A Situation
On November 29th, a week after returning from
The air buzzed with conversation as Marines settled into place with their respective work sections. Simone felt the tension as she made her way to formation on that crisp winter afternoon. Everyone seemed on edge, especially the CO, who was huddled in a corner with the colonel, HqBtry regimental commander. He seemed to be listening intently with his hands clenched firmly behind his back. Mack saved Simone’s usual spot – somewhere in the middle of the platoon, slightly to the rear to avoid notice.
As she slid in place she nudged Mack. “What the hell is going on?” Simone asked.
“I don't know,” he said, “but something big is about to go down.”
“My mom’s been watching the news. She seems to think we might be going to Saudi. What do you think Mack?”
“I think your ass needs to invest in a TV. According to the news some shit is about to jump off. The scuttlebutt is that they are definitely planning on deploying a bunch of folks.”
“Do you think our unit will go?”
“Even if we do, I don’t think they’re gonna send admin. In any case you probably ain’t goin’. How often do they send women?”
At that point the commanding officer appeared in front of the formation and the platoon sergeant called the platoon to the position of parade rest – hands behind the back, no talking. The commanding officer called them back to attention. Then the colonel, commander of the regiment, came forward, saluted the CO and took charge of the formation. The platoon was instructed to stand at ease. Simone held her breath as she waited for the colonel to speak.
“Headquarters, a situation has arisen and our unit has to deploy to
Then the colonel turned the formation back over to the CO.
Simone looked confused. “That’s it. A situation? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Simone thought. “What the hell is going on?”
The commanding officer turned over command to the platoon sergeant who spoke briefly before dismissing them, but Simone’s mind failed to register anything that was being said. She grappled with the words spoken by the regimental commander. “A situation has arisen and our unit has to deploy to
She turned to Mack. “Are we going to war? Am I going to war? This is bullshit! They call formation, give us some half assed info, and then dismiss us like everything is gravy. What the fuck!” She looked at him waiting for an answer, hoping he’d be able to make sense of what they both heard.
Mack looked at her dumbfounded. “Don’t ask me, I don’t even know where the fuck
Simone’s mind replayed the only war movie she’d seen – Platoon. Women aren’t even allowed on the front lines.
After formation Mack and Simone walked back to the office. She was still trying to make sense of what they had not been told.
“Damn Mack, of all the years to start a war, they would wait until I enlisted. They’re not saying it’s a war, but we all know that’s what this is.”
“Man, I promised my moms and my girl Michelle I’d be home for Christmas this year. I even made plane reservations.”
“Mack, don’t even play like you’re in a hurry to get home to Kan-tuck-kee. What, do you have a possum sandwich there with your name on it or something?”
“Oh, you got jokes. I told you my mom made me a possum sandwich once – one time. Can’t tell some folks nothin’. Besides, I was looking forward to catching up with some old friends, but it looks like I’m gonna have to do a bunch of quickies.” Mack said with a wink.
“Don’t you have enough women here?”
“Yep, and they will all be here when I get back,” Mack said with a Cheshire cat grin.
“Lucky you,” Simone’s light hearted banter took on a distressed tone, “Wes is artillery, a gun rock. He’ll probably be on the front line. His enlistment contract is supposed to be up in a couple of months. I know he’s pissed.”
“Damn, that’s messed up. Are you sure he’s going?”
“No doubt in my mind. If we’re going, you know artillery is going. C’mon we’d better get back to work.”
When they got back there was a long line outside the office. It was a madhouse. Deployments always meant a lot of paperwork. Marines came in to update their Servicemen’s Group Life Insurance and their Record of Emergency Data so the admin office would have a record of each Marine’s beneficiary and next of kin. Since this was no ordinary deployment the number of Marines outside of the admin office was way off the charts.
Simone grimaced, “Shit, look at that line. It would take a war to get these damn gun rocks to fill their shit out.”
Mack added, “It’s not like we haven’t been trying to get most of these knuckleheads to come in for months.”
Mack was right. The Marines’ records should have been updated a long time ago, but no one cared if their next of kin info and insurance was up to date until faced with the possibility of death.
“What the hell is the point of the admin office scheduling appointments with Marines to audit their record books?” Simone griped.
Appointments were rescheduled or ignored regularly. Few Marines ever showed up for their appointments. Even when they did, they usually filled them out incorrectly, despite having an admin clerk go through the form with them step by step. They always signed in exactly the wrong place or wrote their information incorrectly invalidating the whole form. Then there were those Marines who changed beneficiaries every time they changed girlfriends. Everything else in the life of a Marine was more important than paperwork: until wartime.
Mack looked at Simone out the corner of his eye. He knew that look. He’d have to avoid making eye contact lest she begin her usual rant. He’d heard them all. He had a few of his own.
The new Admin Chief, Staff Sergeant Black, a tall slim guy with glasses – who bore a striking resemblance to a black Mr. Peanut down to the textured skin and round spectacles – was unusually calm. His demeanor helped set the tone for the rest of the staff. It was chaos on the other side of the counter, but the monotonous paperwork got completed with calm efficiency.
After the admin shop closed Staff Sergeant Black called all office staff together. The first to arrive at the meeting were Simone, Jamie and Amanda Velasquez. Jamie and Velasquez stood on one side and Simone stood on the other. The next to arrive was the unit diary clerk, Corporal Paul Bishop. Bishop was a wizard on the computer and the only married office personnel. He loved computers and he loved his job – so much so that he put in more hours in the office than even the admin chief. During the staff meeting Black explained that the advent of war meant longer workdays for all the work sections, including the admin office.
He said, “Effective tomorrow the admin office will remain open twenty-four hours a day in preparation for the upcoming deployment. There are two 12 hour shifts – from seven to seven.”
Everyone let out a simultaneous groan, except for Cpl. Bishop who appeared to have a small smile on his face. Black paused a moment surveying the anxious faces of the admin staff.
“Listen guys, this isn’t going to be easy for any of us, but I expect one hundred twenty percent from all of you.”
Mack shot a quick glance in Simone’s direction. She could tell they were thinking the same thing – they wanted Black to put them on the same shift. There was nothing worse than having to work a long shift with someone you couldn’t stand. Simone knew first hand. It happened to her once during guard duty. It was pure hell; just Simone and the other Marine pacing around the armory fighting sleep and shooting each other dirty looks.
Once the staff meeting concluded Simone saw Jamie and Velasquez heading over to Black’s desk, to coordinate their shifts. She eyed Mack who gave her a short nod letting her know he would be next in line to do the same for the two of them.
Simone was glad to be sharing a shift with Mack, but she was also a little sad that Jamie decided to pair up with Velasquez. It wasn’t that long ago she and Jamie were inseparable. That was before Velasquez came along.
****
Amanda Velasquez transferred to the admin office a year after Simone arrived. Rumor had it that Velasquez was a lesbian. She’d been assigned this title by the men of HqBtry. In the corps women were often labeled, usually it was either lesbian or slut. “Slut” meant you preferred to socialize with – not necessarily have sex with – male members of the corps. “Lesbian” meant you liked hanging with your girlfriends. Simone preferred the company of male Marines and her best friend was a male – ergo she was considered a slut. Of course there was a gray area – if a woman Marine dated men and happened to spend too much time in the company of “known” lesbians she became a lesbian by default.
Simone couldn’t have cared less if Velasquez was a lesbian – or a Presbyterian for that matter. The first day she met Velasquez she could tell she was a surly little thing with a bad attitude. When she approached the counter Simone was talking to a Sergeant who was attempting to flirt with her while updating his files. Out the corner of her eye she could see Velasquez giving her a disgusted look. She handed Simone her folder and then muttered something about being sick of women Marines who act like “their shit don’t stink.” Simone resisted the urge to cuss her out.
As she handed Velasquez back her file she looked her square in the eye and said, “If you’re feeling sick, I be glad to tell you exactly where you can go. Hell, I’ll even make sure you get there.”
Velasquez had a smart mouth, but so did Simone. She decided it was best if they gave each other wide berth. This wasn’t a problem since with the exception of work – and the one time they got assigned to the same guard duty shift – their paths seldom crossed.
Simone was more than happy to ignore Velasquez and so was Jamie – that is until the night they were both assigned to the same guard duty shift. Simone wasn’t privy to what went on during Jamie and Velasquez’ four-hour patrol, but Jamie came back with a new friend – Velasquez the evil troll. After that Jamie wanted the three of them to hang out and eat chow together. That might have been doable except for that fact that Velasquez and Simone still couldn’t stand each other.
Jamie tried to split her time as best she could between them. Things finally came to a head when Velasquez suggested Jamie move in with her. She said Simone had an “attitude problem.” Simone couldn’t believe her nerve – she had an attitude problem. She decided to show Velasquez an attitude problem.
Later that night she went to the admin office and proceeded to walk on top of Velasquez’ desk with her muddy boots. She even left her a note – which in retrospect was a bad idea – that said “fuck you and your attitude.” Bright and early the next morning she found herself standing tall in front of the commanding officer, Major Shaw.
“Lance Corporal Russell, why did you walk on Lance Corporal Velasquez’s desk?” he asked, seeming more amused than upset.
“I was upset, sir,” she answered, trying to suppress a smile.
“Well, Lance Corporal, next time you get upset go outside and rip up a bush or something – something less noticeable.”
Simone could have sworn she saw the commanding officer smile slightly as she walked out of his office. From that day on she and Velasquez were mortal enemies and every time they had a spat Velasquez would try to press charges. They were the same rank so the CO would devise some form of punishment for Simone – off the record – but he never brought her up on formal charges. Simone expected Jamie to take her side and ditch the hobbit once and for all. Instead her relationship with Velasquez grew stronger, while their relationship began to fall apart.
After Simone’s first run in with Velasquez, her relationship with Jamie continued to deteriorate. Jamie never mentioned the reason Velasquez disliked her, but she did let it slip once that Velasquez thought she was sleeping with Sgt. Black. She considered Simone’s DC trip to be confirmation. Both she and Jamie knew the real reason for the trip, but as far as Simone was concerned it was none of Velasquez’ business. She knew Jamie would never divulge her secrets, but she felt Velasquez was a bitch for making assumptions.
After the desk stomping incident, Simone made a point of telling Jamie she had better keep Velasquez away from her. Just because Jamie chose to be around her didn’t mean Simone had to. She never expected to arrive at her room after a long day of work to find Velasquez sitting on her bunk.
“Get the fuck out of my room,” Simone hissed.
“Fuck you, Jamie invited me,” she countered.
“Well, get the hell off my damn bed!”
“Whatever, bitch,” retorted Velasquez.
By the time Jamie emerged from the bathroom Simone was offering to “help” Velasquez leave. She had Velasquez by the back of the neck with one hand and was shoving her out of the door with the other.
“Simone, what are you doing? Take your hands off her!” Jamie ran over prying Simone’s hands off Velasquez. She shoved Simone causing her to fall to the floor.
“Amanda, are you okay?”
“Is she okay? What the fuck is she doing in our room? On my bed? I can’t believe you let the bitch in here.” Simone’s face was flush with rage.
Jamie glared at her. “What the hell is your problem, Simone? I asked Amanda to wait for me while I changed clothes. We were headed out to town.”
“I was hoping we could catch a flick,” Simone responded looking dejected.
“I can’t,” Jamie stammered shooting a glance at Velasquez. “We’ve got somewhere to go.”
“I bet,” Simone scoffed. “Well don’t let me keep you from your tryst.”
She walked over to the door flinging it open. They walked past Simone. Jamie looked hurt, but there was a smug self-satisfied look on Velasquez’ face. As she passed Simone she muttered the word “bitch.” Simone felt her face tighten as she yelled after her.
“The next time I catch your ass in my room I’m gonna fuck you up!” It was in that instance she caught sight of her first sergeant in the distance. Next thing she knew he was in front of her door.
“Lance Corporal, I expect to see you in my office at 0800 tomorrow.”
“Yes First Sergeant.” She glanced over his shoulder to see if Jamie and Velasquez were watching. Thankfully they had already left. After the first sergeant left, she locked up and headed to Wes’ barracks.
“Wes, open up. It’s me,” she called out as she banged on the door.
“Whoa, whoa, where’s the fire baby?”
He swung the door open. He’d obviously just gotten out of the shower. He was dressed in black boxers and his hair was slicked down on his head.
“I’m sorry. Where’s your roommate, Josh right?”
“He’s at his girl’s place out in town. What’s wrong baby girl?”
Simone was so mad she was crying. Tears streamed down her face.
“That fuckin’ Velasquez,” she answered sniffling, “thanks to her I got a date with the first sergeant.”
Wes pulled her over to his bed and sat her on his lap. “What happened? You didn’t walk on her desk again did you?”
“No,” Simone chuckled. The memory of that day still made her smile.
“I just told her I would fuck her up,” Simone mumbled.
“You what,” Wes laughed. “Girl you and that Jamaican temper.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Simone responded sheepishly, “I was provoked.”
“Okay, what provoked you?”
“Jamie had her in our room. I told her to keep her little pitbull out of our room.”
“It’s her room too baby and Velasquez is her friend.”
“She’s an evil Oompa Loompa,” Simone replied causing Wes to erupt into laughter.
“Remind me never to get on your bad side. Come here.” He pulled her into a warm embrace.
The next morning Simone reported to the first sergeants office as ordered. Her punishment was to go to the shotgun range, to cool her temper. As Simone felt the kick of the shotgun recoil slam into her hip bone and then her shoulder blade, she realized that she was truly being punished. By the end of the day her shoulder was aching and bruised. She returned from her mandatory trip to
****
The week after the staff meeting Simone and the rest of the admin office headed for her power of attorney and will writing class. Everyone in HqBtry had to attend these classes. They were held at the bleachers on the training field. Simone couldn’t believe she was learning about will writing and power of attorney. She thought these subjects were reserved for the wealthy or the terminally ill – or at the very least someone much older than her.
Simone found a seat between Mack and Michael Vitali. Vitali looked visibly nervous. His left leg was tapping uncontrollably. She placed her hand on his leg steadying it. He jumped up knocking over a cup of coffee onto the bleacher seat in front of him.
“Shit, shit, I didn’t get it on you, did I, Russ?
“No, I’m fine. Are you okay, Vitali?”
“This is bullshit,” he stared at the groups of Marines making their way to the bleachers. “I’m not going half way around the fucking world to fight for no oil.” His leg started to shake again.
“It’s not like we got a choice, Vitali.”
“Says you, I know a bunch of Marines claiming medical disability. I’ll find a way out.”
“You need to suck it up and quit ackin’ like a beyatch,” Mack chimed in.
Vitali was about to say something, but then he changed his mind. Mack lit a cigarette. Simone always hated when he smoked, even though he didn’t smoke all that much. It took him a week and a half to finish a pack. He gave away more than he smoked. She didn’t understand why he didn’t just quit. Simone was about to bring up the subject when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey, man, can I bum a smoke?” he asked.
“Yo, man, what I look like, a motherfucking corner store. Alright take one.” Then he mumbled, “Beggin’ ass mofo,” but the guy didn’t hear him.
“Thanks, man.”
That was Mack. His love for the ladies was proportionate to his dislike of the fellas. Admittedly, when it came to women, Mack’s taste was usually more discriminating than most, but even he would confess that he’d scraped the barrel a couple of times. He loved a challenge but he wouldn’t pass on an “easy piece”, which usually came back to haunt him. Like his experience with Cheryl. According to Mack, Cheryl was psycho. He met her in the Enlisted Club under dim lights and the influence of one too many beers. He went to sleep with Beauty and woke up with the Beast. He admitted that he was blinded by the booty, but by the time sunlight crept in it was too late. So he simply got up, dressed, and jetted back to base. For the next couple of weeks, he hid out in his friend’s room. Despite his doggish ways, Mack was Simone’s boy.
Mack hung out with the fellas, but he would be the first to tell you he didn’t trust men. He said brothers were sneaky and liable to try and creep with your girl – he ought to know. His motto was “If he’s got a dick, he’s a threat.” While he didn’t like Wes – or as he called him “that pretty white motherfucker” – he knew Simone loved him. And while Wes didn’t like Mack, he couldn’t ask for a better guard dog.
When Simone first met Mack she had just started dating Wes. Mack tried to push up, but after trying for a few months he got the message. Instead he concentrated his efforts on becoming her friend. He figured at least that way he might be in position to be the rebound guy.
Simone glanced over at Mack. She wouldn’t want him as her man, but he was her homeboy. His face was serious as he listened to the Marine instructor explain power of attorney. She also turned her attention to the instructor. He was throwing out terms like “notary public” and “living will.” When Simone enlisted it never occurred to her that she’d be headed to the
As she listened she thought about her own state of affairs. They were in order, after all Simone worked in the admin office. She made sure to leave everything to her sisters, but she was convinced her mother would find some way to get her hands on the little bit of money Simone would leave behind. She would have to be dead for that to happen. Simone told herself that she was worrying for nothing. No one actually said they were going to war. What was the big deal? It was just a deployment. But there was a voice in her head reminding her that this was no ordinary deployment.
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