Marine Corps Stories: Bust’ Down

“I just bought a bust’ down,” Sergeant Whittaker Simms said.

“That’s nice. Is it for your wife?” Sergeant Alita Donnen asked.

“Hell, no. That watch is for me. It’s got diamonds dancing. I traded it in for a plain Jane. I’m glad about it.”

They both laughed. Simms must’ve been about 6’2” and Alita was 5’6”. Simms had medium brown skin, and Alita had blue-black dark skin. Her cammies did her shapely figure no favors.

Simms had a muscular build with bulging biceps and trapezia. They had both been assigned to watch those with the rank of lance corporal and below fill up sandbags and run them from one side of the base front to the other.

“You know the rumor, right?” Alita asked.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a bit of hearsay that’s passed around from person to person.”

“I know what a rumor is, Alita. Goddamn.”

“I know. I just wanted to screw with your head. Anyway, word is one of these boots transferred from another unit. He was a corporal who got bust’ down.”

“No shit?”

“Absolutely.”

“What’d he do?”

“Word around town is he went UA in the XO’s truck, picked up strippers and just went bucwild. That’s the rumor anyway.”

“How’d he get in the truck?”

“The XO always kept it open, and since this corporal was his admin bitch, he knew the XO’s family, and of course the truck he drives. By being around him all the time, he must’ve just picked up on tiny details, like when the vehicle was likely to be unlocked, or where the XO kept his keys.”

“Damn. What’s his—” Simms started to speak but soon noticed a PFC lugging sack after sack of the granules, the color of which matched their cammies. The junior Marines moved with great precision, and one Marine was trying to give orders to the others.

“Hey, ‘Devil,” Simms said. Alita trailed him in a smooth glide. Her sunglasses reflected the solar rays just so. “We’re the ones issuing orders around here, PFC Haggard.”

PFC Haggard stood at parade rest. Simms smiled. Alita stepped forward and asked a question.

“So you’re the bust’ down one, huh?”

Haggard remained silent.

“The Sergeant of Marines asked you a question, PFC. You will respond accordingly,” Simms said.

“Yes, Sar’ent.”

“Goddamn!” Sergeant Donnen burst out laughing.

“You really went joyriding in the XO’s car?”

“Yes, Sar’ent.” Haggard looked straight at Simms with an even stare, like a sniper trying to hit a target 2,000 yards away.

“I don’t mean to laugh, but damn. You went down to PFC? Was it a prank gone wrong or were you jonesing for a cruise with some whores in heels?” Alita asked.

“I just wanted to see if I could get away with it,” Haggard said.

“Better pick up that sandbag, Haggard,” Simms said.

“Aye, Sar’ent.” Haggard, without a cammie blouse, and wearing a green shirt like the rest of the junior Marines, lifted the sack and lugged it over to the other side of the base front.

“Jesus, ‘Lita, you didn’t have to embarrass the man,” Simms said finally.

“What? He did some old outlandish shit, and you’re coming at me for his dumb ass?” Alita asked.

“I’m just saying you could’ve been a bit more diplomatic.”

“He could’ve been more diplomatic by not stealing a field officer’s vehicle and going on a booby run.”

Then, a lance corporal fell out from the Saudi Arabian heat. Haggard stepped over to the Marine before Simms and Alita could get there. Haggard offered some water from his waterpack. The one time corporal helped the Marine to his feet. Simms and Alita sent the dehydrated Marine to the sick bay.

Simms and Alita walked up to Haggard.

“You’ve still got that NCO in you, don’t you?” Alita asked.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

The “bust’ down” then took off running with other lower level Marines.