Give the Marines what they Really Need for Their Birthday - - Money (776 hits)
Category: PoliticsRating: 0.88 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <RCChristi.at.msn.com> (View user info) at 2004-11-10 22:03:49 EST
Chapter I - What Are You Getting The Marines for Their Birthday?
The Marine Corps' birthday is right around the corner, you know. November 10th is the big day. Don't think a few dollars in that envelope with the card you'll be sending won't be appreciated. It will. The Marines do the grunt work for the Army. The Army is the military branch with all the money. Just look at all that state of the art equipment it has. Unless I'm thinking of the Airforce or the Navy. In any case, The Marines get money for M16 rifles and boot polish, and not much more than that.
Chapter II - Don't Knock Yourself Out We Just Want Money
I was a Marine Corps Reservist, and let me tell you, we couldn't afford to go to Gunpowder Falls one year for our annual rifle shooting qualification day. The Commanding Officer had all of us assemble in the gymnasium where he spoke a few words to us on the matter in the early morning. "The unit is going broke," he said. "We're going to have to use some ingenuity today to complete our required efforts. I'm asking each of you to bite the bullet - - not literally, but
figuratively. You are the few and the proud, and I am confident that you will all adjust to unexpected changes out of budget concerns."
Chapter III - Left Right Left Right
Personally, I thought he could have at least requisitioned a bus. We were led on a force march right after a few cups of mud the Marines call coffee. The force march wasn't a brilliant idea since many of us are the type who get pissed off when we have to go out and pick up our own pizza. And the sergeants all think they're John Phillip Sousa when they lead us troops to the gas station and back every month.
We started marching to the range and right away the sergeants up front started to sing an inspiring little ditty about a precocious young lady who worked as an elevator operator at a brothel in New Orleans. After a while the songs we sang sounded the same and the entire medley just lulled into one long hypnotic mantra. This kind of thing happened all the time in recruit training. When it does, you fall out, fall asleep, or you 'hang in there' and vomit all over
the boots of the guy ahead of you. And then when you get to your destination, if you haven't dropped out along the way, your Achilles' tendon hurts like hell because that's where you've been kicked the whole time.
Chapter IV - Excuse Me Is There Anyone In The Mens Room?
We had to stop force marching when the pedestrian traffic on the streets of downtown Baltimore became just a bit too heavy. We all started to bitch and moan and rub our boots because our ankles were so sore from being kicked. Then we had to fight our way past the people waiting outside Hausner's restaurant just so we could get to the mens room and wash the puke off our hands. It was a horrible experience. We came back outside and the line was gone. It was
embarrassing. We were probably so repulsive to all those innocent people that they must have run down to Phillip's by the Inner Harbor just so they wouldn't be near us when we hit the street again. It was terrible.
Chapter V - Where Do You Think You Are? Disneyland?
By the time we arrived at the penny arcade we were tired as hell.
Chapter VI - Freezing The Kicker
Luckily, I wasn't on the first relay. I caught my breath and relaxed by racing in a few Indy 500's. Then I played some pinball-matic baseball games against a buddy. It's a good thing I hit a grand slam in the ninth inning of one of those games or I never would have made it to the World Series.
I had the football at third and a yard to go on my own 45-yard line in a computerized football game when they told me it was my turn to shoot. I was forced to call a time-out, and that made me angry. I only had two time-outs left and I had really been hoping to wait until I had a first down before I called one. I really hated to leave that game just then. There was three minutes left in regulation and the score was tied.
Chapter VII - I Can't Work With The Tools You Give Me
My concentration was off as I stood at the firing line. First of all, it wasn't the right weapon. It was a 12-gauge Remington shotgun facsimile, mounted on a swivel atop a fiberglass deck. And I didn't particularly care for the target, either. I was supposed to shoot and kill a wild-west cowboy who held a Colt in each hand. He kept running out of a bank and into the street, then back into the bank again. Sometimes when he ran from the bank he found refuge behind a cactus.
Then there was the crummy stool that was nailed to the floor. Since I couldn't kick it out of my way, I had to stand, awkwardly, behind it. My sense of balance was out of whack.
Chapter VIII - The Peanut Gallery
Worst of all, however, I had to contend with some goddamned private who kept bragging about all the goldfish and plastic bracelets he'd won on account of all those high-scoring coupons he'd racked up playing Skee-ball.
Chapter IX - I Told My Friend I'm Seeing Spots And He Asked If I've Seen A Doctor
I forgot which eye I was supposed to keep closed as I aimed at the target. When I closed my right eye, the muzzle was pointed at a saloon window. When I closed my left eye, I was aiming at the cactus. So I kept both eyes closed and shot the cowboy's horse. That must have made the cowboy pissed. But I couldn't kill him. He was too quick for me. He was obviously an experienced fugitive. After a while I gave up trying for the one-shot kill and aimed for his kneecaps. My idea was to wound him so he'd fall to the ground and lie there helplessly in terrible pain. I figured if I could do that to him it would enable me to take my time and line up the perfect shot necessary to blow his fuckin' head off. But I was awful. I was worse than awful. I couldn't even hit the goddamn eagle that kept flying over the hotel. The line coach finally had to order a cease fire just so I wouldn't keep on making a fool of myself. I was so mad I kicked the nailed-down stool and nearly broke my toe.
Chapter X - Silver Linings
It didn't take long before I got over my failure to qualify at the range. Other things picked up for me. I'd gone back to the pinball baseball games and won the World Series. And I kicked a 28-yard field goal with ten seconds left in regulation to win the computerized football game and advance to the Super Bowl.
Chapter XI - Brother Can You Spare A Dime?
The troops were still shooting when the Commanding Officer realized that there wasn't going to be enough funds to subsidize every man's qualification effort. We finally had to beat the shit out of the Change Kid just so he'd give us a roll of quarters. By the time we were all finished shooting, the prevailing mood was that of frustration and anger. The only one of us who had qualified was the loud-mouth private with the plastic bracelets. The goldfish had become
too much of a nuissance for him to carry around, so he had bitten a hole in the bag and swallowed them.
Chapter XII - Yumm This Is Good Can I Please Have The Recipe?
You really ought to be glad you weren't around when we left the boardwalk. We were one pissed off bunch of Marines when we stormed into Gino's and held it under siege. We told the manager that no one could leave until he'd given us the recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken. He wrote it on a napkin and gave it to a corporal. But some sergeant put a gun to the corporal's head and demanded the recipe. None of us appreciated that move too much. Pulling rank just isn't cool in the military. And the gun he used wasn't even Marine Corps issue. That definitely wasn't playing it square. The least he could have done was invite all of us to his house for dinner sometime.
Chapter XIII - Gratuitous Violence
Everyone was set to force march back to the Reserve Center, but I didn't want to go through that routine again. I stepped out into the street and hailed a cab. Usually I disdain cabs because of cost. But I didn't mind doing so now since I had no money anyway. I got out at the top of a small hill in the road a block from the Reserve Center and, very politely, explained my financial situation to the driver. But wouldn't you know, his face turned red and he screamed bloody murder at me. Then he reached out the window and tried to grab my throat. He probably would have choked me to death if I hadn't taken a quick step back. God, he'd really pissed me off. I chopped him karate-style on the Adam's apple. Then I poured gasoline all over his cab and set it on fire. I put the cab in neutral and pushed it down the hill. The thing would have made it all the way down to the bottom of the hill, too, if it hadn't blown up. Or crashed into the El
Camino at the intersection. I couldn't tell which came first. It was too close.
Chapter XIIII - Epiphany
As I walked to my car, I became depressed when I thought about the unit's miserable qualification effort at the penny arcade. And it almost killed me when I realized that failing to qualify could only mean that we haven't learned a fuckin' thing about combat despite our years of service in the Marines.
User Reviews
Submitted by scrumdown (user info) at 2004-11-11 11:11:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Semper Fi....
Hey knuckleheads, the Corps is always under the Department of the Navy, peacetime or wartime. We are the Mens Department....hahahahahahaha!!! No, seriously, we always fall under the jurisdiction of the Navy, look at our seal. Plus in the chain of command, the Secretary of the Navy is right between the Commadant and the Sec. of Denfense...if I remember Boot Camp correctly....and if not, Senior Drill Instructer Staff Sergeant Ceullar may not let me live to see the next sunrise.
Submitted by Dervel (user info) at 2004-11-11 03:51:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Boring, boring and thrice - boring.
Besides there are only two types of Marines, Royal Marines and submarines.
Submitted by screamfeeder (user info) at 2004-11-11 01:53:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Describing the cowboy made me laugh.
Submitted by Lechuga (user info) at 2004-11-11 01:26:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Actually, during wartime, the Marines are a subsidiary of the Navy. During peacetime, they are separate banches. So, technically, both of you are correct. I have a brother in the Marine Corps, and he was on an aircraft carrier for about 4 months. I don't think that the Marines have those, they probably borrowed them from the Navy.
+2 for the U.S. Military.
OOH RAH!
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-11-11 00:40:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by cheruboo (user info) at 2004-11-10 22:30:50 (#)
Ranking: -2
I think you may be retarded. The Marines are part of the Navy, not the army, hence the name "MARINES"
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Since when are the Marines part of the Navy? There are four main AUTONOMOUS sectors of the armed forces: Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines. There are others, but they consider those the major ones.
+2 just for his stupid comment. I may read this some other time.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-11-10 22:50:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
"The thing would have made it all the way down to the bottom of the hill, too, if it hadn't blown up. Or crashed into the El Camino at the intersection. I couldn't tell which came first. It was too close."
This was not too bad at all. That line made me laugh.
Submitted by cheruboo (user info) at 2004-11-10 22:30:50 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
I think you may be retarded. The Marines are part of the Navy, not the army, hence the name "MARINES"
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2004-11-10 22:11:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I'll read this tomorrow.