Marine Corps Stories: Toy Warriors

During the Christmas season, the Marines handed out toys for the youngsters. Each of them wore their Dress Blue uniforms and looked like toy warriors ready to lend a helping hand to those who deserved it. The children had to have maintained excellent marks in school and not started any behavioral issues. The entire affair took place in a warehouse with gigantic fans. Warmth from the heaters wrapped around the occupants like a comforter. But not all Marines held the holiday cheer. In a nearby restroom, two Marines aired their differences.

“You’re getting a little too cozy with the civilians, Le’Von,” Corporal Trevell Grunson said. Sergeant Le’Von Harp’s eyebrows raised and his voice bellowed. “You know how it goes, ‘No better friend….’”

“You’re smiling and laughing and forgetting about your bearing. You’re in uniform. Act like it.”

“So Scrooge now wears Blues, I see,” Harp said.

Grunson bristled. “I’m telling you this once, get rid of all the cheer. It’s not fitting for a Marine in uniform. Sure, flash a quick smile but that’s it. You’re getting out of hand.”

“I’ll be goddamned. Let me tell you something, Grunson. I actually have a mind for this time of the year. It’s a joyous period for all men to realize fun and good will and that the world is still here for the taking. So don’t give me that tripe about being too jolly. We should be rejoicing every day that we still have life and limb and mind and people that support us. What’s your goddamn problem?”

Grunson got right in Harp’s face. A vein in his forehead seemed like it would burst at any second.

“Get it together,” Grunson said as he washed his hands and burst through the door to the restroom.

Harp washed his hands and then went back to the grind. Yes, still Marines remained on the clock serving those little ones who achieved something this past year. Harp was unfazed. He enjoyed the exchange of virtue for material value. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a crumpled up red and white suit. A Santa suit! he exclaimed in his head. After dispensing a handful of goodies to some fortunate kids, Harp ventured over to the scarlet getup. He looked around and quickly donned it. He searched for a cover to match the costume. He found it. He grinned. He returned to where the vast majority of people had gathered to trade. Sure, he didn’t have the classic snow boots but his corframs would have to do.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Harp called out as he walked near the men, women, and children. Grunson grimaced but remained silent. All of the little tykes rushed to Harp like red blood cells streaming through blood vessels.

“And what do you want, little girl?” Harp asked a young lady of about eight-years-old.

“I want a toy rifle!” She said with glee in her eyes.

“Looks like we have a future rifle expert on our hands,” Harp said. Next, Grunson had ceased his involvement with the other Marines at his station and marched over to where the kids and Harp stood.

Grunson grabbed Harp and brought him back to the restroom.

“What the royal hell, ‘Von?!”

“You don’t have a say in it. Unless Gunny or First Sergeant Tarr or Captain Sullivan says something about it, I’m going to continue making joy. Instead of being a miserable bastard, why don’t you try it out for a change?” Harp walked past him with confidence and out to the warehouse. Grunson’s face looked like a front end of a wrecked car involved in a head-on collision. He just stood there mumbling and fuming.

Meanwhile, Harp’s smile stretched across his visage like a rubber band. He embraced the young people once more.