The clang of arms is heard, and phantoms glide,
Unhappy ghosts in troops by moonlight seen.
William Wordsworth
Encompassing more than 151,000 acres and sprawling over 246 square miles in Onslow County, Camp Lejeune Marine Corps Base is one of the most important military installations in the world. This massive complex originated as a training camp for the First Marine Division on an 11,000-acre tract in the middle of a sandy pine forest just three months before the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor. Originally known as New River Marine Base, it was renamed in late 1942 to honor Lieutenant General John Archer Lejeune (1867-1942), commander of the United States Marine Corps during World War I.
Today, the base stretches from its fourteen-mile Atlantic beachfront to Jacksonville, the seat of Onslow County, and beyond. Long considered the world’s most complete amphibious marine training base, Camp Lejeune boasts fifty-four live-fire ranges, eighty-nine maneuver areas, thirty-three gun positions, and twenty-five tactical landing zones. For more than sixty years, American fighting forces have put the military skills learned here to good use in every corner of the world and in every war the country has fought during that time.
Over the years, hundreds of thousands of marines have endured long days and nights of grueling training in the isolated forests, sand flats, and beaches of the enormous complex. No doubt, duty in this wilderness can do strange things to a young marine’s mind. Mysterious incidents have occurred within the deep recesses of Camp Lejeune. Two chilling stories recounted here offer a glimpse of the supernatural forces at work on the base.
On a cold November night in 1977, a platoon was on a training maneuver at Campsite 12 in one of the camp’s countless pine forests. Just after midnight, the commander ordered four members of the platoon to move forward as a reconnaissance patrol. The remainder of the marines would follow an hour later.
After proceeding approximately a half-mile in a single-file line, the men in the patrol stopped abruptly in their tracks. Billy Joe, the point man, gave a hand signal that he had observed troop movement ahead. Believing that they were now involved in a war game, the four marines spread out, assumed their ambush positions, and watched for the enemy. Fifteen long minutes passed before any further movement was detected. This time, they saw something in the trees and also heard voices. Cognizant that no other forces were supposed to be training in the area at the time, the perplexed marines radioed their lieutenant and reported the activity. He confirmed their understanding that no other platoons were assigned to the locality. Then he ordered the four men to observe everything they could and to report their findings.
In order to determine the identity of the intruders, the patrol moved as close as possible without being detected. From their hiding spot, the four marines watched in disbelief. Before their very eyes, a large group of blue-coated Union soldiers went about the business of a Civil War campsite. Officers and men discussed the day’s military operations against the Confederates while sentries did guard duty. Some of the guards passed within inches of the stunned marines. Smoke from cooking food wafted to the modern warriors as they took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the campsite of their counterparts from a different time and place. After an hour or so, the Yankee soldiers packed up and disappeared into the night. Soon after that, the marines radioed that all was clear. They were shortly joined by the remainder of the platoon. For fear of incurring the ridicule of their comrades and the wrath of their lieutenant, none of the four mentioned the bizarre events of the night.
Did four young marines on a routine reconnaissance patrol at Camp Lejeune suffer mass hallucination on a chilly night in late 1977? Maybe. But perhaps they saw a replay of the history that was written at the same spot 115 years earlier. More than two hundred soldiers of the 103rd New York camped in and around the Onslow County farm of Thomas Gillott in 1862.
Our second tale begins far away from Camp Lejeune. Bob, a member of the United States Marine Corps, was assigned to duty in London, England. During his free time, Bob spent pleasurable hours in historic Hyde Park, located near his quarters. On one occasion while he was sitting on a park bench, a man who looked to be about seventy years old asked if he might take a seat. Bob smiled and nodded.
Although the stranger possessed a pleasant manner, his physical appearance was suspect: he had shoulder-length gray hair; he wore a threadbare overcoat; and his feet were without shoes. Bob initially thought that the fellow was a drunk or a vagrant, but after they struck up a warm conversation, the marine was drawn to the man’s deep, calming voice. He told Bob about the family he once had, the son he had left behind, and the places he had visited.
Suddenly, the old man stopped talking. When he spoke up again, it was to ask Bob for some spare change. As the stranger put it, he needed the money for the long journey upon which he was about to embark. Bob was only too happy to oblige him. In addition, he promised to buy the shoeless man some footwear.
As Bob reached into his pocket for some coins, his nameless friend put a hand on the marine’s arm. Tears were rolling down the man’s wrinkled face. Bob had to turn his head because he, too, was crying. Then he heard that soothing voice again: “There is no need to do this for me, Bobby. Your kindness is enough. We will meet again.” Shocked by his words, Bob turned to look at the man, but he was nowhere to be found.
During the entire conversation, Bob had never once mentioned his name. Nor did he wear his name anywhere on his clothing. Even stranger was the fact that, as a child in Richmond, Virginia, he had been called Bobby by almost everyone, but most particularly by his father, who had died when the boy was six years old.
More than two years had passed since the odd encounter in Hyde Park when Bob found himself assigned to the First Battalion of the Sixth Marines at Camp Lejeune. While on maneuvers one day, Bob was shaving at his campsite in the base’s wilderness. Nailed on a tree beside his shaving mirror was a picture of Mary Ann Mobley, an entertainer and former Miss America. Bob took the pinup with him everywhere he went.
There was absolutely no wind that day at the campsite, but the picture somehow blew off the tree. Bob stooped, picked it up, and rehung it. Again it fell, and again Bob stooped for it. Just as he prepared to stand up, he felt a gentle touch on his arm and heard a vaguely familiar voice call out, “Bobby!” Bob froze in his crouched position.
At that exact moment, an errant bullet fired from an M-l rifle smashed into Bob’s shaving mirror. Badly shaken but unhurt, the lucky marine hurried back to his tent to contemplate what had just transpired. Out of the blue, it came to him. The voice that had saved his life was that of the old man on the bench in Hyde Park. But who was it? Was it an angel? Bob knew—it was the ghost of his father.
Should you care to see Camp Lejeune, NC 172 will take you on a seventeen-mile course through the base that offers views of some of the vast wilderness where marines are trained for combat. Buried deep within these forests are some of the nation’s greatest military secrets—and some of North Carolina’s greatest supernatural mysteries as well.