Levels to This

The gunnery sergeant Barrymore Dane affixed his chevrons. “I’ve got some of the paperwork done, sir,” he announced.

“Why not all of it, Gunny?” Lieutenant Ferdinand Stacker asked.

“I’ve been swamped. I had to deal with three NJPs and failed at least four room inspections over the weekend.”

“Okay.”

“So, I’ll definitely get the work done by the time the skipper gets back.”

“Alright, Gunny. No sweat.” Lieutenant Stacker left the office. Four desktops sat on tables in the room. A typewriter sat adjacent to files of flight hours for pilots like Stacker. Gunny Dane saw his PFCS and corporals file into the room. His pressed cammies and sharp sleeve rolls impressed his junior Marines.

“Listen up. I’ve got news down from Top that we’re going to have an inspection. I know that might seem scary, but we have our shit together. We know that everything has to be in its proper place. We know that there’s levels to this. If we don’t pass, you know where that boulder of shit rolls down to, don’t you? So let’s make this as painless as possible. Herra!”

“Yes, Gunny?” Corporal Robin Herra asked in a strong voice. Her uniform was pert and flawless.

“I want you to make sure these guys know their stuff and can’t back up OOMA if it is necessary. It should be, we’ve been doing it for the past five years,” Gunny mentioned.

“Redd, I’m going to need you to impart the ways we best use the computer systems to demonstrate to the inspectors that we have complete clarity and mastery over our work space.”

“Got it, Gunny,” Corporal Goings Redd replied.

The lieutenant returned. Gunny had at least eight more years of experience in the field but he still shot to his feet along with the rest of the room to recognize the presence of an officer.

“Gunny these numbers are shit. Look what you have here. If we’re going to lick this inspection, we’re going to need to have better figures than this,” Stacker reminded.

“Yes, sir, I—”

“I want you to be at your best. You’ve proven time and time again just how thorough you can be. Don’t let that slip away from you.” Stacker left again.

“You see that? There’s levels to this shit. I’ve been in firefights and been blown up twice. That lieutenant barely got out of OCS. He’s a good butter bar but I have to show you why ai come down so hard on all of you. You’re going to want to not destroy any relationships you have with officers. From bars to stars, they’re the ones that actually take care of us, and we them. So let this be a lesson to you. We may wear different ranks, but we’re all in the same utility uniforms. Never forget that,” Gunny said. His voice almost cracked. He felt a twinge of melancholy when he pondered the NCOs and junior Marines under his care. He clutched onto his computer screen and adjusted it to his height. He stood at his desk. All the other Devils stood as well.

“Goddamnit,” Dane remarked. “I’ve got to take this to the first sergeant. Do you think you corporals can mind these newly minted Leathernecks?”

“Yes, Gunny,” Redd and Herra chimed.

“Good. I’ll be back ricky ticky fast,” he smirked.

Redd and Herra descended on Private Mills and Private First Class Mcnabb Sola.

“What the hell do you think Gunny’s going to do if you don’t have all the reports in their proper place?” Herra asked. “What so you think is going to happen if we’re not totally squared away in all our dealings?”

“She’s right. We have to ask ourselves these questions