|
…Dad studied my beat-up Studebaker, looked out at the night sky, and then came
out with it. “Marlin, just what in hell do you want in life?”
Like
I should know. I’d given thought to the military. My
parents were for it, but I wasn’t sure. I knew only one thing. “Dad,
I want to get out there and see what the hell this world’s all about.”
The
next day, I went to the recruiting office and interviewed with the air force,
army and navy. The flyboys wouldn’t talk to me because I
didn’t have a high school diploma. The army and navy said they’d
give me this training and that and travel to exotic foreign places – tried
to make me believe I was a prince or duke or someone they couldn’t get
along without. No go. I wasn’t comfortable with them laying
it on that thick.
The following day, I went back to the recruiting center
and strolled into the marine corps recruiting office. A huge gunnery
sergeant sat behind a metal desk, head down, staring at his paperwork. Three
minutes passed before he finally looked up and growled, “What the fuck
do you want?”
How does a 128-pound sixteen-year-old answer that? Suddenly,
I felt naked and vulnerable in the big sergeant’s presence. I must
have smiled because he frowned. Not good. Then, I decided to try
assertiveness. A
tough little guy not afraid to work the system might impress him. I straightened
up and looked him in the eye. “What have you got to offer me?”
Immediately,
his frown turned into a scowl. A black carpet of big, bushy eyebrows covered
his forehead, his voice a low rumble, like bowling balls loose in the back
of a truck. “Not a God damned thing! My beloved
marine corps will give you only what we want you to fucking have.”
Talk
I understood. I liked this sales pitch! I asked him about
enlisting, and he told me my parents had to sign. The next morning, I
was back with Mom and Dad to do the paperwork.
|
