Marine Corps Stories: Man First

By just stepping in from the relative coolness in San Diego on this autumn afternoon, Second Lieutenant Gentry Smith-Woods, twenty-three and standing at 5’9,” could tell that attitudes had changed. Some lights and tinsel and a mini Christmas tree adorned the walls and corner of the shop. His other Marine officers at the naval hospital busied themselves with aiding the ailing Marines and ensuring that they experienced the best of care and a smooth transition back into civilian life. Smith-Woods felt the tight grip of agitation surround his legs and shoot up towards his neck. It was like a serpent snaking its way through his body. The discomfort somehow motivated him. But doesn’t the lack of comfort always motivate a Marine?

He stepped through the hatches where everyone seemed focused on their tasks. But there remained time for banter.

“You didn’t read Tearing Down Tyranny by Colonel Brougham? You are the worst Marine I ever did see, Gentry,” Captain Ronaldo Reyes said. Aged twenty eight, he stood at about 5’10” and leaned back in his chair.

“Have you read about the Wind Talkers?” Smith-Woods retorted. “Or Montford Point?”

“No,” Reyes said his eyes lowered and his face darkened. He sat up straight in his chair. In a robotic voice he said, “No, I didn’t... because I don’t care.”

“That’s history of the Corps. You’re calling me the worst and you don’t even know your own history. How dare you, Ron?”

At that point Reyes and Smith-Woods stood up and faced each other.

“Alright, so I don’t have the knowledge on these specific instances in Marine Corps history. So what? We’re not even going to be flying missions in a few years. There are drones for that. I can brush up on my reading, sure, now that I don’t have to worry about piloting a jet in the future. But you’re still the worst for not knowing one of the most famous publications to ever be penned by a Devil Dog.”

Smith-Woods remained calm and his eyes stayed clear. “We’re at this hospital to get these junior Marines, predominantly, back into the real world. Whatever we may chide each other over should not prevent us from recognizing this fact. We can have a read-off anytime. So, while you’re trying to belittle me over a book that I have not read, I suggest that you consider the fact that our mission is to help these warriors who caught a bad one either physically or psychologically or both.”

These words stunned Reyes. “As an officer of the United States Marine Corps and Captain of Marines, I must say bravo to you, Gentry. I think that you’re right. There is a selfish pleasure in knowing that we are fulfilling our roles as the leaders of these men and women in the finest fighting force the world has ever seen. But you’re still the worst.”

Smith-Woods remained unfazed. “I can be the worst Marine...for now. I plan on being a general one day.”

“Ha.”

“I’m serious. I’ll earn it. Not through graft or pull but through sheer will and smart work. I’ll attain that title, even if I am the worst Marine in uniform. I’m still a man first, anyway.”

“A what?”

“I’m a man first. I’ve achieved the title of Marine and an officer at that. But prior to becoming these things I stepped into the shoes of manhood. Through all of the years of schooling and months of training to become the Few and the Proud, I can say that I have a firm grasp on my position as a lowly butter bar. But these ranks were made for climbing. And I intend to scale Everest and reach the summit.”

“Yes, that all sounds cute, but no master guns is going to respect you. He or she is probably not even going to salute you. All the schooling and training scampers away and in comes the reality that you may be an officer but you’ll be looked down upon...quickly. I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve had it happen to me when I was fresh out of TBS.”

“I can tell you one thing,” Smith-Woods said. “I’m going to pursue my goals with the full knowledge that I still have time to read the books, work on my pistol marksmanship, and be a better leader all to prove to myself that I am worthy.”

“You have a good start, Gent,’” Reyes said.

“I know.”

The hatch opened and a slight breeze entered the shop. Master Gunnery Sergeant Kevin Harrington offered a “good afternoon gentlemen” and quickly moved to his shop a few feet away. The two officers returned the greeting of the day. They looked at each other like two brothers who had both won a bet and resumed their tasks.