Master Sergeant Rolls

The building looked like any office space. Instead of cubicles, just a few desks and computers occupied the area. The corporals, Cortland Carras and Samantha Hillinger sniggered. Only to themselves, however. They dared not let the gunny or staff sergeant see them laughing at the uniform of the Marine that outranked all of them in the room. Master Sergeant Kent Kipton wore the same digiprint camouflage uniform as the others. He pressed it and affixed his insignia in the proper places. The master sergeant’s sleeves caught the corporals’ attention. They looked like two flat monster truck tires rolled up just past his elbow. They looked like two soggy donuts approaching his upper arm.

“Did you get the occupational hazard sheets, Gunny?” Kipton asked.

Gunny Gardener said, “I’m almost done. Yes, I should have those over within the hour.”

Carras and Hillinger, who spent many minutes perfecting the art of the sleeve roll fashioned them to their arms with smooth lines and expert style, tried their best to keep a straight face.

“What’s so funny, corporals?”

“It’s nothing, Master Sergeant,” Carras said.

“Yes, we’re just talking about the latest video game and how much fun it is.”

“Okay. No, you’re not. It’s my sleeves.”

Carras and Hillinger looked at each other with blank stares.

“C’mon. A Marine never lies. You’re gaffing off at the Top about my sleeves. Well, let me tell you something. Once you pick up gunny, it’s all crumpled up from there,” Kipton smiled.

Carras and Hillinger sighed relief. Kipton continued. “It’s not that I used to not roll them up precisely as you young chickens. It’s just that I’ve got so much on my plate that I tend to neglect the smaller details of the uniform.”

“I mean we could roll them up for you, Master Sergeant….” Carras said.

Hillinger shot a look at Carras. Kipton smiled. “I know that you’re busy yourselves. You’ve got the range, MCMAP, and the Commandant's reading list. Not to mention your deployment schedule. No. I’ll figure out a way for these doggone sleeves to be properly fitted on my biceps.”

Gunny Gardener cleared his throat. He turned to his junior Marines. “You see, Gunny doesn’t always have the best sleeves either. It comes with experience. The more that the top rolls down on us, the worse our sleeve rolls become. We could employ the efforts of you and those below you, but we’d rather make sure that we’re mission ready and show at least a modicum of proper attire to work.”

Kipton chimed in to the conversation again. “Think about it. If you stay in the Corps on the ‘E’ side or even if you become a mustang and serve as an officer, you will be tasked with greater responsibilities than you have had in the past. These sleeves represent the mountain of problems that you’re going to have to solve as you move up in rank.”

Carras and Hillinger looked at each other. Hillinger spoke up. “Master Sergeant, Gunny, we meant no disrespect against either of you. We understand that the weight of the Corps rests on sergeants and SNCOs and those in the ‘O’ field. We get it. No offense, gentlemen.”

“No worries, Corporal. Just consider the reality of how the upper ranks must focus on a multitude of projects, assignments, and other concerns in order to keep you and your buddies combat ready.”

Yes, Master Sergeant,” Carras and Hillinger said in unison.

“Now, is there a class that I could take, it’s been so long, that I can improve my sleeve-rolling skills?” Kipton asked.

“There’s videos online that would be the best bet for you to maintain the best sleeve discipline,” Hillinger said.

“That sounds good to me,” Kipington said.