Marine Corps Stories: The Might

The beauty of the marriage between rifleman and rifle still intrigued Sergeant Lionel Hanes. He cleaned his rifle regularly with as much care and precision as washing an infant. As an infantry Marine, he became adjusted to the devastation in Iran. He and his fellow Grunt Devil Dogs observed the massive destruction of the bombings.

“Goddamn we did a number on these towns,” Corporal Lateisha Spruell said. She boasted light skin and even lighter hazel-gray eyes.

“And very few if any of the so-called ‘innocent civilians’ were harmed,” said Lance Corporal Evan Isler. His babyface features made him look even younger than his twenty one years. He was right. The bombs had hit the places where the Iranians made weapons, manufactured clothing, a great many civilian homes sat (that had been emptied) and stored goods to aid the army.

“We’ll bring it to them next time. If there is a next time for them,” Hanes said. “We can take out a civilian or two. It’s no big deal, but it’s just not necessary,” he said.

Like an alarm screaming in their minds, the other Marines thought about answering the sergeant but held back.

“If we had taken civilian lives, it would have been on the hands of the Iranian government. Not ours. It may have been a wise decision for General Wainwright. You see,” he said as he turned to his junior Marines in the armored vehicle. “The idea is to disrupt, destroy, and punish the enemy psychologically. If we had hit civilians...that would’ve been a plus to us, obviously. But the damage that we’ve done here is admirable. It works. Not only that, it’s moral. To take away the mindset for victory for the military and civilians alike is the main goal in all of warfare.”

He sat in the passenger or “A” driver's seat. His inkwell black skin and bald head became obscured by his tan camouflage uniform. His eyes remained two dots of fossil fuel: black and glistening as oil. He sipped from an energy drink.

“Sar’ent?,” said Isler.

“What’s that, Isler?”

“I’m wondering if the fight can be taken to us for hitting them so hard,” he said.

Hanes laughed a dry, crackling laugh. “With what? We’re the tip of the spear. We brought war to them and it took just a few hours to occupy this section of a hellhole. With the number of casualties so low, and their incapacity to make war, the enemy has no way of attacking America. They should be willing to become allies if anything. What it comes down to is our advanced culture over their primitive way of life.”

Lateisha sucked her teeth. “I wish I could have seen them slap those bombs down here. The people running. Screaming. I wish I could have been a safe away distance to observe the hysteria,” she said.

Hanes sipped from his energy drink. “I know what you mean ‘Teish’. If I could just feel the warmth of the blaze that encircled these installations…. I would have loved to see the faces of the people that chanted “Death to America!” Now, they’re ready to jump on our side and be given freebies from our government. It’s a good thing that the welfare state has been dismantled.”

“Amen,” Isler said.

“One of the best ways to know whether you’ve won a war or not is to display to the world that you are not barbarians. You must show that the goal is to be swift and unrelenting. We should be crushing. Everything that our parents, teachers, and preachers taught us about sharing and caring and loving the enemy is all nonsense. War should be about going in, breaking the will of the enemy and civilians, and coming home with the least amount of deaths and those injured on our side. Not reckless slaughter,” Hanes said. Now, he returned to cleaning his rifle.

“I wanted to see the Supreme Leader cower in fear as the bombs dropped on his stronghold,” Isler said with glee. “I mean ‘Supreme Leader.’ What kind of crackpot calls himself that?”

Lateisha giggled. “Any man crazy enough to be that self-absorbed deserves his death. I’m just glad that we got him.”

“And that’s all that it takes. We are proud and selfish, not narcissistic and selfless. Because so many civilian lives were spared and the two-bit military fell, now there can be a revolution to install a constitutional republic. If ever that dissolves into another dictatorship and makes threats against the US, I will shed no tears if the civilians stand in the crosshairs.”

Isler looked outside of the vehicle and saw the sun setting. It was like witnessing a closing to an act in a play. Once again, the Marines’ journey continued.