by E. Clay
“Man, don’t even go there. How long have you been in country?” I commented as I pointed to my watch in jest.
“I wonder what’s for lunch, I am starvin’ like Marvin,” Sullivan asked as he removed his bush cover as he entered the tent.
“We eat duck every day here in the Mog,” I responded.
“Duck every day?” asked the naïve Lance Coolie. “Yeah, whenever we eat, we duck in, grab a bite, then we duck out to make room for others,” I said with a grin.
Inside the Operations Center, the night shift was relieving the day shift and the Colonel had a few words to pass.
“There are a few new faces that I want to recognize and personally welcome them aboard. When I call your name, please stand up.
“Major Lewis, my new Operations Officer, Gunnery Sergeant Sherman our new Logistics Chief and Lance Corporals Sullivan and Jones our admin support. Last but not least, Dr. Terrance Gaye. Dr. Gaye is a State Department Liaison Officer here and he brings a lot to the table. Dr. Gaye, the floor is yours,” the Colonel said as he stepped aside, waiting to shake hands with our new civilian onboard.
“Good evening Marines!”
“Good evening,” the crowd responded faintly.
Dr. Gaye was unimpressed by the half-hearted response.
“Maybe I did not project my voice loud enough,” Dr. Gaye joked as he looked at the Colonel.
“Let me try this one more time. GOOD EVENING MARINES!”
“GOOD EVENING sir!” the crowd responded with much more vigor.
As soon as he began speaking, I nudged Eric.
“We were both wrong. He’s a civilian,” I whispered, as I marveled at his confidence and the manner in which he engaged us.
“As I look into the crowd, I see a lot of strange looks … you are probably wondering why I am here. Raise your hand if this is your first time here in Mogadishu,” asked Dr. Gaye as he scanned the crowd from left to right and back.
Everyone looked around and slowly raised their hands.
“As I passed through the gates, just a few hours ago, I felt a sinking feeling in my heart. In 1987, I reported here for duty, as a diplomat to the U.S. Mission. I forged many close friendships here, many of which did not survive the civil war. In this very building, the Marine House, some of the wildest parties you could ever imagine were hosted…right here. Where you are standing right now was once a dance floor. I departed Mogadishu on 5 January 1991 as we closed the U.S. Mission. It was a historic but sad day. Mogadishu was a thriving city at one time. But, unfortunately, as a country falls, so do its people. What you see here, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of civilization. And it could happen anywhere given the right circumstances. In closing, I have just two requests, if I may. First, understand that the threat here is very real. Moreover… dignity. Whenever you engage with the locals, show the same level of dignity and respect you would to a neighbor back home. Do not dehumanize them because of their circumstances and disposition. And finally, may God help us, may God help us all. Thank you,” Dr. Gaye said as he made his way through the crowd and out of the Operations Center. Two aides scampered close behind.
I wasn’t sure if what I had just heard was meant to be a pep talk or not. But it motivated me.
Chapter 4
Velvet Knife
15 February 1993
The next morning Eric and I stopped by the Operations Center on the way to morning chow to read the Plan of the Day. As I picked up the clipboard, Major Lewis summoned me into his office. I told Eric I would catch up with him later.
“Sir, you wanted to see me?” I said as I poked my head into his office.
Major Lewis was standing in front of his desk reading something in a white notebook and did not respond.
“Major Lewis? Major Lewis?” I repeated.
Then he sat on his desk and sighed before he spoke.
“I was just reading over your Fitness Report (eval) from Captain Shaffner. He gave you just one Excellent.”
“Wow. I’m kind of surprised. Captain Shaffner and I didn’t have the best working relationship, I expected much worse,” I commented with a great sigh of relief.
A competitive fitrep was Outstandings across the board. I gladly accepted a fitrep with just one Excellent.
“I’m pretty sure this will finish you,” said the Major as he took a drag off his cigarette.
“Sir, one excellent, I will take that all day long. The rest of the O’s will take care of it,” I said reassured.
“You don’t get it, do you?” remarked the Major in a condescending tone as he handed me my fitrep.
“What is there to get?”
“There are no Outstandings. You received one excellent in personal appearance but the rest are Above Averages.
I was stunned. Evals like that were typical for Marines who were reprimanded with a long history of infractions.
“Sir. That’s a career killer. That will put me and my family on the street,” I said as my voice began to vacillate in panic.
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson. As Officers in the Marine Corps, we are paid good money to make tough decisions. I suspect this was an easy one. Captain Shaffner was a fine officer and you sat idle as he lost his career. You could have saved him.”
“Sir, I knew the Colonel took the document from the safe. But I had no idea Captain Shaffner would forge a destruction report to cover his tracks,” I said as my anger began to percolate.
I needed to cool down and fast. I was speaking to an officer and did not want to say anything I would later regret.
“You failed him and the entire Officer Corps. You had crucial information and you kept silent,” Major Lewis said. Then he blew three perfect smoke rings in my direction.
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson. I wish I could have had the opportunity to have met you earlier in your career. Things would have been very different.”
“Do you think I would be a better Gunnery Sergeant?” I asked less angry.
“No. I would have weeded you out a long time ago. You would not have made it this far.”
My fist tightened and I wanted to walk towards him. But then logic kicked in. Maybe he was baiting me to push me over the edge. I wanted to expose Major Lewis for who he really was. I just needed to find the three 6’s in his scalp to prove it.
As I walked out of Major Lewis’ office, I realized I had just signed away my thirteen-year career. The fitrep was above the threshold precluding me from challenging it, but damaging enough to ensure I would be passed over twice. Two passovers were all that was necessary to separate you unless you were at the eighteen- year mark, I had thirteen. “Maybe the Army would take me,” I thought to myself.
But I loved the Corps and anything less would leave me unfulfilled. I sat on a crate just outside the office with my face buried in both my hands. I was depressed. Minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder from behind me.
“What?” I asked without looking up.
I then saw a silhouette in front of me between my clasped fingers.
“Dr. Gaye! Sorry sir, I thought you were someone else,” I said.
“Normally, when I see someone troubled, I respond by telling them they could be in a worse place. But then, this is Mogadishu,” Dr. Gaye said lightheartedly.
He extended his right hand to pull me up. “Thank you sir,” I said.
“So what is so bad that made you throw in the towel before the fight started?”
I didn’t know Dr. Gaye, but his demeanor allowed me to open up to him, so I began my rant.
“Dr. Gaye, my Marine Corps career is done. I don’t know what I’m gonna do to support me and my son. I’m a single dad.”
Dr. Gaye seemed genuinely concerned. “Accompany me to JTF Headquarters. We can chat while we walk. I can tell you are emotional. If you want to make a rational decision, you must remove emotion from the equation,” Dr. Gaye said as we both passed a very surprised Eric enroute to JTF.
“I’m desperate for an answer, but how do you take emotion out o
f the way?” I asked.
As we passed other Marines on the compound, I felt uplifted and somewhat important being seen with Dr. Gaye.
“It is simple. Just for a moment, think about what advice you would give your best friend if he or she were in the exact same situation,” Dr. Gaye said as we slowed our pace and eventually stopped in front of the flag pole.
“I would tell him to stay strong and don’t give up? I replied unsure of myself.
“Okay. Your best friend is looking for a course of action, not a pep talk. Close your eyes and think….”
After I closed my eyes, I let out a big sigh. I was able to examine my situation from a bystander’s perspective. I sensed a feeling of mental clarity.
“I would tell my friend to request an appointment with his reviewing officer to voice his concern,” I replied as we resume walking and began approaching the JTF HQ building.
“Then do that, my friend,” Dr. Gaye replied as he smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” “Gunnery Sergeant, what is your Christian name?”
“You mean my first name? My name is Clay.”
“Inside the workspace, I’d like you to address me as Dr. Gaye. When we’re off the clock, call me Terry. Clay, I think you have an appointment to make. We will chat again.”
“Thank you very much Dr. Gaye, I mean Terry, I mean Dr. Gaye.”
Man, I sounded like a complete dork. But Dr. Gaye was the man. He was so smooth it was criminal. He then shook my hand before departing.
“Ciao,” Dr. Gaye said as he winked and smiled.
Dr. Gaye removed his bush cover and proceeded into the building. It is amazing how a few choice words from a concerned individual can completely change your outlook. My Dad was a master at that. I now had a plan and I felt empowered. I would speak with the Colonel and fight for my career.
Chapter 5
Office Hours
15 February 1993
“Yo, Pint,” Eric called out as I walked into the Operations Center with a renewed confidence. “’Sup?” I replied as I stopped to talk to him.
“Dude, don’t gimme dat. I saw you hanging with the Doc. What was that all about?”
“Let me rewind for a second. I just got an adverse fitrep from my former Officer-in-Charge. You know, the one that got fired?”
“Dayuuum! That sucks. That’s the kiss of death right there man,” Eric lamented with concern.
“Well, Dr. Gaye said I should challenge it.”
“Of course. You have the right to challenge an adverse fitrep.”
“Well, technically it’s not adverse, so I can’t rebut it. But it’s bad enough to ensure I will get passed over twice. I’ve got one shot to plead my case with the Colonel and I need an iron-clad defense.”
Eric placed his forefinger on his temple and began brainstorming before he came up with a defense.
“I know what you should do. Claim the fitness report was the result of a personality conflict based on you getting him fired.”
“I didn’t get him fired, he got himself fired when he forged the destruction report. But I know what you mean. I will say it was his way of paying me back. Thanks man, I need all the help I can get right now, my Marine Corps career is on the line.”
I fist bumped Eric and marched to the Operations Center. I was nervous and my heart was racing. I was just hoping the Colonel would be in and available.
As I walked towards the Colonel’s office, I saw him on the phone. I took a deep breath and sipped from my canteen to clear my throat.
“Yes General. I will pass the word to the officers and Staff NCOs during passdown. Out here!” the Colonel said as he hung up the phone and noticed me lurking around his entrance.
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson. Do you need to see me?”
My adrenaline levels were off the charts, they had to be, it was game time.
“Yes sir, if you have time.”
“I always have time for my troops, take a seat,” the Colonel said as he stood first and seated himself after I was in my chair.
“My fitness report sir. I would like to speak with you about my marks. I think Captain Shaffner is being unfair in his evaluation of me.”
“Ahh. Major Lewis was just in here and placed it in my inbox. And yes, I have read it. I am not a mind reader but I suspect you would like me to mark “non- concur.”
“Sir, I would be most appreciative.” The Colonel sighed before speaking.
“It doesn’t work that way and it is not that easy. I place a tremendous amount of confidence in my officers to grade our enlisted troops. It would take a compelling and persuasive argument for me to side against a reporting officer. You have five minutes to convince me. This is your chance. Go!” the Colonel said as he sat back in his chair in receive mode.
“Colonel, I am confident that my fitness report is Captain Shaffner’s last act of defiance as a result of him being terminated over a forged document. When he took me off patrols and stuck me on night shift, that was another example of him trying to harass me. Because of the unique circumstances of me being involved in his termination, I would like to have Captain Shaffner recused from writing my fitness report.”
I was gaining confidence in myself. I never used the word recused before, but I heard it used on an episode of “Law and Order” and it seemed to fit the situation.
“Gunnery Sergeant Thompson. I have heard many reasons to mark “non-concur” and side against a reporting senior, but your argument ranks with the best. It is both persuasive and compelling.”
As soon as I heard the words persuasive and compelling, I felt there was hope. I wanted to slap Captain Shaffner upside his big head. In my mind’s eye that’s exactly what I did. I couldn’t let him win this.
“Unfortunately, there is one small problem with your argument,” the Colonel said as he removed his glasses and handed me my fitness report.
“What, sir? What’s the problem?” I replied as I felt a knot growing in my stomach.
“Son. Take a look at the date of the fitrep. It is dated two days before the incident, before he doctored the report. I am very sorry.”
I wanted to beg. And I could have easily lost my cool right there. But it was too late and all the begging in the world would not save my Marine Corps career. All I had was my pride, and I was determined to hang on to it as best as I could. I had to resist the quiver that wanted to control my lip as I began to speak a few words.
“Sir, thank you for allowing me to have my day in court and speak my mind,” I said as I stood and began to plan a graceful exit.
I hated the thought of Captain Shaffner ending my career. At least he was able to reach retirement. I would not be as fortunate. For the first time in my life, I remember thinking “Evil prevails.”
“Gunny Sergeant Thompson. Sit back down. If I am not mistaken, Captain Shaffner may have done you a favor. Hold on one second,” said the Colonel as he rummaged through a stack of papers in his desk drawer.
“Sir, I am sure Captain Shaffner didn’t do me any favors. That I am sure of,” I said as I sat back down.
“Yes. I have it right here. Look at this organizational chart for the Operations Center,” the Colonel said.
“Sir, I am looking but I don’t see anything. What am I looking for?” I said as I scanned the document up and down and left to right.
“When Captain Shaffner put you on the night shift, he put you in a Master Sergeant slot.”
“I’m not following you sir.”
“If a Marine is working beyond the grade of his rank and particularly if he is outside the scope of his military occupation, the Reporting Officer must annotate that in the evaluation. Captain Shaffner did not acknowledge either in your fitrep. This is what I am going to do. I will personally address those key bullets in my Reviewing Officers comments.”
“Do you think it will make any difference?” I asked.
“I have sat on a few promotion boards where this
has happened, and in those instances the fitrep was either tossed or weighted based on a collective body of past reporting.”
“Were the Marines promoted?” I asked eagerly.
“On two separate occasions, the board recommended promotion. In the other cases, it really didn’t matter because there was a trend of poor performance.”
I started to get my confidence back. I felt a debt of gratitude to Dr. Gaye and to a lesser extent my best friend Eric. I didn’t have a guarantee, but I had hope, at least for the time being.
Chapter 6
Crocket and Me
16-19 February 1993
One of the newbies assigned to our shop was Lance Corporal Jones, but everyone called her Crocket. Crocket was built kinda like a guy and I suspected she might be a tom boy.” Others were much more crude in addressing her physical appearance. When Marines observed her for the first time, most did a double take because it was hard to distinguish what gender she was. The fact that she had short-cropped red hair did not make it easier. I stood behind her at evening chow and I was surprised to find she had a very feminine voice. She had the voice of a young school girl but her physical appearance did not match her voice. I don’t know what I expected her to sound like, but all I can say was, she surprised me.
I was supposed to meet Eric at the Chapel for Sunday worship. He wasn’t particularly religious, but he got his best sleep there. While I headed to the Chapel, I observed Crocket being harassed by a few young Corporals. They formed a half circle around her and the shortest of the bunch was the instigator, egging everyone else on. He was laughing with his buddies and grabbing his crotch as he addressed her. As far as I was concerned, this was completely unacceptable behavior in the Corps and anywhere else on the planet. I really disliked bullies and especially those that harassed females. It was time to end this nonsense.
“Hey Corporal. You got a problem with your crotch?” I said as I approached the hecklers.
“Ah, no Gunnery Sergeant. We were just leaving the area,” said the Corporal as he and his buddies came to a semi position of attention.
“Cause if you do, they have cream for that at sick bay,” I said as I dressed him and his buddies up and down.