She was in Beaufort, S.C. during some of the same years I was. She was not in the Marine Corps though. She was a young child. It was her father that was a Marine. He flew those planes I worked on. He was in a different squadron. Separated by rank and unit, we would have never met. But, like me, where his squadron's airplanes went, he went.
And with that, here is her memory of the long ago.
When he was sent over to WESTPAC, he was concerned that with my age, he would be a bit of a stranger when he got back. So my mom would ship him children's books by the boxful along with blank tapes. He would record himself reading me the books and then send the boxes and completed tapes back so I could still have nightly stories with Dad. I still have the audio files...the conditions being what they were, a number of the stories were interrupted by "wait, someone's about to take off" and the roar of jet engines before he'd pick up the story again.