ty, he insists, wants to stay in the Corps, and Marines usually get their way-contract or no contract.