marine corps
The Marine Corps - the military arm of the US Navy. A country's fate and freedom lies in the hands of this band of brothers and sisters.
Two Months
The warm weather of Hawaii was like a salve to the Marines who had just come home from deployment. Christmas decorations and lights strung on palm trees swaying in the breeze created a welcoming experience. The sergeants had formed an alliance while in a combat zone and had even gained the sincere respect of their junior Devil Dogs. Two sergeants in particular remained Ferdinand and Steele. Sergeant Ferdinand was damn near blue black. He had curly hair from his Hispanic side and razor bumps from his African-American side. Steele was a few shades lighter and completely African-American. He possessed no razor bumps. The former stood at about 5'8" and the latter walked around at 6' even.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Mullin's Billet
Throws, kicks, and holds ruled the day at the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program (MCMAP) grounds. First Lieutenant John Jarwish, Sergeant Anna Clifton, and Corporal Benny Mullins all convened on this area replete with shredded up tire pieces. Corporal Mullins took over the proceedings. He ensured that each Marine folded his or her cammie blouse neatly just adjacent to where they would be practicing. After a round of stretching, the three of them looked forward to that day of advancement.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Every Marine
Water gurgled from the spigot. The yellow mop bucket received the flow as it splashed into the container. Blond hair and blue eyed Lance Corporal Reese Young and dark skinned PFC Tanasia Cunningham held onto their mops like scepters. Reese had a small face with little dimples in her cheeks. Tanasia had a small nose, no acne or freckles. Each wore the same medium hair length haircuts. Once the water had reached the appropriate level, Reese turned off the faucet and proceeded to bring the mops and bucket to their shop.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
A Talk with the Chaps
On the way to the shop, Lance Corporal Glynn Caldwell walked with a purpose. During this season of trading, he became in the festive mood. He had just finished putting up lights with Lance Corporal Cagney Reynolds and they added a tiny Christmas tree. He would receive his fifth consecutive outstanding for barracks room cleanliness. He reached the entry place and flashed his watch and stepped into his shop.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Put into Action
Four-star Marine Corps General and Joint Chiefs of Staff Chair, Bega Roylance ironed his uniform. His service Alphas, his Bravos, “Chucks,” and cammies all could’ve been serviced by a lance corporal or even a corporal. No. Instead, he got up at two in the morning and pressed all of his garments and affixed his rank insignia and awards and ribbons to his uniform. Then he ran. He wore his New Sweden University sweatshirt where he graduated with a degree in Strategic Studies. Now, in PT shorts, he ran three miles in nineteen minutes. He may have been fifty-eight, but he was no joke out there on the course. Like a cheetah sprinting on the Serengeti, Roylance shot down the last turn. He breathed.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Love and Ammo Cans
MARPAT desert uniforms blended into the sand like copperhead snakes that slither over the landscape. The Marines took a knee. Lieutenant Colonel Whitford used a handsfree microphone in the blasted heat. He spoke with his hands always returning to a stance with his feet shoulder width apart pointing out board and his left hand over his right almost in a praying display around his navel.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Where Their Chevrons Lay
He stood there like a monolith. Black as a clump of rare earth elements. He stood at the position of attention. His camouflage uniform looked slightly shabby. Some parts seemed pressed and in order while great patches looked ruffled and unkempt. He rolled his sleeves tightly, though. Silence pervaded the room of about eight other junior Marines, privates and privates first class (PFC) mainly. The hatch to the place swung open and Staff Sergeant Henley, aged twenty seven, also blue black in appearance, stepped up to the young PFC standing at attention. This was PFC Cartwright. Tears streaked his dark skin.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
Proper Bearing
The heat of the parking garage enveloped the Marines. Lance Corporal Stevenson Swinton worked his biceps, his triceps, his tapezius, his core. Sweat dropped like shell casings from a M240. Other lance corporals and corporals operated in similar fashion. Every move remained swift and precise. The idea was to get buff, sure. But the real reason behind all of this lifting, squatting, pressing, and yes sweating was to be the best Body Bearers. Swinton dropped the two hundred and twenty five pound bar on the bench press. He looked up at his platoon guide. A smirk found its way onto his face.
By Skyler Saunders6 years ago in Serve
