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Marine Corps Stories: Opportune

A lance corporal shrugs.

By Skyler SaundersPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
2

The sky streaked pinkish gray, similar to the ever coveted pink mist. It was about seventy degrees at eight in the morning despite it still being just spring. That’s desert weather, though.

“You’re off of the range,” Sergeant Grace Faulkner said.

“So, I’m off of the range. I’m crushed. My life has ended, now,” Lance Corporal Johnston Hayesford said in a monotone voice with a widening smirk on his face. He turned away from Grace.

Corporal Marc “Dom” Dominguez stood next to his junior Marine.

Hayesford simply walked away from both the primary marksmanship instructor (PMI), Grace and Dominguez.

Before any of this happened, Hayesford cracked wise (if you can call it that) during the snap in session. While Marines zeroed their rifles and studied their targets on a white and black barrel during a dry fire, Hayesford continued to make the Marines around him laugh. He wasn’t key-keying but they laughed at every word he said. He spouted no real jokes. No set up. No punchline. Just streams of humorous and witty barbs that emitted from his mouth like beer from a tap. Hayesford didn’t even find these words funny. He remained all business. The other Marines around him howled. Now, he had other plans.

“Hayesford! Hayesford! Where are you going?” Dominguez asked.

While walking away he said, “to get some breakfast, Dom.”

Faulkner returned to the other Marines who had been laughing.

“He wasn’t funny, goddamnit. You all act like he was some kind of goddamn comedian. Well, it isn’t funny. We’re here to do a job and to do it well. If he wants to gaff off, let him. You Marines will be able to qual in a few days and either keep or possibly upgrade your status as riflemen. He’ll be pushing a mop wondering why he didn’t pick up corporal.”

Dominguez started his car and followed Hayesford. But he was far from the area that they used to train with rifles. He had reached the diner on base. He ordered two eggs, two pancakes, and six bacon and a coffee–black. As he chowed down on his victuals, Dominguez walked through the door. He spotted Hayesford at the counter.

“What the hell was that, John’?”

“What was what?”

“You know what I mean?”

“Oh, that complete bullshit call that Sergeant Faulkner issued this morning. Is that what you’re talking about?”

Dominguez frowned. “Gunny’s not going to like this,” he said.

Hayesford swallowed another bite.

“I think Gunny has bigger things to worry about than a junior enlisted warrior not attaining the repute of rifle expert. Look, in Boot’ all that I was told was that I needed to ‘loosen up, I needed to loosen up.’ I actually went to my PMI, I even said the whole title, I said, ‘Good morning Primary Marksmanship Instructor Sergeant Tull. I’m having trouble out here.’ And you know what he said? ‘Loosen the hell up. Have fun out there. Don’t worry about qualifying. It’s just a time to be relaxed on that range. If you get too pent up with anxiety, you’re going to crack up,’ he said.”

“But that was Boot.’ This is the Fleet. The stakes are a lot higher, now. You should be focused on picking up corporal and at least completing your four years. I’m not going to chew you out. I’m actually waiting for Staff Sergeant Ferguson to do the honors.”

“It would be a delight,” Hayesford said with another chomp on a piece of bacon.

“Look, you’re not going to be able to qualify again for another few months. You might even pick up. You might. But you’ll still look like you want to feed a family of four with that pizza box on your chest.”

“Ah, well,” Hayesford sipped from his coffee.

“C’mon. I’ll take you back to the shop.”

“I’m not going yet. I’ll go when the time is opportune.”

“Okay, but you’ve just dug your hole even deeper.”

“Yes and now I will lay in it.”

Hayesford paid for his meal and continued to sip his coffee. Dominguez left out of the diner in a huff. Hayesford sipped slowly. He took in the Americana scenes around the diner: A sailor dipping his girlfriend for a kiss; a recruiting poster from World War I; some kids collecting autographs from a Medal of Honor recipient. Hayesford got up from the counter and left an appropriate tip and departed from the diner.

He felt the warm day turn into another hot one in just an hour’s time. He shrugged and then inhaled from an e-cigarette at a nearby smoke pit. He slid on his shades and sat back and wondered if he’d be a lance corporal for the rest of his life.

marine corps
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Skyler Saunders

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