In the Old West, Bat Masterson was known as a heck of a fisherman. And yes, there were others. Of course later on there were men like Ernest Hemingway who wrote a lot about fishing of every sort really.
One of my favorite fisherman was my old Gunny. He found fishing wherever the Marine Corps stationed him. And if memory serves me right, yes he was not shy when it came to entering tournaments as well. Trout, Bass, Fly fishing, bank fishing, surf fishing, Marlin, Mahi Mahi, Blue Fin, Big Tuna in Hawaii, deep sea, off a pier, it never mattered to Gunnery Sergeant Jess Ferguson.
All you had to do was mention that a fishing trip may be a possibility and he'll jump right on it. I learned to trout fish from my Gunny, when I was a young Sergeant.
It was back in 1976, after finishing my tour of Sea Duty, I reported in at Correctional Custody Facility for Instructor Duty. I was there a few months when Gunny Ferguson walked up to me, and in his Oklahoma drawl asked me, "Cor-rare, do you fish?"
He always called me "Cor-rare".
I remember telling him that, "as a boy in Hawaii, I used to enjoy surf fishing especially with my grandfather."
Then he asked, "Do you trout fish?"
"No, I don't trout fish." I said with a tone that he read as not being very friendly to the notion.
"Why not?" he asked looking me right in the eyes.
"Because, when I first came to California, I went fishing with a friend from school. After we got our lines in the water, I asked him a question and he said that we shouldn't talk because that fish will hear us. Imagine that! So for the next 3 hours, other than getting a nibble now and then, it bored me to death!" I said while trying to make the Gunny understand how bad an experience it was.
"It sounds like you went trout fishing with the wrong people." he replied.
"Maybe but ..." then he cut me off .
"No maybes about it, Cor-rare! And this Saturday you are off duty and will go fishing at KC Springs with my family and Staff Sergeant Kelly. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."
I had all week to get my pole and setup a tackle box with everything that I'd need. And on Saturday, well I was getting in my old '57 Chevy when Staff Sergeant Kelly asked me to ride with him.
Now that was good since I didn't really know where KC Springs was on Camp Pendleton, but it was bad since I wouldn't have my own car if in case I was bored and wanted to leave.
Well it was a typical sunny day, not a lot of wind, and the Gunny helped me setting up my leaders. As we walked the few feet to the lake. The Gunny's wife and kids sat on the tailgate of their station wagon.
It looked sort of strange, but I didn't know if this is what they actually did when they went with him fishing.
The Gunny was the first to cast out, then Kelly and then me. After we said down on the bank, I asked the Gunny, " so you think ...."
He then moved a finger to his lips and said, "Shhhhhh! They hear you!"
Just then Kelly got a bite and jumped up and screamed like a madman. I looked over at the gunny and said, "Hey, what about Kelly?"
And yes, the Gunny just started laughing.
His wife and kids started laughing as well. Then the kids started running around and playing. His wife brought us beers and sandwiches. And the three of us ended up catching quite a few fish that day.
It was a great day, and a great time. And yes, that was when I fell in love with trout fishing. In fact that's why my old '57 Chevy started smelling more and more like a fish wagon right after that.
A few days latter back at Correction Custody, Sergeant Peterson asked how I enjoyed going fishing with the Gunny? I remember being in sort of a hurry that day, and all I said was that "it was fine."
Well unknown to me, the Gunny just happened to have walked up and was standing behind me when he heard me say that "it was fine." Then just as I was leaving to rejoin my Platoon, I heard "Cor-rare, meet me in my office in 20 minutes."
Twenty minutes later, I was at his office. We when through a few ideas for new classes, and then he popped a cigar in his mouth. We both liked White Owl Miniatures those days. He then looked at me and said, "Did you have a good time the other day?"
I can still remember his furled brow and him rolling that cigar from on side of his mouth to another as he waited for my response. He knew that I wasn't the most sociable person those days, and in fact was sort of a lone wolf other than my friendship with Corporal Mathis who worked pretty closely with me.
"You bet I did Gunny. In fact I went up there by myself the next day."
"Well that's not what it sounded like when Peterson asked you if you did. You know it is OK to say it was fun. And you know the secret of a good fish story don't you?"
"What is it?" I asked, waiting for him to hit me with some of his sage wisdom. And then it happened, as always, he didn't disappoint me.
He smiled and said, "Cor-rare, telling a good fish story doesn't mean you make the fish bigger. What you do is keep the fish the same size, but you make the catching sound better."
It's something that I've always tried to keep in mind my whole life.
I remember that it was during the summer in 1977 that Gunny Ferguson's name appeared on the First Sergeant Selectee List.
I was in the middle of re-enlisting when I had stopped the re-enlistment process.
Actually it was a few weeks before I left the Marine Corps the first time, that he and I got together and talked my leaving.
We definitely had a few beers that night. He didn't know if he wanted to take the promotion to First Sergeant, because it meant he'd have to sign up for another two years. I remember him telling me that he was always in my corner and that he backed me as an Instructor.
He went on to say that he thought that I should re-enlist, but understood why I was leaving the Corps. Later that night, I remember how he wanted me to turn on the Fire Alarm at my barracks to roust everyone out of bed.
He said if we got caught we could tell them that it was a drill to check on fire safety procedures. But as I was walking away to pull the alarm, he stopped me and laughted that we may want to rethink that action.
So we had another beer. And yes, he said that I was making a mistake by getting out and tried to get me to re-enlist that night.
Throughout my life, I look back on the only big mistake that I've ever made as being my leaving the Corps that year. I was leaving the one thing in the world that I loved doing. Being a Marine meant everything to me.
The reason was because my father was diagnosed with cancer. It was only after I got out that my dad's doctors admitted to making a mistake about my dad's diagnosis. It wasn't long after that that I re-enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserves. It was a great feeling to be home again.
Just a few days ago, I decided to write this story about Jess Ferguson. Then I had the curious thought as to whether or not I'd be able to find him using Google. I typed in his name and remembered that he was a First Sergeant after I left that first time.
To my amazement, I found him. He was living in Modall, North Dakota. He passed away in 2009 at the age of 72.
So who is Gunny Ferguson?
Well, in my book, he was one of America's greatest fisherman. He was a good friend. He was an outstanding Gunny. He was a man, who if he gave me the word, I would've followed him to Hell.
To me, he's still alive both in my mind and in the stories that I tell about him. I still see that furled brow and cigar. I can still hear his great Oklahoma drawl.
He's still the man that I've respected and admired for pretty near 35 years.
Story by Tom Correa
One of my favorite fisherman was my old Gunny. He found fishing wherever the Marine Corps stationed him. And if memory serves me right, yes he was not shy when it came to entering tournaments as well. Trout, Bass, Fly fishing, bank fishing, surf fishing, Marlin, Mahi Mahi, Blue Fin, Big Tuna in Hawaii, deep sea, off a pier, it never mattered to Gunnery Sergeant Jess Ferguson.
 |
| Jess Ferguson |
He once said he lived to fish. And although his love of the Marine Corps was first, his love of fishing was something that everyone knew about him.
All you had to do was mention that a fishing trip may be a possibility and he'll jump right on it. I learned to trout fish from my Gunny, when I was a young Sergeant.
It was back in 1976, after finishing my tour of Sea Duty, I reported in at Correctional Custody Facility for Instructor Duty. I was there a few months when Gunny Ferguson walked up to me, and in his Oklahoma drawl asked me, "Cor-rare, do you fish?"
He always called me "Cor-rare".
I remember telling him that, "as a boy in Hawaii, I used to enjoy surf fishing especially with my grandfather."
Then he asked, "Do you trout fish?"
"No, I don't trout fish." I said with a tone that he read as not being very friendly to the notion.
"Why not?" he asked looking me right in the eyes.
"Because, when I first came to California, I went fishing with a friend from school. After we got our lines in the water, I asked him a question and he said that we shouldn't talk because that fish will hear us. Imagine that! So for the next 3 hours, other than getting a nibble now and then, it bored me to death!" I said while trying to make the Gunny understand how bad an experience it was.
"It sounds like you went trout fishing with the wrong people." he replied.
"Maybe but ..." then he cut me off .
"No maybes about it, Cor-rare! And this Saturday you are off duty and will go fishing at KC Springs with my family and Staff Sergeant Kelly. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."
I had all week to get my pole and setup a tackle box with everything that I'd need. And on Saturday, well I was getting in my old '57 Chevy when Staff Sergeant Kelly asked me to ride with him.
Now that was good since I didn't really know where KC Springs was on Camp Pendleton, but it was bad since I wouldn't have my own car if in case I was bored and wanted to leave.
Well it was a typical sunny day, not a lot of wind, and the Gunny helped me setting up my leaders. As we walked the few feet to the lake. The Gunny's wife and kids sat on the tailgate of their station wagon.
It looked sort of strange, but I didn't know if this is what they actually did when they went with him fishing.
The Gunny was the first to cast out, then Kelly and then me. After we said down on the bank, I asked the Gunny, " so you think ...."
He then moved a finger to his lips and said, "Shhhhhh! They hear you!"
Just then Kelly got a bite and jumped up and screamed like a madman. I looked over at the gunny and said, "Hey, what about Kelly?"
And yes, the Gunny just started laughing.
His wife and kids started laughing as well. Then the kids started running around and playing. His wife brought us beers and sandwiches. And the three of us ended up catching quite a few fish that day.
It was a great day, and a great time. And yes, that was when I fell in love with trout fishing. In fact that's why my old '57 Chevy started smelling more and more like a fish wagon right after that.
A few days latter back at Correction Custody, Sergeant Peterson asked how I enjoyed going fishing with the Gunny? I remember being in sort of a hurry that day, and all I said was that "it was fine."
Well unknown to me, the Gunny just happened to have walked up and was standing behind me when he heard me say that "it was fine." Then just as I was leaving to rejoin my Platoon, I heard "Cor-rare, meet me in my office in 20 minutes."
Twenty minutes later, I was at his office. We when through a few ideas for new classes, and then he popped a cigar in his mouth. We both liked White Owl Miniatures those days. He then looked at me and said, "Did you have a good time the other day?"
I can still remember his furled brow and him rolling that cigar from on side of his mouth to another as he waited for my response. He knew that I wasn't the most sociable person those days, and in fact was sort of a lone wolf other than my friendship with Corporal Mathis who worked pretty closely with me.
"You bet I did Gunny. In fact I went up there by myself the next day."
"Well that's not what it sounded like when Peterson asked you if you did. You know it is OK to say it was fun. And you know the secret of a good fish story don't you?"
"What is it?" I asked, waiting for him to hit me with some of his sage wisdom. And then it happened, as always, he didn't disappoint me.
He smiled and said, "Cor-rare, telling a good fish story doesn't mean you make the fish bigger. What you do is keep the fish the same size, but you make the catching sound better."
It's something that I've always tried to keep in mind my whole life. I remember that it was during the summer in 1977 that Gunny Ferguson's name appeared on the First Sergeant Selectee List.
I was in the middle of re-enlisting when I had stopped the re-enlistment process.
Actually it was a few weeks before I left the Marine Corps the first time, that he and I got together and talked my leaving.
We definitely had a few beers that night. He didn't know if he wanted to take the promotion to First Sergeant, because it meant he'd have to sign up for another two years. I remember him telling me that he was always in my corner and that he backed me as an Instructor.
He went on to say that he thought that I should re-enlist, but understood why I was leaving the Corps. Later that night, I remember how he wanted me to turn on the Fire Alarm at my barracks to roust everyone out of bed.
He said if we got caught we could tell them that it was a drill to check on fire safety procedures. But as I was walking away to pull the alarm, he stopped me and laughted that we may want to rethink that action.
So we had another beer. And yes, he said that I was making a mistake by getting out and tried to get me to re-enlist that night.
Throughout my life, I look back on the only big mistake that I've ever made as being my leaving the Corps that year. I was leaving the one thing in the world that I loved doing. Being a Marine meant everything to me.
The reason was because my father was diagnosed with cancer. It was only after I got out that my dad's doctors admitted to making a mistake about my dad's diagnosis. It wasn't long after that that I re-enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserves. It was a great feeling to be home again.
Just a few days ago, I decided to write this story about Jess Ferguson. Then I had the curious thought as to whether or not I'd be able to find him using Google. I typed in his name and remembered that he was a First Sergeant after I left that first time.
To my amazement, I found him. He was living in Modall, North Dakota. He passed away in 2009 at the age of 72.
So who is Gunny Ferguson? Well, in my book, he was one of America's greatest fisherman. He was a good friend. He was an outstanding Gunny. He was a man, who if he gave me the word, I would've followed him to Hell.
To me, he's still alive both in my mind and in the stories that I tell about him. I still see that furled brow and cigar. I can still hear his great Oklahoma drawl.
He's still the man that I've respected and admired for pretty near 35 years.
God knows he was a good man. And I know, he was a great Marine!
God Bless You Gunny! Semper Fi!
Story by Tom Correa
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