Marine Corps Stories: WSNB

Three Marines busy themselves before an inspection. They find a moment to rest and still talk about business.

“I’m trying to get rid of my WSNB account,” Lance Corporal Menlo Haggis said.

“You know what it really stands for, don’t you?” Staff Sergeant Geoff Caylor said.

“What’s that Staff Sar’ent?”

“Will Steal N– Bankrolls,” Caylor said.

Haggis gave out a hearty chortle.

“That’s why I bank with Columbian Federal Credit Union. I could show you the steps to get an account.”

“Thanks, Staff Sar’ent,” Haggis said. “Later, though.”

The two Marines returned to their tasks. Caylor twenty-seven-years-old, about 5’8”, cedar skinned and a high fade continued to fill out reports and prepare for the inspection coming up.

Haggis, nimble and the color of oak, aged twenty, grabbed his wash rag and bottle of all-purpose cleaner. He saw Private Douglas Vaughn, chestnut colored and eighteen come in from the hangar.

“Hey, Vaughn,” Haggis called.

“Yes, Lance Corporal.”

“Clean off the typewriter and laptops and all of the surfaces. Take this bottle and cloth and finish up this room.” Caylor never even lifted his head. He became so involved in the work that he tuned out the junior Marines.

Then, Gunnery Sergeant Oliver Jop burst through the hatches with a force that almost shook off the door frames. He rested his motorcycle helmet down on his desk.

“Good morning, Gunny,” Caylor said. The two younger Marines responded the same.

“We’ve got this inspection coming up, gents. I don’t want a goddamn thing unsquared away, you understand that?”

“Yes, Gunny,” the three Marines chimed.

Jop stood at about 6”3’ and boasted built up muscles that bulged through his cammies. His skin displayed the color of pine. He once served as a Drill Instructor which he carried the same timbre and mannerisms now as an administrative specialist. All three of the Marines under him had slight flashbacks of Boot.

“If we get an outstanding on this inspection, drinks for you,” he pointed at Caylor, “are all on me. I will pay for all your meals,” he turned to Haggis and Vaughn.

A sense of euphoria arose in the three Devil Dogs under Jop’s words.

“Let’s see to it that we deep clean these walls, have every paper in order, and clean up all that trash you’ve got piled over there, Haggis. I don’t know why in the world you’ve got to keep all of that mess on your desk. Fix it!”

“Aye, Gunny,” Haggis said. He looked at Vaughn and mouthed, “That’s on you.” The private silently acknowledged, “yes.”

“Now, I’ve got to meet with the Top. If I get back here and none of the things that I just said are done, you’re going to be eating your covers. You understand that?”

“Yes, Gunny,” they all said.

“Hey, Haggis,” Caylor said.

“Yes, Staff Sar’ent.”

“Why don’t you take those records and reorganize them. I know that they’ve got to be in disarray. We just walk up to the filing cabinet and put them away all willy-nilly.”

“Aye, Staff Sar’ent. This time, Haggis didn’t push the duty onto his lower stationed Leatherneck. He picked up the slack while Vaughn became a jewel inspector; he polished and shined every inch of the work space. Blood rose in each of their throats as they honed in on their specific modes of attention. Sweat trickled down their foreheads like beetles crawling down the side of a tree. All of their efforts did not rest on the reward or the punishment. They remained important, but that’s not why they did their jobs with such fervor and incisiveness. Their core competence propelled them to the best work possible no matter the outcome. They knew that it was the activity of rearranging elements to fit their own standard of beauty and cohesiveness that drove them.

Jop returned to his desk with Master Sergeant or “Top” Fredro Compton and First Lieutenant Kirk Dunn. The three Marines stood to their feet at the presence of these higher ranking personnel. Hearts thrummed in chests. More sweat. But the Marines stood like statues: unwavering.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the lower ranking Marines said.

Compton held a digital pad as the first lieutenant pointed out the various points that would receive an unsatisfactory, satisfactory, or outstanding remark. Once Compton and the first lieutenant had ceased their roles as inspectors, they left with the wind howling outside of the hatch. Jop followed them. In the moments that he conferred with them, he received the results from the inspection.

Gunny opened the hatch and looked at the three Marines under him. His mouth looked sour. Then he said, “You’re getting a beer Caylor and steaks are for you Haggis and Vaughn.”

They all rejoiced.