Marine Corps Stories: Bank

The incessant tapping of the keyboard created a music all its own. In the shop, PFC Anderson Grimes struggled to keep his mind focused on the task of recording flight hours for the Marine pilots. The two corporals, Jorge Ruiz and Paul Husk looked at each other.

“He’s thinking of women,” Ruiz said.

“Yes and no. I’ve been contemplating this money.”

“If you came into the Marine Corps for the money, then you’re in the wrong business,” Gunny Hunter said.

“I would challenge that, Gunny,” Grimes said. Hunter’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Oh, would you, now?”

“Yes, Gunny. I come from a small town. Not too many prospects if you don’t have a degree or are part of a family business. I signed up with my recruiter telling me that I’ll make cash as soon as I step on those yellow footprints.”

Hunter folded his arms and leaned back. “So, you’re saying that this machine is your way to stack notes?”

“What I mean is for the kid who came off of the block selling rock or the rural youngster who knows how to hunt and to carry his grandaddy’s shotgun, the Marines is a way to improve oneself. So no, I am not thinking of women. I let them think of me. I’m here for the dollars.”

“Okay, so you want to break the bank on Uncle Sam’s time. Make sure that you’re not fantasizing about all this money and actually earn this pay,” Hunter said.

“Aye, Gunny,” Grimes said.

“Besides the money that we make is nothing compared to the civilian equivalent. Look it up. See how much an admin specialist makes out in the world,” Husk said.

Ruiz grinned. He said, “That’s true. I looked up my MOS and the salary is almost double that of what I make here. But I didn’t come into the Corps for the money.”

Hunter folded his hands behind his head and rested his left foot on his right knee. “Why are you in my beloved Corps, Ruiz?”

“I want to kill.”

“Aren’t we all,” Husk said wistfully as if remembering a dream.

Grimes continued to type up the hours and turned to his superiors.

“Now, that is to be contested, respectfully,” Grimes countered. “We of course are trained to destroy the enemy, but that should not be the driving force behind our roles as Marines.”

“So, what is it, then?” Gunny Hunter asked.

“To preserve reason and individualism,” Grimes said.

The gunny and two corporals shook their heads and sighed.

“What?”

“We’re here to defend the rudiments of this country.”

“Okay, Alpha….” Hunter said. “Best to get back to work.”

Grimes attempted to return to his labor, but once again, he began to drift.

“Do you need to grab an energy drink,” Husk asked.

“No, I need to get to a combat zone so that I can get this tax free money.”

“Now, that’s pay. When I was over in Saudi Arabia, I received bank from being in a combat zone. I might’ve gone outside the wire once. I was able to get a car and secure a loan for a house. I can kind of see where you’re going, Grimes.”

“I was a grunt before I switched over to admin. I was in the thick of it. But just like any other service member, we were excluded from paying taxes. Let me tell you, it was lovely to see those deposits in my account.”

Gunny Hunter. “When I was a PFC like you Grimes in the mountains of Afghanistan, I too wanted to rake in the money. So, I do get your point.”

The four Marines looked at each other and then got down to their separate tasks. This time, Grimes had a bit more focus.