Proper Bearing

The heat of the parking garage enveloped the Marines. Lance Corporal Stevenson Swinton worked his biceps, his triceps, his tapezius, his core. Sweat dropped like shell casings from a M240. Other lance corporals and corporals operated in similar fashion. Every move remained swift and precise. The idea was to get buff, sure. But the real reason behind all of this lifting, squatting, pressing, and yes sweating was to be the best Body Bearers. Swinton dropped the two hundred and twenty five pound bar on the bench press. He looked up at his platoon guide. A smirk found its way onto his face.

“Swinton, you are mentally and of course physically ready for your first funeral detail. I’ve watched you go from a good Marine to an outstanding one in a few weeks. Will you have the proper bearing, Swinton?” Platoon Leader Sergeant Fredrick Kole asked.

“Yes, sar’ent.”

“Good. That’s what all of this is about.” Sergeant Kole stood at six feet even. He possessed almond skin and a “make it more perfect” attitude. He addressed the other junior Marines who had ceased their workout as well.

“Thursday, we will be carrying retired Marine General Rayful Venn. His whole family is driving from Newark, Delaware to Arlington. Let’s make sure that the drive will not be in vain. We must of course exhibit complete and utter respect and dignity for our fallen fellow Marine. You understand that?”

“Yes, sar’ent!”

“Good. You finish your work out and go grab some chow.”

The lance corporals and corporals all grunted and sweated until their bodies reached their limits. And then they asked for more. Next, when they could not possibly get in one more rep, they retired from their labor and headed to their barracks.

“Swint, I saw you getting it in with the bench press. I see you,” Corporal Temple said.

“Yes, it’s all about…”

“Yes, the family. I know. Some sons and grandsons. But it’s also about the girls. Chicks already dig Marines in their Blues. Think of this grandpa general’s granddaughters. They’re probably hot!”

Lance Corporal Swinton raised from the bench.

“What the hell is the matter with you, Temple? This is about dignity, honor, respect. Where the hell’s your bearing?”

“I think we should remember who wears the blood stripes in this conversation,” Temple said.

“I think that you need to get your head on straight. You might outrank me by one grade at that, but I’m not losing my self-respect dealing with a corporal who’s out to get some tail at a Marine general’s funeral, goddammit!” His voice was low but the end came out with a sharp “t.”

Temple and Swinton squared up. The other Marines formed a horseshoe around the two of them. Kole saw all of this activity just as he was about to exit. He returned with a determination.

“What the hell?”

The lance corporals and corporals all snapped into parade rest as if they had been mechanized.

“What’s going on here?” Kole asked.

Swinton spoke. “Sar’ent, Corporal Temple is lacking in military bearing and respect for the uniform. I think that we ought to use a substitute for General Venn’s funeral service.”

Kole edged closer to Temple. He looked him up and down. He was damn near close to being able to shake the Marine.

“Sar’ent, the lance corporal may have had too many energy drinks and is not coherent. I think that the weight of the bench press may have also caused a blood vein to burst in his head.”

“Look, we’ve got to be locked and ready come Thursday. Temple!” Kole said.

“Yes, sergeant!”

“If you ever step out of line again, you will be replaced. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sar’ent.”

*****

On the day of the funeral, the sky remained cerulean. Some cirrus clouds appeared here and there. The Marines looked like toy warriors. Their Dress Blue uniforms matched the sky that day. The six of them carried the weight of the general. The other services would have had eight and hoisted the casket at the waist. Not here. Aloft their shoulders, the men who had trained so smart looked every part the esprit de corps. Temple marched in back of Swinton. Once “Taps” began to play and they all moved, Temple swiped Swinton’s leg and he jerked the casket. Temple grinned. Swinton looked at Kole. The sergeant just averted his eyes to the family, silent as the general in the box. Swinton recovered quickly after the stumble and returned to his bearing. Once they had reached the burial site, and prepared to fold the flag, Temple looked around again saw that no one was looking and nudged Swinton in the stomach. Swinton jerked again. A gasp arose from the family and friends at the service. Now, Swinton was hot but no one could tell. He kept a straight face even though his ribs ached like hell from Temple’s shove. The Marines finally folded the flag and handed it to Marine Colonel and executive officer Sayeed Kalvin who presented it to General Venn’s wife. During this whole process Swinton eyed Temple who grinned. They formed the six man detail again and marched towards the barracks. They got changed into PT gear and made their way to the parking garage.

Kole burst through the hatches. “What the hell was that Swinton?”

“Sar’ent, it was Temple. He….”

“Temple!”

“Yes, Sar’ent.”

“What did you do out there today?”

“Nothing, honest. I was….”

"Goddamnit, somebody better give me an answer. I just got chewed by the XO!”

Swinton breathed. “Temple was so busy looking to hook up with the young women at the service, he came after me in the process.”

“Say what?”

“Temple came at me. That’s what you didn’t see.”

“Is this true Temple?”

“I…”

“Temple I’ll NJP you until you sweat blood. This time, you’ve done something that cannot be undone. You’ve disgraced the Corps and yourself. You’re out of the Bearers. Get out of my face. Fly!”

Temple, bulging muscles and high and tight haircut, crumbled into a thousand pieces and regained himself enough to be dismissed from the elite Marine unit.

Kole turned to Swinton. “I know now that it was not your fault that General Venn’s funeral was less than stellar. But you did an outstanding job of maintaining your bearing. I’ll make damn sure that you be next in line to be promoted. You understand that?”

“Yes, sar’ent.”

The other lance corporals and corporals continued to build muscle mass and be prepared for the next time that they would be needed.