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Marine Corps Stories: Individual Experiences May Vary

One of the President's Own gets called into combat

By Skyler SaundersPublished 4 years ago 6 min read
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The blast of sound swept through the hall. Brass, woodwind, strings, and percussion enveloped the listeners as they remained attentive to every note. Keen ears could only try to pick out missed notes or sour sounds. None showed up in the President’s Own United States Marine Corps Band. The red and white uniforms looked as sharp as bloody daggers. Their movements sliced through the minds of the audience and permitted them to experience the grandeur and the splendor of the music. Corporal Loren Rolle didn’t just play the sousaphone, he embodied it. The full, resonance blended with the rest of the band.

He had gone through training at Parris Island and then the School of Infantry. At a chance encounter, he discovered the Marine Band online and decided that he didn’t want to be a grunt but a musician. He shot well. An expert badge clung to his uniform like a shiny reminder to his skills in the field. He ran well. His time for a three mile run lasted under eighteen minutes. He could execute nineteen pull-ups. His scores on written tests remained exceptional. He held all of the trappings of a well-rounded infantry Marine. As an 0311, he had prepared himself for the worst situations. Never did he think that he would actually put those skills to use as a band member. Gunnery Sergeant Rick Pepper called Rolle over to his desk.

“You’ve got orders. And don’t fret. You know how it goes. ‘Needs of the Marine Corps’ and all.”

“What are you saying, Gunny?”

“They want you in the field. They want you to put down your Sousaphone and pick up a rifle.”

Rolle never moved. He became an ice cube. His demeanor remained cool but something was melting away at him.

“Yes, Gunny,” Rolle said. “I understand.”

“You’re supposed to be one of the last deployments to Iran before the big withdrawal. The generals are busy framing the Constitution of Iran and also Saudi Arabia. But you don’t have to worry about the Saudis.”

“That’s a relief,” Rolle said with a grin.

Rolle looked at his brass instrument. The valves sparkled. The bell of the horn seemed to whisper, “I’ll see you, good friend.” Rolle shut the large case as if closing a casket: deliberate, slow, with solemnity.

While stationed in Iran with the grunts, he earned ire, respect, animosity, and resentment.

“Don’t think that you can just come up in here band boy. We’re all in this as one body. One blood. Whatever you think about your days in the band means nothing here. I’ve lost two guys. One had half his face blown off. I don’t want to hear your sob stories about how you miss dress whites and those goddamn red coats you wear. Out here is lower than hell. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

“Good. Now, play something for me.”

“But my horn’s––”

“I know I’m just ribbing you. Go with the other grunts. We’re shipping out in 1500.”

Most of the landscape remained devastated by American bomb blasts. The soil looked greenish yellow and trash blew in the wind. Dirt roads became obstructions that hindered the armored car with Staff Sergeant Hertz Jenkins, Lance Corporal Regina Singh, and Rolle.

“Colonel Marsh is now Brigadier General Marsh. I don’t want to hear any talk about her being a colonel,” Jenkins said.

“Aye, Staff Sar’ent,” Singh and Rolle echoed each other.

“What we’re doing out here is all her plan. We are to just maintain the interests of America. Whatever the Iranians wanted to do to create a nuclear arsenal, we have been instructed to destroy.”

“Roger that,” Rolle said. Then, some small arms fire attempted to pierce the armor. Rolle laughed. He pointed his rifle right at his target with the weapon and shot him like a deer hunter. Next, the armored truck ran over a two hundred pound improvised explosive device. The armor was not enough and it shredded the vehicle in two. The sound reverberated in each of the minds. Getting blown up sounded like two diesel trains smashing into each other at full speed. Staff Sergeant Jenkins died on the spot. Regina sustained some shrapnel to her arms and legs. Rolle encountered shrapnel to his face, just missing his eyes.

He pulled both Jenkins and Regina from what remained of the vehicle. He then laid down fire. In his mind, all he could hear was the sound of the band. Sonorous and blending, the notes rang across his mind instead of the rounds that rained down on him. His sure shot drove the enemy to find cover.

“Can you shoot?” Rolle asked Regina.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m going to pull you behind what’s left of the vehicle, okay?”

“Okay.”

An insurgent came into plain view. Regina lifted up her rifle and shot him in between the eyebrows. Another one sprang up but Rolle snatched his soul with a two shots to the chest. A jihadist then lobbed a grenade at the two Marines. Rolle ripped off a piece of the door which barely held to the hinges and shielded he and Regina from the blast. Rolle low crawled to get to Staff Sergeant Jenkins’ communicator. He dragged his body over to where he and Regina lay.

Just as he reached the base, two jihadists raised up and put rounds into Rolle’s face. By thinking, Regina hit both of them in their foreheads. She staggered through extreme anguish, pain coursing through her body like a disease. She picked up the comms unit and radioed in for support. In time, two drones pinpointed the jihadist stronghold and sent two missiles towards them, obliterating their location.

Regina pulled herself closer to Rolle and Jenkins. As flames licked at the surrounding buildings, she still pulled the both of them together behind what was left of the armored vehicle. A ground crew including two Corpsman found their way to where Regina lay bleeding.

“Doc, you’ve got to try to save them.”

“They’re gone, Singh. You just stay relaxed. I’m going to pull some of this shrapnel from your appendages, okay?” HM2 Dado Glowzenski said.

“Yes.” Her head glided all the way back and she looked up at the greenish gray sky.

“Alright, we’re going to get you over to the urgent care unit.”

After Regina had been in her hospital bed for a few days, Brigadier General Raquel Marsh presented her with a Purple Heart and Silver Star.

“Thank you, ma’am. Staff Sar’ent wanted to be a lawyer. And Corporal Rolle just loved his sousaphone.”

“Yes, Lance Corporal. And you did your best to save their lives. And although they fell, both men perished knowing that their legacies will live on throughout the Corps forever. Semper Fidelis, Singh.”

‘Thank you again, ma’am.”

In time, Regina’s physical wounds healed. Most of the shrapnel in her body saw removal and the remaining bits did not pose a major threat to her health. She attended the ceremonies honoring the two men with which she fought. The Judge Advocate General presented a special award for the family of Staff Sergeant Jenkins. The Marine Corps Band played the Marine Corps Hymn with such somber honor as Rolle’s family received his prized sousaphone.

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