Marine Corps Stories: MAIT

Donned in his olive green trousers and tan short sleeve shirt, a Marine made a case. “I swear that this red stripe here,” Staff Sergeant Rudolf Colter said, “I’ve earned it.”

Master Gunnery Sergeant Vallia Corben re-checked the computer. She came up with no stripe.

“I’m sorry, Colter, but I’m still showing that you have no stripe on your black belt.”

“Respectfully, Master Guns, I think you can check again.”

“Staff Sergeant Colter, I assure you that there is no proof of you having earned your instructor belt.”

Colter sighed. “I see.” Colter got up from his seat.

“Permission to leave, Master Guns.”

Colter went to his car and tossed out his glove department’s contents. He searched his phone for pictures of him completing the course for his instructor’s belt. That little red stripe on a black belt meant so much. He ran back to Vallia. “Master Guns,” Colter said. He saw Lance Corporal Dehaven Merrick.

“Hey, Staff Sergeant.”

“Where’s Master Guns?”

“She went home for the night.”

“Goddamnit.”

Colter went back to his car and then to his apartment off-base. He looked for certificates and anything that could be of some use to him. He shuffled through neat stacks of documents. He searched his entire apartment. He remembered something, the proof could be in his phone.

Colter swiped and swiped until he came across a picture of him holding up the certificate. A photo of him receiving his red stripe appeared. His head just shook in agreement.

“Babe, what do you want for—” His girlfriend Selma started.

“I’ve found it.”

“Found what?”

“My instructor trainer belt.”

“Babe. I’m trying my best to keep up with all the jargon but help me out with this one.”

“It’s my MCMAP, that’s the martial arts program, it’s the belt.”

“I’ve seen you wear it to the ceremony where your instructor gave it to you.”

“He didn’t give it to me, sweetheart. I earned it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Get over here.”

The two embraced.

“I’ve got to get back on base a little earlier to check with Master—a senior Marine.”

“You were going to say master guns. I do know that.”

“I’ve gotta get up early so I can catch her.”

That next morning, Colter summoned all of his fortitude and entered the office of the master gunnery sergeant.

“Good morning, Master Guns.”

“Good morning, Colter.”

“I have proof that I earned my MAIT—” He slammed his belt on her desk.

“I was digging through the records before you came in and noticed that a glitch in the system had prevented me from retrieving the necessary information. Needless to say, your data came up and showed me this.” She pointed to the belt and to the screen which read that Colter in fact had earned his Martial Arts Instructor’s Training belt.

“You see, it’s these goddamn computers always gumming up things,” Vallia said.

Colter just shook his head. “That’s why I could fix it for you.”

“You’ve got computer skills, Colter?”

“I certainly do Master Guns.”

“So you can get some serious martial arts going all while knocking out bugs in a computer?”

“Both with speed.”

“Forgive me, Colter, for the snafu yesterday. It’s not like I didn’t believe you. I just wanted to make sure that everything matched up well.”

“You certainly have the toolbox and the hands and feet put together. I wouldn’t mind seeing you train my husband. Poor thing, he’s been taking kickboxing classes. You might be able to show him what punches and kicks to throw. It might not be on the level of a MAIT, but he might come close.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Staff Sergeant Colter said.