Face of Defense: Marine on Faith, Family and the Silent Drill Platoon

Marine Corps Gunnery Sgt. Zackary Cox stands at the edge of the parade deck at Marine Barracks Washington, watching rifles spin through the air in perfect arcs. The Marines of the U.S. Marine Corps Silent Drill Platoon move as one, every step measured and every motion deliberate.  

To the public, their precision appears effortless. To Cox, it is the result of exhaustion, repetition and a refusal to settle for “good enough.” 

“When you watch the shows, you see perfection,” Cox said. “But to these Marines, being perfect isn’t perfect. They’ll drill one mistake until it’s gone. That discipline, that mindset, that’s what sets them apart.”

Marine Corps Gunnery Sgt. Zackary Cox

Job: Platoon Sergeant

Stationed: Marine Barracks Washington

Unit: U.S. Marine Corps Silent Drill Platoon

Hometown: San Bernardino, Calif.

Cox paused for a moment with his eyes fixed on the Marines crossing the deck. “It’s humbling,” he said. “These Marines live this life. They carry the weight of representing the Marine Corps every single time they step out there.”  Roots of Service 

Unlike many Marines, Cox didn’t grow up in a long line of military service. His reasons for joining were personal. Raised in a large family without a steady father figure, he felt a need to step up for his younger brothers. 

“I wanted to be more than just a big brother,” he said with a smile. “I wanted to be someone they could actually look up to.” 

That sense of responsibility deepened when he and his wife, Iris, started their own family and welcomed three sons. 

“There was a point where I thought about getting out,” Cox admitted. “But fatherhood changes things. The Marine Corps wasn’t just a career path anymore. It became the best way I could provide stability for my wife and kids. It was the right choice for all of us.” 

Throughout his career, Cox has drawn inspiration from leaders who left a lasting mark. Marine Corps Sgt. Maj. Sean Blue was one of the first. What began as a professional relationship developed into something closer to family. 

“He’s like the older brother or father figure I never had,” Cox said. “He gave me patience, something I didn’t have as a young sergeant. He taught me to slow down and see the big picture.” 

Cox credits his wife for keeping him grounded and Marine Corps 1st Sgt. Mia Moffett for reminding him that professionalism and joy can coexist. 

“She taught me you can have fun while still doing your job right,” he said. “That stuck with me. Sometimes Marines forget to breathe.” 

Faith, he said, has carried him through it all. “I’m a God-fearing man,” Cox said quietly. “Without Him, I wouldn’t be where I am today. He lays the path. My job is to walk it.” 

The Humanity Behind Precision 

By the time Cox arrived at the Silent Drill Platoon, he had served as a drill instructor, water survival instructor, force fitness instructor and infantry leader. None of it, he said, fully prepared him for this role. 

“You can hear stories, talk to the Marines who did the job before you,” Cox said. “But nothing prepares you for the grind until you’re standing there with them. It’s like a whole different world inside the Marine Corps.” 

The Silent Drill Platoon, known for its rifle drill precision without verbal cadence or commands, serves as one of the Corps’ most visible symbols of discipline. Bearing is everything, and mistakes are rarely tolerated. Yet, Cox said, what the public doesn’t always see is the humanity behind the precision. 

He pointed to Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Avery Nix as an example. When Nix first arrived, he wasn’t part of the elite “Marching Twenty-Four,” the core performers of the platoon. However, through persistence and discipline, he earned his place. 

“Now, he’s on the deck, and he embodies what this platoon is about,” Cox said. “That drive, that refusal to give up, watching him grow has been one of the best parts of this job.” 

Pride, Every Single Time 

Cox initially turned down the opportunity to join the Silent Drill Platoon. When Marine Corps 1st Sgt. Brandon Pizano first suggested it, Cox thought staying with his infantry unit would be better for his career. But Pizano persisted, calling him repeatedly until Cox reconsidered. 

The selection call came unexpectedly while Cox was bowling in Okinawa, Japan. On the other end of the line was Marine Corps Sgt. Maj. Jimmy Richard from Marine Barracks Washington.

“He asked me who I’d been talking to, and why I wanted the billet,” Cox said. “Then he told me I’d been selected. I was speechless. That moment will always stay with me.” 

Being the platoon sergeant for one of the Marine Corps’ most visible units comes with pressure, but Cox describes it as a different kind of weight than in the fleet. 

“With an infantry platoon, maybe five percent of the time is calm,” he said. “Here, it’s closer to half. The Marines are so disciplined and self-driven that I’ve been able to find peace here in a way I didn’t expect.” 

Still, the emotions run high every time the platoon performs. Cox compared the feeling to watching his sons play sports. 

“When my son scored his first goal, I felt this rush of pride,” he said. “That’s exactly what I feel when I see these Marines perform, every single time. It never gets old.” 

Even if the performance misses the perfect standard the platoon trains to, Cox said the Marines handle it with bearing and professionalism. During a performance in Atlanta, one Marine dropped his rifle mid-routine. 

“To the audience, it looked like part of the show,” Cox said. “That’s how much control they have. They can make an error look intentional. That’s professionalism.” 

Cox doesn’t dwell on legacy in terms of rank or position. For him, leadership comes down to one simple thing: caring. 

“Years from now, I just want the Marines I served with to say Gunnery Sgt. Cox was humble, that he cared,” he said with pride. “Not just about their careers, but about them as people.” 

That kind of leadership, he believes, lasts beyond service.

“At the end of the day, I want them to be good people,” Cox said. “Good people make good Marines, and good Marines make the Corps stronger. If I’ve done my part to push them in that direction, then I’ve done my job.” 

As he looks across the parade deck, watching the rifles rise and fall under the spotlight, Cox smiles. 

“They’re the standard,” he said. “What they do is magical, and I’m just grateful I get the chance to be part of it.”