ROADTROOPER63
09-04-06, 07:32 PM
It was the last deployment of our six month cruise in the Mediterranean. We were in the desert of Israel. I remember thinking many times that my 5-ton may well have taken me places that Jesus walked. This deployment had taken me to many major battlefields of WWII. The history enveloped me. I was told by the SSgt. That is was time to police call. Cpl, he said, form up your Marines, we are going to do a police call.
I was very proud of being an NCO; I had worked very hard to be a good one too. I came in the corps as a Private, got promoted to PFC, then Meritorious promotions to Lcpl and Cpl. I was proud, I won a Navy Achievement medal as a Lance Cooly. I had the highest proficiency and conduct marks of the MEU at the time. I had been a Cpl for over two years. Not a blemish on my record. Due to the awesome job my section had done with our duties, I was written up for a Navy Commendation. I was told by the Major that I had maintained equipment readiness far superior to any other peacetime MEU. My warrant for Sergeant was on admins desk. Two more weeks, I would be a Sergeant! How would I be able to get my uniforms ready in time for getting off that boat? I wanted so badly for my Dad to see me in that uniform with those three stripes on it!
James was a horrible Marine and a horrible NCO. No Marines even paid him any mind. James was bitter. James slipped through the cracks and got promoted not because of Merit, but because of a promotional system with flaws. Cutting scores and locked MOS’s. His MOS was wide open and he had no competition. James was always quick to start trouble and he was not doing well on a boat for six months. James was a racist and was quick to pull the race card when he did not get what he wanted. James was still living off of the sympathy from the hard ships his ancient ancestors went through in the slave days. James had no right to do this. James had everything given to him; he endured no hardship that I could see. It was frustrating for me and the younger Marines to see this piece of crap even got promoted in the first place. James always let the junior Marines know he was a Corporal. He was unfair and always told them to do things, you know that he would never do. James led from the rear. James always took full advantage of the privileges of being an NCO. James rubbed in the faces of the junior Marines, his status as NCO. James, with enough rope, would soon hang himself.
About one month into the float, James got into a fist-fight with a Junior Marine. This was all the Senior staff needed to teach James a lesson. James was summoned to Bn. Office hours. James was reduced to Lcpl. Finally! Justice! James had been held accountable for all of his mean spirited ways!
James didn’t waste any time. James, instead of taking a long look in the mirror, decided to play the only card he knew worked. The Race Card. Instead of taking personal responsibility and being true to himself, James instead decided to scream Racism. Only because James was black, he was being persecuted for his skin color. Poor James, the man is trying to keep him down again.
Well, James was partially right. The mere perception that the good Lt. Colonel was partial and prejudiced scared him. You see, Lt. Colonel Regnair (made up name) had ambitions. He was not going to have this purported racial incident tarnish his race to the top. The rank was scrambling to make sure that the paper trail they had on James showed that their punishment including reduction in rank, appeared fair and justified.
Israel was a strangely beautiful country. I often wondered how these Israelis lived in such a dangerous society. These people were always on guard, waiting for the next attack from the terrorists. I remember seeing the old Russian tank hulls from the Egyptian army that tried to attack Israel. They littered the 20 year old battlefield. As one Israeli soldier put it, "We leave these burnt out tanks here to remind the Arabs the consequences of trying to attack us again." How hard core and tough the IDF was!
I remember looking to my left and right and marveling on how big the MEU was. All the Marines were on line and chatter of going home to N.C. dominated the whispered conversations. The command to begin the Police call had begun. There was so much trash on the ground. We all knew that some other unit failed to do their own police call and we were picking up old trash. We cared not, we were going home. A wash down in Rota Spain and then it was 21 long days until we would be home!
Lcpl. Lie-ett was a piece of crap. He would never get past Lcpl. He had a bad attitude and hated authority. Lcpl. Lie-ett was a bad operator and had poor pro and cons. Lcpl Lie-ett wore wrinkled cammies and tilted the hat to the side on purpose. I could not stand the fact that this chump wore the same uniform as I. Lcpl. Lie-ett surrounded himself with other hoodlum Marines. I guess it made him feel better about his failure as a real Marine. Lcpl. Lie-ett was holding the GI black trash bag during police call. God, there was so much com-wire and MRE paper on the ground. But as soon as we could get it all up, we would convoy back to Haifa and get on the boat.
I picked up some trash and tried to put it in Lcpl. Lie-etts bag. Lie-ett jerked the bag away and stated “ Naw Dawg, Dat don’t go in dis bag.” Lie-ett and his entourage of fellow hoodlums laughed lazily, very proud of his disrespect to an NCO and to the uniform they wore. The laughs, continued as the group walked on with limps, which reminded me of how a two-bit pimp walked with his cane in all the 70’s movies. I was disgusted in the way I had just been disrespected and as they walked away laughing with their unbloused boots and crooked covers, limping……..my ears got hot.
I confronted Lie-ett. I said Lie-ett, don’t start your bull**** again. We are all going home after this. Just do your damn job and save this ghetto crap for when you go home on leave. Lcpl. Lie-ett grabbed his rifle off of his shoulder, through down the trash bag and handed the rifle to his hoodlum cohort. Lie-ett got breast to breast with me. I remember all the chicken-****s that used to do that in middle school, they would dance around chest to chest like *******s, neither with enough nuts to throw the first lick.
I will not lie, I wanted to beat Lie-ett’s ass. He was such a scrawny worm, it would not take long to snatch a bone out of his ass and beat him with it. But Lie-ett knew just what buttons to press and how far he could go straddling that fence. There were so many shiny collars in that desert; I knew that whipping Lie-ett’s ass would only get me in deep trouble. I took the high-ground and pushed Lie-ett away from my chest. Lie-ett was in true George Jefferson form, screaming, cursing and causing a big scene. I commanded Lie-ett to pick up his garbage bag and continue the police call. Out of nowhere, Lie-ett swung and caught me square in the mouth. It was a good shot I remember thinking as I tasted my own blood in my mouth. That son-of-a-*****!, I wanted to kill him. In milliseconds I remembered who I was and who was watching and I bottled my anger. I grabbed Lie-ett’s giblet 125 pound ass and slung him to the ground. I got on top of him, flipped him to his stomach and jerked his spaghetti-like arms behind his back as he screamed like a 3 year old. I commanded one of Lie-etts hoodlum buddies to go get the Staff Sergeant. I was so ****ed I wanted to beat Lie-ett’s head into the sand. I kept myself together knowing I would be in a bind if I beat on him. I never threw a retaliatory blow. I just held his punk ass down so he could not hit me again. A Minute later, the Staff Sergeant arrived and pulled us apart. I went to the water bull to clean my mouth off. I remember how humiliated I felt by getting punched by such wormy bastard and not doing anything about it. This was so contrary to my eye for and eye upbringing. My temper had gotten me into trouble when I was a kid and I knew if I would have beat his ass, I would have been in trouble. I had a lot to lose. Remember, this was at a time when the Marine Corps had gone soft. It was a time when there were stress cards for the recruits. If the recruit felt like he was being picked on, he could hold up the stress card and the DI would have to give him a break. All the hard core Vietnam vets had left the drill field and retired. MCRD was now run by DI’s that had seen very little brief or absolutely no combat. The Marine Corps had grown touchy-feely. I remember the day that the 1st Sergeant got all the NICO’s together and told us we could no longer make our Marines do push ups or motivational exercises for minor infractions. The leadership wanted us to write up the Marines instead. Long gone were the days of barracks justice, where problems could be solved behind the barracks. Now we were creating paper trails on other-wise good Marines who just had a hiccup. This paper trail would follow them throughout their career and we NCO’s hated it.
As I washed the blood and embarrassment away at the water bull, The Staff Sergeant came to me and said that Lt. Mule wanted to see me. Lt. Mule was a nerdy guy who played phony tough, but I got to know him and considered him a quasi-friend…….ever mindful of the fraternization policy of the Marine Corps.
I went up to Lt. Mule and his face was red. Non-formally, I approached him and asked him if he wanted to see me. Lt. Mule stated that I needed to REPORT to him. Oh ****, I see where this is going I said to myself as I did a rifle salute and reported as ordered, Sir! Lt. Mule said “what the hell did you do to Lie-ett? I attempted to explain the incident and was interrupted by Mule who informed me that I provoked Lie-ett. I felt much betrayed at this point. I had a lump in my throat. How was this being turned around on me? What the hell other option could I have taken? Should I have run after being punched and told on Lie-ett like an elementary school kid? What the hell?
Lt. Mule told me to write a statement. I wrote the statement and was hoping the other witnesses were too. Unfortunately I found out later that the witnesses were none-other than Lie-etts posse and a Lt. Colonel that saw the incident from 300 meters away. Me on top of Lie-ett 300 meters away makes me the aggressor in perception.
Several days later on ship, I could here the chit-chat whispered among Marines in the berthing area. It ranged from me getting busted down to firewatch. I was sick to my stomach. How had such a bull**** incident caused so much drama? I remember how betrayed I felt when I overheard the other NCO’s in my berthing area fighting over who would get my rack when I got busted down to Lcpl.
I continued to do my job, even though the suspense of what was going to happen to me was killing me, I still did my best and kept my bearing. I remember being near the officer’s staterooms updating a chart outside of Lt. Mules hatch. Major Red came out of the head with a towel wrapped around his waist. The Major said “Hey Corporal!, how’s it going?” I said pretty good, sir, just a little nervous over what is going to happen to me.
Major Red said “Don’t you worry about all that; I’m going to get the 1st Sergeant to handle that.” I translated that to mean, don’t worry, you may get some fire watch and duty NCO for a while, but that’s it. I was so relieved; I did not know what to do! I had to tell somebody the good news! I had some pep in my step and I wanted to whistle! As I climbed down the ladder well, I saw Staff Sergeant Snake. SSgt. Snake was my section chief. Snake had recently come to our unit in lieu of an inappropriate sexual relationship with a PFC at his old unit. SSgt Snake had some career rebuilding to do, and used what I was about to tell him to make good with Lt. Mule.
SSgt. Snake said “have you heard anything on your deal?” I was so excited, I told him of the conversation I had just had with Major Red. I’m guessing that after that, SSgt. Snake went straight to Lt. Mule. Now, from what I can figure out, Lt. Mule had been appointed or appointed himself as the “prosecuting attorney” for my heinous crime. For a few days, I saw Lt. Mule milling around the berthing areas, which he had never done before. I had a few buddies tell me that Lt. Mule was asking them what all I had said to them about the incident. The next day, Lt. Mule approached me and with a devious smirk, told me “You are to report to Major Red’s stateroom at 1500 hours.
I frantically began to prepare myself. Let’s get this over with. I pressed out my utilities, starched my cover, busted out the new pair of black chevrons for my uniform, shined up the jungle boots to a mirror-like finish. At 14:45 hours I stood at parade rest at Major Red’s hatch. Every once in a while peeking down at the shine on my boots, going over what I would say in my head. Major Red walked in his room, followed by the XO, followed by the 1st Sergeant and finally by Lt. Mule. To myself I said oh ****! Multiple witnesses in a meeting are never good. I’m fixing to get the green weenie. I sat in that hallway for over 30 minutes wondering when they would call me in and what would happen to me. Finally the silence was broken and I heard Major Red say “Cpl, enter.
I snapped and popped, Sir, Cpl. XXXX reporting as ordered Sir! They had set up the room like a typical interrogation room, this cannot be good. I was never allowed to cross the threshold of the stateroom. As I stood there at the position of attention, I was told by Major Red “perhaps you misunderstood me the other day when I told you I would have the 1st Sergeant handle this incident. What I meant was that I would have the 1St Sergeant conduct an investigation and then based on the evidence, I would decide whether this needs to go to battalion or not. Are we clear Cpl. XXXX? Yes Sir! I said. You are dismissed Cpl. I did an about face and slithered away. Dammit! What the hell was that? I am so screwed. This Mickey Mouse crap is going to Battalion and I am going to get hammered. I can’t request a court martial, because I am on a damn ship!
A week had passed and I had still not been told what was going on. It was miserable, the wondering. Finally I was told to report to Lt. Colonel Regnair’s State room for battalion office hours. I had already gathered character references ranging from Captains to MSGT’s to Warrant Officers. I was ready for this fight. I would explain to the Old Man what happened and he would see the truth as it was!............Bull****! I was convicted before I ever entered the room.
I entered Lt. Regnairs stateroom. There were the usuals….Major Red, XO, Lt. Mule, SSgt Snake, 1st Sgt.. The Old Man sat erect in his chair behind a desk. Stone-faced, Regnair read me the riot act. Lt. Colonel Regnair told me to tell him what happened. Halfway through my deposition, Lt. Regnair slammed his hand down on the desk and with a red face screamed “How dare you come into my God damned office and try to justify what you did like it was right! I think you are a hot-head and I have no room in my Marine Corps for hot-headed NCO’s ” To myself, I said what the hell?
Lt. Colonel Regnair asked Major Red, 1st Sgt, XO and Lt. Mule did they have anything to say on my behalf. Every one of those sheep stared at the floor and shook their heads in the negative. Lt. Colonel Regnair asked SSgt Snake if he had anything to say on my behalf as the section chief. SSGt. Snake stuttered and said “Uh, he’s a good worker.” What a prick! A good worker?, a recruit can be a good worker.
Lt. Colonel Reganair asks me ‘ Do you have anything to say on your own behalf prior to me issuing judgement? I said, Sir, I have several character references outside, if I may?
Lt. Colonel Regnair stated “That won’t be necessary.”
Cpl. XXXX, I subsequently reduce you to the rank of Lance Corporal, 30 days no pay due and 30 days restriction to quarters. You are dismissed.
****!.....I can not believe this. What the hell? The boat will be in Norfolk in 12 days, I was supposed to go on leave when we got back. My Mom and Dad will be waiting at CLNC for me and I have no way of communicating to them I am busted and will not be able to go home with them. I am so ashamed. How can I tell my Dad who was so proud of me that I just got busted down?
Lie-ett got busted too, but that doesn’t help me feel any better. I lost two ranks, Cpl. and the Sgt. Warrant that was on admins desk. I was to be promoted to Sgt. Two days later had this not come up. There was never any mention again of the Commendation medal that Major Red wrote me up for. How can you give a medal to a guy that just got busted?
We got onto LCU’s and hummed toward Onslow beach. Everyone was excited about reuniting with their kid’s, wife, parents etc. As was I, but I cringed at having to tell my proud Papa that I was a failure as a Marine and I got busted. Dad always stood by me and told me he knew I could do anything. All that mattered in my life at that time was for my family to be proud of me and it still does. As all the other Marines ran to hug their families, I spotted my Dad looking for me in the crowd. How would I tell him? I ran up to him and hugged him. Hey Boy! , he said, he looked so proud of me. I felt like such an ass. I told him I had something to tell him. He had not yet noticed the Lance Corporal Chevrons on my collar. The last letter he got from me indicated that I would soon be a Sergeant. He was so proud of me. We walked over to the side away from every one. My Mom had then joined us. I explained to both of them what I had done and Dad just looked at me and Oh well, I’m just glad you are home buddy. My Mom, once I explained to her that I could not go home with them and that I could only visit with them in the recreation room, became enraged. She said who told you that. I pointed to Major Red and the 1st Sergeant. Momma turned towards them, I said Momma, No!, please don’t say anything to them, it will just cause more trouble. Momma never heard me. Mom went over to them and to my horror she began to give them the biggest ass-chewing I had ever heard a man get. I was proud of Momma, but scared at what lie in wait for me once she left.
As I was putting away my gear, I saw a red-faced 1st Sergeant walking toward me like a man on a mission. Oh ****, I said to myself, I’m done. The 1st Sergeant, still unable to look me in the eye stared at the ground like a freshly scolded child and said. “ Uh XXXX, we decided that you have done enough time on restriction, go home and spend some time with your family.
I had three months left in the Corps on my enlistment when I got back from leave. When the career planner approached me about re-upping I asked him why they would want an old **** bag that got busted to re-up. He promised me Meritorious Cpl. On the spot and guaranteed Sgt. in 5 months. I pondered the offer, but thought to myself, what if I have 18 years on the job and I have another hiccup, I could lose everything over nothing. I respectfully declined his offer and decided to get out.
My last day was finally here. I had completed 4 honorable years and was going home. My last day coincided with a regimental Change of Command ceremony. I was no longer with the unit I was attached to with the MEU. I was with my real unit. People who really gave a crap about me and knew of my ethic. I figured that they would have me answer the phones at the company office during the ceremony. Usually after a change of command, they let the Marines have a 96 hour pass. Everyone usually gets off at noon after the ceremony. I had my U-haul packed and all my gear turned into supply. I was ready to beat feet.
Gunnery Sgt. Loyalty approached me and stated “Cpl. XXXX, (He as well as most of the rank at my unit still called me Corporal…….it meant a lot to me) Go to supply and draw some 782 gear, then go to the armory and get a rifle, you will be in this ceremony.
****!........I don’t want to be in this dumbass parade. It is my last day. It will take me hours to turn all that crap in once I am done. I had planned on being on the road by
13:00 hours. What an ass to make me do all this crap on my last day.
As I stood at parade rest feeling sorry for myself in the scorching July heat with the rest of the Regiment. All I could think about was getting home to Mommas good food and Fishing with Dad. I looked at the audience in front of us, Senators, Congressman, Generals, Full birds and wanted the long winded Old man to pass the Colors so I could go home. All of a sudden the Colonel said “before I pass the Colors to the incoming Commander, I would like to take a minute to recognize one of our Marines. I was saying to myself, great, let’s get this **** over with. I gotta go.
The Colonel then said “Cpl XXXX, Front and Center!” I could not move. We were so far away from the podium, I wasn’t sure I heard what I heard. After a few of my comrades hit me in the ribs and Gunny Loyalty says “ XXXX GET YOUR ASS UP THERE!, I put my rifle at port arms and ran up there. What a Jackass I must have looked like running 200 meters at port arms across that huge field. I reported with a rifle salute and the Colonel began speaking very nice career related things about me. I almost cried. He presented me with a plaque made by Gunny Wolf. I was so emotionally confused; I did not know what to do. I thought I had been done wrong by the Marines and they go and do something like this.
I turned all my gear in. I placed the plaque on my front seat and began to drive home. As I passed all the sights and sounds of Camp Lejeune I wondered what life would be like now. What would I do? Where would I work? Am I doing the right thing by getting out?
As I drove past the MP’s at the front gate, I teared up. Bull****, I cried. That was a long drive home. I always wondered if I made the right choice getting out. When I look at my Wife and kids, I know I made the right decision, as I may have never met my wife if I had stayed in the Marines. The Marines was my life at the time. I learned so much from the Marines. I will always be a Marine. Semper Fi !
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I was very proud of being an NCO; I had worked very hard to be a good one too. I came in the corps as a Private, got promoted to PFC, then Meritorious promotions to Lcpl and Cpl. I was proud, I won a Navy Achievement medal as a Lance Cooly. I had the highest proficiency and conduct marks of the MEU at the time. I had been a Cpl for over two years. Not a blemish on my record. Due to the awesome job my section had done with our duties, I was written up for a Navy Commendation. I was told by the Major that I had maintained equipment readiness far superior to any other peacetime MEU. My warrant for Sergeant was on admins desk. Two more weeks, I would be a Sergeant! How would I be able to get my uniforms ready in time for getting off that boat? I wanted so badly for my Dad to see me in that uniform with those three stripes on it!
James was a horrible Marine and a horrible NCO. No Marines even paid him any mind. James was bitter. James slipped through the cracks and got promoted not because of Merit, but because of a promotional system with flaws. Cutting scores and locked MOS’s. His MOS was wide open and he had no competition. James was always quick to start trouble and he was not doing well on a boat for six months. James was a racist and was quick to pull the race card when he did not get what he wanted. James was still living off of the sympathy from the hard ships his ancient ancestors went through in the slave days. James had no right to do this. James had everything given to him; he endured no hardship that I could see. It was frustrating for me and the younger Marines to see this piece of crap even got promoted in the first place. James always let the junior Marines know he was a Corporal. He was unfair and always told them to do things, you know that he would never do. James led from the rear. James always took full advantage of the privileges of being an NCO. James rubbed in the faces of the junior Marines, his status as NCO. James, with enough rope, would soon hang himself.
About one month into the float, James got into a fist-fight with a Junior Marine. This was all the Senior staff needed to teach James a lesson. James was summoned to Bn. Office hours. James was reduced to Lcpl. Finally! Justice! James had been held accountable for all of his mean spirited ways!
James didn’t waste any time. James, instead of taking a long look in the mirror, decided to play the only card he knew worked. The Race Card. Instead of taking personal responsibility and being true to himself, James instead decided to scream Racism. Only because James was black, he was being persecuted for his skin color. Poor James, the man is trying to keep him down again.
Well, James was partially right. The mere perception that the good Lt. Colonel was partial and prejudiced scared him. You see, Lt. Colonel Regnair (made up name) had ambitions. He was not going to have this purported racial incident tarnish his race to the top. The rank was scrambling to make sure that the paper trail they had on James showed that their punishment including reduction in rank, appeared fair and justified.
Israel was a strangely beautiful country. I often wondered how these Israelis lived in such a dangerous society. These people were always on guard, waiting for the next attack from the terrorists. I remember seeing the old Russian tank hulls from the Egyptian army that tried to attack Israel. They littered the 20 year old battlefield. As one Israeli soldier put it, "We leave these burnt out tanks here to remind the Arabs the consequences of trying to attack us again." How hard core and tough the IDF was!
I remember looking to my left and right and marveling on how big the MEU was. All the Marines were on line and chatter of going home to N.C. dominated the whispered conversations. The command to begin the Police call had begun. There was so much trash on the ground. We all knew that some other unit failed to do their own police call and we were picking up old trash. We cared not, we were going home. A wash down in Rota Spain and then it was 21 long days until we would be home!
Lcpl. Lie-ett was a piece of crap. He would never get past Lcpl. He had a bad attitude and hated authority. Lcpl. Lie-ett was a bad operator and had poor pro and cons. Lcpl Lie-ett wore wrinkled cammies and tilted the hat to the side on purpose. I could not stand the fact that this chump wore the same uniform as I. Lcpl. Lie-ett surrounded himself with other hoodlum Marines. I guess it made him feel better about his failure as a real Marine. Lcpl. Lie-ett was holding the GI black trash bag during police call. God, there was so much com-wire and MRE paper on the ground. But as soon as we could get it all up, we would convoy back to Haifa and get on the boat.
I picked up some trash and tried to put it in Lcpl. Lie-etts bag. Lie-ett jerked the bag away and stated “ Naw Dawg, Dat don’t go in dis bag.” Lie-ett and his entourage of fellow hoodlums laughed lazily, very proud of his disrespect to an NCO and to the uniform they wore. The laughs, continued as the group walked on with limps, which reminded me of how a two-bit pimp walked with his cane in all the 70’s movies. I was disgusted in the way I had just been disrespected and as they walked away laughing with their unbloused boots and crooked covers, limping……..my ears got hot.
I confronted Lie-ett. I said Lie-ett, don’t start your bull**** again. We are all going home after this. Just do your damn job and save this ghetto crap for when you go home on leave. Lcpl. Lie-ett grabbed his rifle off of his shoulder, through down the trash bag and handed the rifle to his hoodlum cohort. Lie-ett got breast to breast with me. I remember all the chicken-****s that used to do that in middle school, they would dance around chest to chest like *******s, neither with enough nuts to throw the first lick.
I will not lie, I wanted to beat Lie-ett’s ass. He was such a scrawny worm, it would not take long to snatch a bone out of his ass and beat him with it. But Lie-ett knew just what buttons to press and how far he could go straddling that fence. There were so many shiny collars in that desert; I knew that whipping Lie-ett’s ass would only get me in deep trouble. I took the high-ground and pushed Lie-ett away from my chest. Lie-ett was in true George Jefferson form, screaming, cursing and causing a big scene. I commanded Lie-ett to pick up his garbage bag and continue the police call. Out of nowhere, Lie-ett swung and caught me square in the mouth. It was a good shot I remember thinking as I tasted my own blood in my mouth. That son-of-a-*****!, I wanted to kill him. In milliseconds I remembered who I was and who was watching and I bottled my anger. I grabbed Lie-ett’s giblet 125 pound ass and slung him to the ground. I got on top of him, flipped him to his stomach and jerked his spaghetti-like arms behind his back as he screamed like a 3 year old. I commanded one of Lie-etts hoodlum buddies to go get the Staff Sergeant. I was so ****ed I wanted to beat Lie-ett’s head into the sand. I kept myself together knowing I would be in a bind if I beat on him. I never threw a retaliatory blow. I just held his punk ass down so he could not hit me again. A Minute later, the Staff Sergeant arrived and pulled us apart. I went to the water bull to clean my mouth off. I remember how humiliated I felt by getting punched by such wormy bastard and not doing anything about it. This was so contrary to my eye for and eye upbringing. My temper had gotten me into trouble when I was a kid and I knew if I would have beat his ass, I would have been in trouble. I had a lot to lose. Remember, this was at a time when the Marine Corps had gone soft. It was a time when there were stress cards for the recruits. If the recruit felt like he was being picked on, he could hold up the stress card and the DI would have to give him a break. All the hard core Vietnam vets had left the drill field and retired. MCRD was now run by DI’s that had seen very little brief or absolutely no combat. The Marine Corps had grown touchy-feely. I remember the day that the 1st Sergeant got all the NICO’s together and told us we could no longer make our Marines do push ups or motivational exercises for minor infractions. The leadership wanted us to write up the Marines instead. Long gone were the days of barracks justice, where problems could be solved behind the barracks. Now we were creating paper trails on other-wise good Marines who just had a hiccup. This paper trail would follow them throughout their career and we NCO’s hated it.
As I washed the blood and embarrassment away at the water bull, The Staff Sergeant came to me and said that Lt. Mule wanted to see me. Lt. Mule was a nerdy guy who played phony tough, but I got to know him and considered him a quasi-friend…….ever mindful of the fraternization policy of the Marine Corps.
I went up to Lt. Mule and his face was red. Non-formally, I approached him and asked him if he wanted to see me. Lt. Mule stated that I needed to REPORT to him. Oh ****, I see where this is going I said to myself as I did a rifle salute and reported as ordered, Sir! Lt. Mule said “what the hell did you do to Lie-ett? I attempted to explain the incident and was interrupted by Mule who informed me that I provoked Lie-ett. I felt much betrayed at this point. I had a lump in my throat. How was this being turned around on me? What the hell other option could I have taken? Should I have run after being punched and told on Lie-ett like an elementary school kid? What the hell?
Lt. Mule told me to write a statement. I wrote the statement and was hoping the other witnesses were too. Unfortunately I found out later that the witnesses were none-other than Lie-etts posse and a Lt. Colonel that saw the incident from 300 meters away. Me on top of Lie-ett 300 meters away makes me the aggressor in perception.
Several days later on ship, I could here the chit-chat whispered among Marines in the berthing area. It ranged from me getting busted down to firewatch. I was sick to my stomach. How had such a bull**** incident caused so much drama? I remember how betrayed I felt when I overheard the other NCO’s in my berthing area fighting over who would get my rack when I got busted down to Lcpl.
I continued to do my job, even though the suspense of what was going to happen to me was killing me, I still did my best and kept my bearing. I remember being near the officer’s staterooms updating a chart outside of Lt. Mules hatch. Major Red came out of the head with a towel wrapped around his waist. The Major said “Hey Corporal!, how’s it going?” I said pretty good, sir, just a little nervous over what is going to happen to me.
Major Red said “Don’t you worry about all that; I’m going to get the 1st Sergeant to handle that.” I translated that to mean, don’t worry, you may get some fire watch and duty NCO for a while, but that’s it. I was so relieved; I did not know what to do! I had to tell somebody the good news! I had some pep in my step and I wanted to whistle! As I climbed down the ladder well, I saw Staff Sergeant Snake. SSgt. Snake was my section chief. Snake had recently come to our unit in lieu of an inappropriate sexual relationship with a PFC at his old unit. SSgt Snake had some career rebuilding to do, and used what I was about to tell him to make good with Lt. Mule.
SSgt. Snake said “have you heard anything on your deal?” I was so excited, I told him of the conversation I had just had with Major Red. I’m guessing that after that, SSgt. Snake went straight to Lt. Mule. Now, from what I can figure out, Lt. Mule had been appointed or appointed himself as the “prosecuting attorney” for my heinous crime. For a few days, I saw Lt. Mule milling around the berthing areas, which he had never done before. I had a few buddies tell me that Lt. Mule was asking them what all I had said to them about the incident. The next day, Lt. Mule approached me and with a devious smirk, told me “You are to report to Major Red’s stateroom at 1500 hours.
I frantically began to prepare myself. Let’s get this over with. I pressed out my utilities, starched my cover, busted out the new pair of black chevrons for my uniform, shined up the jungle boots to a mirror-like finish. At 14:45 hours I stood at parade rest at Major Red’s hatch. Every once in a while peeking down at the shine on my boots, going over what I would say in my head. Major Red walked in his room, followed by the XO, followed by the 1st Sergeant and finally by Lt. Mule. To myself I said oh ****! Multiple witnesses in a meeting are never good. I’m fixing to get the green weenie. I sat in that hallway for over 30 minutes wondering when they would call me in and what would happen to me. Finally the silence was broken and I heard Major Red say “Cpl, enter.
I snapped and popped, Sir, Cpl. XXXX reporting as ordered Sir! They had set up the room like a typical interrogation room, this cannot be good. I was never allowed to cross the threshold of the stateroom. As I stood there at the position of attention, I was told by Major Red “perhaps you misunderstood me the other day when I told you I would have the 1st Sergeant handle this incident. What I meant was that I would have the 1St Sergeant conduct an investigation and then based on the evidence, I would decide whether this needs to go to battalion or not. Are we clear Cpl. XXXX? Yes Sir! I said. You are dismissed Cpl. I did an about face and slithered away. Dammit! What the hell was that? I am so screwed. This Mickey Mouse crap is going to Battalion and I am going to get hammered. I can’t request a court martial, because I am on a damn ship!
A week had passed and I had still not been told what was going on. It was miserable, the wondering. Finally I was told to report to Lt. Colonel Regnair’s State room for battalion office hours. I had already gathered character references ranging from Captains to MSGT’s to Warrant Officers. I was ready for this fight. I would explain to the Old Man what happened and he would see the truth as it was!............Bull****! I was convicted before I ever entered the room.
I entered Lt. Regnairs stateroom. There were the usuals….Major Red, XO, Lt. Mule, SSgt Snake, 1st Sgt.. The Old Man sat erect in his chair behind a desk. Stone-faced, Regnair read me the riot act. Lt. Colonel Regnair told me to tell him what happened. Halfway through my deposition, Lt. Regnair slammed his hand down on the desk and with a red face screamed “How dare you come into my God damned office and try to justify what you did like it was right! I think you are a hot-head and I have no room in my Marine Corps for hot-headed NCO’s ” To myself, I said what the hell?
Lt. Colonel Regnair asked Major Red, 1st Sgt, XO and Lt. Mule did they have anything to say on my behalf. Every one of those sheep stared at the floor and shook their heads in the negative. Lt. Colonel Regnair asked SSgt Snake if he had anything to say on my behalf as the section chief. SSGt. Snake stuttered and said “Uh, he’s a good worker.” What a prick! A good worker?, a recruit can be a good worker.
Lt. Colonel Reganair asks me ‘ Do you have anything to say on your own behalf prior to me issuing judgement? I said, Sir, I have several character references outside, if I may?
Lt. Colonel Regnair stated “That won’t be necessary.”
Cpl. XXXX, I subsequently reduce you to the rank of Lance Corporal, 30 days no pay due and 30 days restriction to quarters. You are dismissed.
****!.....I can not believe this. What the hell? The boat will be in Norfolk in 12 days, I was supposed to go on leave when we got back. My Mom and Dad will be waiting at CLNC for me and I have no way of communicating to them I am busted and will not be able to go home with them. I am so ashamed. How can I tell my Dad who was so proud of me that I just got busted down?
Lie-ett got busted too, but that doesn’t help me feel any better. I lost two ranks, Cpl. and the Sgt. Warrant that was on admins desk. I was to be promoted to Sgt. Two days later had this not come up. There was never any mention again of the Commendation medal that Major Red wrote me up for. How can you give a medal to a guy that just got busted?
We got onto LCU’s and hummed toward Onslow beach. Everyone was excited about reuniting with their kid’s, wife, parents etc. As was I, but I cringed at having to tell my proud Papa that I was a failure as a Marine and I got busted. Dad always stood by me and told me he knew I could do anything. All that mattered in my life at that time was for my family to be proud of me and it still does. As all the other Marines ran to hug their families, I spotted my Dad looking for me in the crowd. How would I tell him? I ran up to him and hugged him. Hey Boy! , he said, he looked so proud of me. I felt like such an ass. I told him I had something to tell him. He had not yet noticed the Lance Corporal Chevrons on my collar. The last letter he got from me indicated that I would soon be a Sergeant. He was so proud of me. We walked over to the side away from every one. My Mom had then joined us. I explained to both of them what I had done and Dad just looked at me and Oh well, I’m just glad you are home buddy. My Mom, once I explained to her that I could not go home with them and that I could only visit with them in the recreation room, became enraged. She said who told you that. I pointed to Major Red and the 1st Sergeant. Momma turned towards them, I said Momma, No!, please don’t say anything to them, it will just cause more trouble. Momma never heard me. Mom went over to them and to my horror she began to give them the biggest ass-chewing I had ever heard a man get. I was proud of Momma, but scared at what lie in wait for me once she left.
As I was putting away my gear, I saw a red-faced 1st Sergeant walking toward me like a man on a mission. Oh ****, I said to myself, I’m done. The 1st Sergeant, still unable to look me in the eye stared at the ground like a freshly scolded child and said. “ Uh XXXX, we decided that you have done enough time on restriction, go home and spend some time with your family.
I had three months left in the Corps on my enlistment when I got back from leave. When the career planner approached me about re-upping I asked him why they would want an old **** bag that got busted to re-up. He promised me Meritorious Cpl. On the spot and guaranteed Sgt. in 5 months. I pondered the offer, but thought to myself, what if I have 18 years on the job and I have another hiccup, I could lose everything over nothing. I respectfully declined his offer and decided to get out.
My last day was finally here. I had completed 4 honorable years and was going home. My last day coincided with a regimental Change of Command ceremony. I was no longer with the unit I was attached to with the MEU. I was with my real unit. People who really gave a crap about me and knew of my ethic. I figured that they would have me answer the phones at the company office during the ceremony. Usually after a change of command, they let the Marines have a 96 hour pass. Everyone usually gets off at noon after the ceremony. I had my U-haul packed and all my gear turned into supply. I was ready to beat feet.
Gunnery Sgt. Loyalty approached me and stated “Cpl. XXXX, (He as well as most of the rank at my unit still called me Corporal…….it meant a lot to me) Go to supply and draw some 782 gear, then go to the armory and get a rifle, you will be in this ceremony.
****!........I don’t want to be in this dumbass parade. It is my last day. It will take me hours to turn all that crap in once I am done. I had planned on being on the road by
13:00 hours. What an ass to make me do all this crap on my last day.
As I stood at parade rest feeling sorry for myself in the scorching July heat with the rest of the Regiment. All I could think about was getting home to Mommas good food and Fishing with Dad. I looked at the audience in front of us, Senators, Congressman, Generals, Full birds and wanted the long winded Old man to pass the Colors so I could go home. All of a sudden the Colonel said “before I pass the Colors to the incoming Commander, I would like to take a minute to recognize one of our Marines. I was saying to myself, great, let’s get this **** over with. I gotta go.
The Colonel then said “Cpl XXXX, Front and Center!” I could not move. We were so far away from the podium, I wasn’t sure I heard what I heard. After a few of my comrades hit me in the ribs and Gunny Loyalty says “ XXXX GET YOUR ASS UP THERE!, I put my rifle at port arms and ran up there. What a Jackass I must have looked like running 200 meters at port arms across that huge field. I reported with a rifle salute and the Colonel began speaking very nice career related things about me. I almost cried. He presented me with a plaque made by Gunny Wolf. I was so emotionally confused; I did not know what to do. I thought I had been done wrong by the Marines and they go and do something like this.
I turned all my gear in. I placed the plaque on my front seat and began to drive home. As I passed all the sights and sounds of Camp Lejeune I wondered what life would be like now. What would I do? Where would I work? Am I doing the right thing by getting out?
As I drove past the MP’s at the front gate, I teared up. Bull****, I cried. That was a long drive home. I always wondered if I made the right choice getting out. When I look at my Wife and kids, I know I made the right decision, as I may have never met my wife if I had stayed in the Marines. The Marines was my life at the time. I learned so much from the Marines. I will always be a Marine. Semper Fi !
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