Marine Corps Stories: Operation Green to Real Green

Corporal Jaimie Vincent’s arrival to the barracks received no fanfare. No troops rallied around the young man. He didn’t accept any beer and cake for his effort. It was all business. Vincent remained squared away; from his haircut to his boot laces (left over right) he projected his new role. Once an Army soldier, he now walked in the light of the United States Marine Corps. He first checked in with his Service Alpha uniform that boasted a few pieces of chest candy tacked to his left breast. As he stood at the position of attention, in front of Master Sergeant George Glaxon. Vincent stared at the achievements on the wall. His palms laid tight in soft fists against his trouser seams and seemed as if he clutched tiny, smooth stones.

“Have a seat, Corporal,” Glaxon said. Vincent abided.

“So, you’re crossing from the green to the real green are you?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.”

“I’ll tell you something. My whole family is Army. I said to hell with that, too. I can see why you wanted to make that transition.”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.”

“Infantryman? And now you want to do administrative work. I can relate to that, too. I started out as a grunt. Spent fifteen years at the tip of the spear. Then I got old and my knees got bad. I was a gunny when I made the choice to be at a desk. Do you miss the Army grunts? Your unit?”

“Sometimes, Master Sergeant.”

“Yes, I know. I know. In the thick of it, those are your brothers...and sisters. But all that’s the same in even a non-infantry role. You still look out for your fellow Marines no matter what.”

Vincent wished to roll his eyes but refrained.

“Yes, Master Sergeant.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’ve never encountered a dogface turned Marine in my entire career and I’ve been in for eighteen years. Enough about me. Did you have chow already?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.”

“Good. I don’t want to keep you too long and have that stomach rumbling.” He let out a great belly laugh. The light from his office shone down on his bald almond head.

“Alright, you’re going to be assigned to VMA 517 based on your training as a 6046 Maintenance Administrative Specialist for Aircraft. Your assignment will be determined in just a few moments after I put all of your information into the system. What unit were you with in the Army?”

“1st Infantry Division, Master Sergeant.”

“Goddamn! Even for some dogfaces that’s impressive. I had gotten a chance to work with the 1st when I was a sergeant. There was some friction at the beginning but then we learned to say ‘one team, one fight.’ That’s because the enemy could give a damn about what branch we’re in, really. They see that US on our uniforms and they’re going to be on the offensive. That’s why we should only have pissing contests in garrison and not in the field. Now that you’ve gone through MCRD, PI and MCT, and your MOS school, you should have a firmer grasp on esprit de corps.”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.”

“Alright I’ve got most of your information in the computer and I’m just waiting on your specific orders to process. So what do you do for fun, Corporal Vincent?”

“Master Sergeant?”

“I’ve got a bike. She’s sweet. Dual exhaust and everything. I’m trying to cover the whole United States, including flying out to Hawaii. I’ve been dreaming of this ever since I was in high school. Now, with my retirement coming up, I think I might have a chance to accomplish my goal. Do you ride?”

“No, Master Sergeant.”

“You can quit with the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ ‘Master Sergeant’ bit. Just relax. You’re just about loaded into the network.”

“Yes...Okay.”

“That’s better. Less robotic.” He peered at the screen like a jeweler appraising a ruby. “It looks like you are all here.” He rose from his seat and shook Vincent’s hand.

“Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks, Master Sergeant it’s been a real pleasure to have you usher me into the Fleet.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal. Just remember one thing....”

“What’s that, Master Sergeant?”

"You’re not in the Army anymore, goddamnit!” Glaxon smiled.

Vincent just laughed.

Back at the barracks, the other junior Marines cleaned while the corporals and sergeants spent some leisure time. Vincent wore shorts and a t-shirt.

“So did Top Glaxon tear into you for being a former Army guy?” Sergeant Stillmore asked.

“No, he was cool.”

“Cool.”

Vincent then walked around the barracks...his new home for the time being.