Sent to Nick Orton: Ammo guard detail at Camp Devil Dog. We were all told the stories of the ghosts haunting the forest edge where the obstacle course was, about how you don’t tell the wendigo in the training area your name, or play catch with the thing at Gate 1, where the “Night Lady” would visit younger sentries thinking they were her children to Marines who were nabbed by “the spooks” and spent the rest of their life in the psych ward of the Lejeune Hospital.
On the second coldest night of my life, I was attempting to sleep on the rack when my platoon sergeant decided to interrupt.
“PFC [ANON] you awake?”
“If you need me to be awake Staff Sergeant.”
“Good, go with this screw up to the ammo point, I’ll be back to get you at 0200.”
I can’t remember the other Marine’s name but I do remember he had a shrill voice and was a talkative, pubescent idiot. I just wanted to suffer in silence standing there and rotating our rounds along each fifty-foot side of our guard shack.
I looked at my Timex and it was around 0045 when the fog started coming in from the edge of the tree line surrounding the field in front of us. It was about the size of a baseball field and we were on the left foul line. It was thick fog and suddenly I felt very chilled.
I thought nothing of it because it was December in North Carolina, but that random fog kept coming towards us. Something just didn’t feel right. By the time we radio checked in the fog was over us waist high and we couldn’t see our feet.
At 0110 the other guy finally stopped yapping. I thought this was good, no more annoying sounds just cold. I looked over and he was staring through the rifle optic with his mouth open. Then I saw something move on the inside of the tree line, something that was above the fog. I thought I was just getting hypothermic. I radioed in that we had an issue with an unidentified floating object.
I asked my battle buddy: “You brought the silver bullets, right?” He looked terrified. I started laughing uncontrollably at how crazy he looked until I heard laughter come from the fog.
A ghostly apparition started bounding towards us. Doing a left, right, left, jump every ten meters. As if we were on supernatural or ghostbusters this thing started talking to us, whispering, and cooing at us that almost seemed to echo.
Beckoning to us, “come here my little children. Mommy’s back. Don’t be shy you’ve nothing to fear. It’s your mommy.” It carried on over and over and over each; and jump it started over louder.
The fog was getting denser and deeper, almost up to our stomachs. I shouldered my rifle, following this figure through the optic. It was in a plaid farm dress stained in various splotches. I lowered my M16 because I couldn’t track it fast enough. I didn’t need my optic anymore it was barely fifty meters from us.
The face was normal. It was almost pretty. Until it grew closer and it began to grow uglier with each jump. It was a hideous! A head so caved in on one side it could fit a fist. The fog went from grey to a bluish hue. The voice stopped sounding audible, rasps and screeching replaced the melody calling for us.
My battle was in the fetal position sobbing when it got maybe fifteen feet from us. Then an engine brake came out of nowhere and high beams filled the area. A silver F150 long bed drifted through the bitch and she vanished into thin air! It seemed like another hour passed to get my partner into the truck bed to take him to quarters so Doc could look at him. After explaining what happened to the sergeant of the guard, he told me I didn’t have to do anymore shifts for the rest of training (so I guess that was worth it). Que me standing another ammo guard shift: that promise was as empty as the field was when we left. Wish I could tell you what we saw, but I can’t.
Anonymous US Marine
Camp Lejeune, NC is a hub for Marines across the force. Chances are Marines have attended Marine Combat Training (MCT) at Camp Devil Dog or the Infantry Training Battalion (ITB) at Camp Geiger. Both courses have their similarities, but are drastically different (MCT trains POGs, ITB trains grunts). But they both have this in common: a ghostly force that has haunted Marines in the woods of North Carolina. In fact, the stories that come out of Devil Dog and Geiger are centered around one, simple, theme: the phantom of a ghostly woman in white.
Many Marines have reported seeing a ghostly woman in the woods of Lejeune. She is a local legend, known by trainees and cadre alike. Sometimes she’s at a distance watching from the wood line or wandering close to Marines on duty.
Sometimes she’s right in your face. Staring. Marines report that she will walk right up to the fighting position, curiously looking at the terrified recruit in the hole. Sometimes you hear a young voice in the wood line: screams, crying, or calls for help. The cadre will suggest you best ignore them, that’s just her trying to lure you away. In fact they seem well aware of her. Terrifying and mysterious, she has haunted the training area and Marines for decades.
Depending on the stories: she can appear as a full-grown woman, a teenager, or a little girl. Or such as the story in the very beginning, a demonic creature of a grotesque nature.
Curiously, if you venture down the road from Camp Devil Dog, about two miles, you will come across Verona Loop National Cemetery. Venture inside and walk to the very edges of the cemetery, the very edges that border the Camp Devil Dog training area. There you will find a lonely grave marker. It simply bears the name: No. 16 Mollie Humphries. Not much is known about Mollie, who she was or how she met her end. But what is known is that she died at a young age, gone too soon. Maybe she walks among the living still, some Marines think so. So next time you are near the Camp Lejeune Area, stop by Verona Loop National Cemetery, and leave some flowers on Mollie’s grave.
“I have a pretty spooky image that was allegedly taken by a trail camera on Camp Lejeune. Rumor has it that some Marines set it up due to strange encounters the had our there. There is a dilapidated cabin and cross in the woods near where this was supposedly taken. I know people who have heard voices in that area and I have experienced my compass freely spinning there on more than one occasion.
This image was taken in the GSRA, the Greater Sandy Run Area. It’s also known as Davis Airfield. It’s the farthest training area from main side post. Mostly land navigation and field craft training areas. It’s across Highway 17 and right across from Verona Loop near Holly Ridge.”
Anonymous US Marine
“Nick” of Tales From The Grid Square is an active-duty member of the US Army with a long-standing interest in the paranormal. Several of his own experiences and experiences of his peers inspired him to start “Tales From The Grid Square” on Instagram where he collects and documents the paranormal encounters of military service members. You can share your own stories to the Instagram Account @Tales_From_The_Gridsquare or email: TalesFromTheGridsquare@gmail.com. Tales From The Grid Square Vol 1 and Vol 2 are collections of such stories submitted and available on Amazon.
Tales From The Grid Square Vol 1: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09ZL9BQ1D
Tales From The Grid Square Vol 2: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C4819MW3
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