Marine’s posthumous memoirs tell gritty story of Jewish honor

Herbert Hoover is president, Maj.-Gen. Smedley Butler challenges Mussolini to a duel, cigarettes are traded for Milky Ways and a teenage Jewish immigrant from Poland enlists.

Samuel Rimler begins his memoir, "A Marine Remembers," in 1930s New York. That's the point at which he joins the Marine Corps and becomes one of its relatively few Jewish recruits.

Rimler's story has been published posthumously by his son Walter of Martinez. Walter Rimler says his father's story is about a time and place probably unfamiliar to many younger readers. But the premise, he says, "is not so unusual today."

"My father was a dropout, he was self taught, and he only got up to eighth grade. A lot of people find themselves in similar positions, who are immigrants."

More unusual, says Walter Rimler, is that upon reading his father's recollections he developed a respect for the military new to him as a child of the '60s.

"[My father] was on the streets and [the military] turned his life around. He felt a great loyalty toward the Marines... and I began to understand how the [armed] services are important. People should understand that even though war is awful, there sometimes is a need for people trained in the military, people who can do what needs to be done to keep from being invaded by the Nazis."

In the book, the streetfighter from New York City isn't always dodging enemy bullets. But he does stand up for himself -- and fellow Jews -- when faced with occasional anti-Semitism within the barracks, gaining the reputation as the Jew whom you don't want to cross.

Although proud of his heritage, "he didn't believe that God was protecting the Jews," says Walter Rimler, a former longtime San Francisco resident. "But when we had no money, he sent money to Israel. He was a secular Jew who was worried about Israel's survival and anti-Semitism. I feel much like he did."

Samuel Rimler began writing the vignettes for his grandchildren when he was in his early 80s. He was honest in revealing his adventures, many of which he was ashamed. Like others of his time, Rimler, who was born in 1912, starts off at the bottom of the ladder with little more than pocket change. But in his case, misfortune leads to lucky circumstance and a future in the U.S. Marines, and later, the Navy.

He'd been fired from his job at a stationary store. He writes: "Earlier, while sweeping the store, I had spotted a crumpled two-dollar bill under a counter and had pocketed it. The money had been deliberately placed there by the owner to test my honesty and I had failed the test. Now I walked the streets without a job, without purpose, and without direction.

"As I neared Lexington Avenue, my eyes were attracted to a poster of a Marine in dress blues. Reflections of the movie 'What Price Glory?' flashed through my mind and I came closer to get a better look." Soon after, he enlisted.

Rimler introduces the reader to prostitutes wooed by his gentlemanly innocence, characters like the "legendary" Maj.-Gen. Smedley Butler -- a Marine's Marine -- who reduces the hero to a bag of nerves, and friends and enemies within the ranks that test his moral strength.

Proud to be a Marine, he was so upset when a superior reprimands him for the ham sandwich grease stain on his pack, that he quits the corps. Regretful, he never forgives himself when his old battalion goes on to suffer heavy casualties at Guadalcanal.

Admitting his failures, Rimler's strong sense of duty and humble virtue create a likeable, sympathetic voice.

Whether it's the constant consumption of Milky Way candy bars or tales of courage where a speedy, painless death is the only hope, Walter Rimler wants these stories heard and preserved.

"We, the World War II generation, are dying. Any memoir from anyone who participated in that generation is valuable and should not be lost," he says.

After having a few of his own books printed ("Not Fade Away" by Pierian Press, "A Gershwin Companion" by Pop Culture Ink, and his self-published, "A Cole Porter Discography"), Walter Rimler's interest in publishing led him to try a hand at distributing his father's book.

Samuel Rimler died in his late 80s, in 1999, a few years after Walter had "asked him to write more.

"But he just stopped," with no explanation, said his son.

He believes his father would have been very happy to know that his work was made available to the public.