Monday - November 07, 2005

Keeping Faith

The 230th Marine Corps Birthday Ball
Saturday, November 5, 2005

Corporal Jim: Eight terrorists ambushed him in Fallujah as he was doing house-to-house search.. After being wounded, he got five with a grenade, then shot another before he lost consciousness.  His buddies finished the job for him. He has a titanium repaired jaw, part of his tongue gone, and wounds in five other places.  He’s ready to go back on active duty after his next three surgeries.  He walks tall and proud and looks strong. The puckered skin in the corner of his mouth makes him look better. 

Sgt. Mary: is dignified and serious. She wears her Purple Heart well. Her fellow Marines rocked the room with OOH-RAHS when she stood to be honored.

Staff Sgt. (Ret’d) Don: (a friend of mine) bears the distinction and honor of being called “A Crazy MoFo”.  You want him next to you in combat, but want to avoid him whilst out in town on Liberty.  He’s been up and down the ranks more than once. He says he made Sergeant in Korea, Corporal in Japan, and Private in San Francisco.  He has five Purple Hearts and two Silver Stars— I kid him that the second Silver Star was awarded during a recess in his General Courts Martial. In Vietnam, his squad captured a huge North Vietnamese artillery piece—the biggest in the war. They heard it fire, spotted it in a clearing, and charged while the crew was reloading. The reporter from “Stars & Stripes” asked him what went thru his mind when he first saw that enormous piece, and the crew spotted him and his squad? “Jesus H. CHRIST! I hope they don’t fire that motherf-----!” That quote didn’t make the newspaper.

Gunny (Gunnery Sergeant) Jim (Ret’d):  would have liked to have stayed in the Corps past his Twenty (years), but Jimmy “Blowjobs For Dictators” Carter decided to Give Peace A Chance, and started big military cutbacks.  Jim says he has ten kids. He still counts the one that died at age five.

Lance Corporal Ted: was waiting outside the women’s room holding a pair of gold glitter high heels.  I complimented him on how well they matched his Dress Blues.  He complimented me on how well the purse I was holding matched my eyes. I demonstrated how a Real Man carries his wife’s purse.  I asked him if he had yet purchased Feminine Hygiene supplies?  No, but he’s only engaged, not married.

Corporal Tom: was one of the first black men allowed to join the Marines in 1942.  We agreed that it was not due to a sudden guilty change of heart by the U.S. Government. He loves his Country and The Corps.

Lieutenant Colonel Jane: introduced herself, again, same as last year, “Hi, I’m Jane”. Yes, Ma’am, I ain’t never called a Marine Officer by her/his first name yet, and I ain’t gonna start today.

Frank Schaeffer (not a veteran) was our speaker. He was “a successful novelist living in “Volvo-driving, higher-education-worshipping” Massachusetts. He had a son who graduated from Georgetown and a daughter who graduated from New York University. Then his youngest child, straight out of high school, decided to join the U.S. Marine Corps.” Parents visiting the private school administration wanted to know what they had done wrong. Read his book: “Keeping Faith: A Father-Son Story About Love and the United States Marine Corps”.

There was, of course, the traditional “Cockroach Dance” —done to the tune of “Wipeout”—Surfaris, 1962 . Male Marines only—and for good reason.  You get in a large circle, dance / clap your hands, then when the staccato drum solo starts, everyone flops on his back and kicks his legs in the air like a overturned cockroach.  The DJ pronounced it the coolest thing he’d ever seen.

Our speaker said the Marine Corps is “the Bank” where values of Duty, Honor, Country are saved and preserved during times like ours.  I remembered how the monasteries copied and preserved the works of Western Civilization during the Dark Ages.

Some of us older guys were the worse for wear and age.  Everyone stood at Attention tall and proud during the presenting of the Colors, the National Anthem, and The Marine Corps Hymn.

Each group of Marines from different Wars (NOT conflicts NOT police actions) were asked to stand and be honored.  And they were honored.  There were only three from WW2.

There was single table and chair, left empty, for those who have gone before. When I was in The Corps, Sergeants didn’t hug each other.  Our loss.

Most people rented rooms at the hotel where the Birthday Bash was held.  Just as well, because I saw a lot of foolin’ around on the dance floor during the slow numbers.  Only the brave deserve the fair.

Presidents had better think long and hard before sending these men and women to die.  “Getting Wasted” (greased, blown away, KIA) had damn well better remain a metaphor.

I cried, but I feel ever so much better.  I always do, this time of year. Where do we get men like these?  How do we deserve women like these? 

Posted by Oink     on 11/07/2005 at 08:00 AM   
Filed Under: • Military • War-Stories •  
• Comments (57) • Trackbacks(0)  Permalink •  

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