Marine Corps Stories: Decent

From the outer glass they waved. The Small Wonder Living Community in Newark, Delaware featured the families of the couple. Masks covered faces making the onlookers look like they were preparing to conduct lab experiments. The couple inside smiled and waved.

“This is what date number one looks like,” Hamner Nakamura said. He continued to wave at the people outside.

“It’s a lot different from my first first date. Did the young woman get the wine?” Agnes Addison asked.

They’re working on it. They’re using the one that’s reserved for Communions. I haven’t had a drop of it.”

“Me either,” Agnes chuckled.

“So you were one of the first black female Marines?” Nakamura asked.

“That’s right, Third Battalion, Platoon 6-B aboard Parris Island.”

Nakamura smiled. “I entered the War as a first lieutenant in the Army. One of the only Japanese officers in my unit.” He looked up to find a smiling young nurse with a bottle of wine.

“We felt that this was kind of special, so we present to you a bottle of Merlot,” Nurse Angelica Casewell said. She opened the bottle and poured a glass for the couple.

“Enjoy, you two,” Angelica said.

Nakamura proposed a toast. “To history and tomorrow.” They clinked glasses, swirled, sniffed and sipped slowly.

“I like that,” Agnes said. She placed her glass on the table. “So why aren’t you at the VA?”

“You know, I was going to ask you the same thing. I knew that they would be ‘dry’ and unaccommodating to my taste for wine and fine spirits.”

“I know. I like to have a sip of something now and again!”

They both laughed. “But this private facility is ideal for more than just having a drink, although this Merlot is hitting the spot.”

Nakamura sipped. “While I was in uniform doing my worst to the Japanese Imperialists, my family were in an internment camp. So much for the great president, FDR.”

Agnes sipped and shook her head. “I was wearing my uniform, decorated like a Christmas tree in WWII. I had to break up a fight between two white private Marines and one black private. My chest candy looked almost melted afterwards. I was a sergeant and outranked them all. The two white Marines ran off, and the black private needed a trip to the hospital. He recovered but it was a scary time.”

Nakamura swirled the glass again. “I got off a train in my uniform, and a white corporal failed to salute me. I said, ‘You’re supposed to salute a superior officer, corporal.’ He spit on my shoe. I started to charge him. Then a black major walked up to both of us. We both saluted. ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked. Then he looked at my shoe and before the corporal could run away, he contained him and took his name and serial number for nonjudicial punishment. I felt so powerless at home.”

Agnes nodded. “I’ll be ninety-seven in November. I’ve seen my fair share of ugliness in the Corps, but also beauty. I was able to advance all the way up to gunny in Korea. I engaged in trade with the South Koreans. That’s what sparked my interest in business.”

“I achieved lieutenant colonel,” he replied.

“Well, well,” Agnes said.

“But the pain from the Second War lingered until I saw some action in Korea and Vietnam. I was a battalion commander of an outfit over there in ‘Nam. But I didn’t get the full respect, still.” He sipped some more.

Agnes shook her head. “If racism didn’t have such a brutal, vicious past, it would be laughable. Just to consider that a certain amount of melanin and hair texture or the way our eyes are set determines whether we can be treated in a decent way is hard to take. It would be a laugh riot without all of the hangings and lynchings and beatings.” She sniffed her glass and sipped.

“We made it, though. I’ll be one hundred and six in June. And we’re able to enjoy this wine and know that we triumphed over evil.”

“I can agree to that,” Agnes said. “Cheers.”