HE JOINED THE MARINES BUT DIDN'T

HE JOINED THE MARINES BUT DIDN'T

By Andy Weddington

Wednesday, 16 December 2020

The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live.  - George Carlin

It happened again yesterday morning.

Out of the blue. When least expected. 

After pulling into a service bay for an oil change, a gent, masked of course, not quite a decade my senior approached to check me (actually, my car, a minivan, monikered "Chick Magnet" by an Army general a few years ago) in.

He noted the subtle (if that's possible) Marine window decal and asked, "Marine?"

"Yes, retired," I said. 

"I joined the Marines," he told me.

Thinking we were about to have an interesting conversation, he continued, "I wanted to go to Vietnam but did not want to be drafted so I joined."

Masked, too, but seeing my questioning eyes he paused then said, "Kidney stone. They would not take me because of a kidney stone."

I spoke not a word and walked to a nearby workstation to review the service call with a tech.

Seated in the waiting room some thoughts came to mind.

Should I have just wished that guy "Merry Christmas!" before walking away?

Is he so clueless he does not know a Marine knows nonsense from horse sense regarding anything Marine?

Surely it would have been a waste of words and time to school him that no one but no one "joins" the Marines.

Fact is only Marines allow one to join (them) and then only after conquering the rigorous entry-level proving grounds of recruit training and Officer Candidates School.

There's no other way; though some try to tell tall tale otherwise. 

No sir, no one joins the Marines. Marines join you.  

He had to know I knew.

These guys are everywhere. 

And then I forgot about him and turned to my pocket sketchbook.

Car care done time it was to pop in on mom.

"Andy, I've been watching news. This Biden guy has dementia. He scares me. And so does that Harris woman. What do you think?"

"Biden has Alzheimer's, mom. Scary is a good word. They're not Marines." 

She sort of laughed but not as in humor and told me she needed ice cream bars. 

"Mom, now that's important. Let's go!"

And so we did; for Brown Cows.   

Later in the day arrived short note from a Marine I've not met. 

A Chief Warrant Officer (bursting bomb type - gunner, they're called) nearing retirement, energy failing to ignore and resist the continued erosion of our culture, stumbled on a commentary published more than seven years ago about women serving in ground combat MOSs.

Actually, I wrote more than a handful on the topic (objectively applying a little bit of experience as an infantryman and common sense). [No one cared but it was good to get it off mind and chest.] 

Complimentary, he wanted to know in light of current events if my views evolved in recent years. 

They have.

Stiffened!

With age, dumber the idea.

With that the admitted boost to morale he got from the commentary, another jolt for the good order, certainly.  

Not solicited I added, as is dumb the now realized hard left feminist's agenda of gender-integrated training.

Three years (going back more than 37 years) supervising DIs aboard recruit depot Parris Island and still I cannot fathom females training with males. 

Marine spirit and ferocity (to train and fight) is not questioned.

But when spirit and ferocity is hampered by laws of Mother Nature - lack of speed, strength, and endurance, among other critical physiological and psychological measures - there's trouble; injury, life and death - training or battle. 

Why?

Sigh. 

"So, Santa, especially tolerant, civil, and behaved this year, please nothing more than sprinkling a heaping dose of sanity on the Corps and seating our President four more. Good luck with the bad girls, door-to-door. Your friend, A" 

Merry Christmas!