Marine Corps Stories: Pay Grade

The email opened. Private Coolidge Paulson read it in disbelief. He looked at it, mouth agape, and looked bewildered and enticed at the same time. He read it:

“OFFICIAL UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS CORRESPONDENCE:

As part of a new experiment in the program of the Marine Corps, black, Hispanic, and Asian junior Marines are being selected to serve as four star generals. This is a move for more equity amongst our ranks. No college experience or years of service will be required for the position. You will be pinned on your stars exactly one week from today. Again, this is an opportunity for minorities to excel at the highest level of the Marine Corps.

Signed,

Colonel Anna Tunnwind

Paulson’s mind reeled. His stomach turned. In walked his roommate Connor McLaughlin.

“What’s that?” He snatched the letter and began reading. “What the hell? You’re not accepting this bullshit are you?”

“Hell no! I mean…I’m not going to do it.”

“You better not. This will be the destruction of all things Marines. This will be a vicious, ugly thing. It would be the worst.”

“I know that’s right….” Paulson answered.

“You don’t seem to be convinced. You seem torn.”

Paulson exhaled. “I am.”

“You shouldn’t be goddamnit! Merit is the badge that this Corps stands on. If we let anyone be a four star, we’re in trouble. Deep shit.”

“I know. Now, I am certain. It’s a disaster waiting, just ticking on the edge of reality. I’m turning in. To hell with that letter. I’m just glad I got clarity for how not to go along with every word that comes down.”

Paulson stripped down to his skivvies and got the top bunk. He soon fell asleep.

McLaughlin looked at his laptop. He researched the history of his family which was full of colonizers and plantation owners. Yet he found a bit about a great-grandmother. His grin widened. She was an old slave that had sired his great-great-great-great grandfather’s children. He whipped around and made a move towards the letter and looked at the requirements for eligibility.

“At least two percent of a minority or a woman,” he whisper-read to himself.

I can fill in for the first but I’m not about to have a sex change anytime soon, he thought. Better make sure about the percentage. I’ll just look at the lineage site to make sure. What do you do? Spit and send? I think I can handle that. He turned to his lower bunk for rest.

After another day of patrol, the two Marines came back inside the wire. This time, Paulson discovered McLauglin hunched over his laptop.

“What’s up?”

McLaughlin chimed, “Research.”

“For what? You plan on writing an essay for the Commandant’s reading list?”

“Something like that?”

Paulson peered at the screen.

“What the hell?”

“I’m doing it.”

“But you’re white!”

“I’ve got a percentage in my family that says I rate.”

“You son of a bitch. You’re a liar.”

“Hey, the white man is the original gangster. He brought civilization to this continent. I say, ‘If I'm able to become a general, I’m snatching the chance.’”

“You crook, you fraud.”

“Ungh, Ungh, Ungh two percent.”

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“Oh really, the one who slimed his way through Boot Camp and SOI wants to accuse me for taking advantage of a chance that will propel me.”

“Careerist!”

“You’re goddamn right I’m a careerist. Once I get that fourth star pinned on my shoulder, I’m going to go all the way to Arlington County.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“And you’re going to salute me.”

“I’ll be goddamned.”

“Look, if you don’t want this, I’ll happily remove the worry for you. You won’t have to fret about not having earned the right to be the leader of men and women in the greatest Marine Corps in the world.”

“And your qualifications are what? You can stand on your head and chug beer while singing the Marine Corps Hymn?”

“That’s one of my many talents, but I’ll be able to actually apply my community college smarts.”

“You dropped out, though….”

“I know. I’ll be the first dropout, man of black descent to ever be general.”

“I’d like to see you try it.”