by C. G. Cooper
GySgt Vasquez led the way, followed by Recruit Stokes and then the two remaining drill instructors. The office doors crashed as they made their way through.
The recruits stood in shocked silence until Recruit Manderly finally spoke.
“I guess that’s the last we’ll be seeing of Recruit Stokes.”
7:03am
They’d left Recruit Stokes standing at attention, facing a concrete wall while they checked on the other recruits who’d been in the scuffle.
At last GySgt Vasquez came to get him.
“Left, face! Forward, march!”
Vasquez marched Recruit Stokes across the parade deck and into the Sergeant Major’s office.
+++
“Stand there and don’t move,” GySgt Vasquez instructed. Stokes did as he was told. He looked like a mess. Junior Marines passed by shooting amused glances.
Vasquez came back moments later. “Follow me and keep your mouth shut until either I or the Sergeant Major address you.”
He didn’t wait for a response from Stokes. Instead, he marched into the conference room.
SgtMaj Kent looked up from what he was reading and pulled off his slim reading glasses.
“Is this Recruit Stokes?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major,” answered GySgt Vasquez.
“You mentioned a fight?”
“There was an altercation involving four of my recruits. Recruit Stokes here got the worst of it. He’s supposedly the instigator as well.”
There was silence as the SgtMaj digested the news.
“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on, Recruit Stokes?” asked SgtMaj Kent.
“This recruit…”
Recruit Stokes didn’t have time to answer. A Marine full bird colonel stuck his head into the doorway. Reacting from years of Pavlovian practice, SgtMaj Kent popped to his feet and barked, “Attention on deck!”
GySgt Vasquez quickly assumed a ramrod straight position of attention to match the SgtMaj.
“At ease, Marines,” said the colonel with Sampson etched into his nametag. “Sorry to interrupt SgtMaj.”
“Not a problem, sir. Can I help you with something?”
Col. Sampson glanced at Recruit Stokes as if deciding whether to speak in front of him or not.
“I just got an interesting phone call from a friend of mine in the Senate Liaison’s office.”
“Sir?”
“Seems as though someone’s been trying to place a phone call into one of our recruits and keeps being put off.”
The eyes of the SgtMaj and Gunny whipped lightning quick to Recruit Stokes.
“Did I say something…” started Col. Sampson.
Not removing his glare from Stokes, the SgtMaj asked, “Did he say what the recruit’s name was, sir?”
“Yes,” Col. Sampson consulted a small sticky note in his hand, “Recruit Calvin Stokes, Jr.”
+++
After letting Col. Sampson know that the bloodied recruit standing in front of him was indeed Recruit Calvin Stokes, Jr., SgtMaj Kent promised that he’d get to the bottom of the mess.
Stokes had retained the same hard look that he’d walked in with. He waited alone in the conference room as Vasquez and the SgtMaj went looking for the mysterious caller’s phone number. They returned not five minutes later.
“Before we place this phone call, Stokes, how about you tell me what the hell is going on?”
“This recruit doesn’t know, Sergeant Major.”
“How about your face. You gonna tell me your platoon mates took a crack at you for no reason.”
“No, Sergeant Major.”
“You’re a stubborn S.O.B. aren’t you?” When no reply came, he continued. “Tell you what, let’s make this here phone call so I can hurry up and process your tail off my island.”
“But, Sergeant Ma—”
“You shut your mouth, Stokes!” growled GySgt Vasquez.
“That’s okay, Gunny. Go ahead, Stokes. What were you going to say?” he said with a sneer.
“This recruit doesn’t want to get kicked out of boot camp, Sergeant Major.” Stokes’s voice faltered slightly and both of the Marines caught it. It gave them pause.
“And why not?” asked Kent.
“Because this recruit wants to be a Marine, Sergeant Major.”
“You listen to me son. Not only have you brought the chain of command into this phone call drama, you’ve also succeeded in getting into a squad bay brawl with your fellow recruits. And let’s not even mention how you’ve wasted the good Gunny’s time. Give me one good reason why the hell I shouldn’t kick your butt out right now.”
Recruit Stokes’s eyes clouded and tears came unbidden. “Because I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
+++
SgtMaj Kent calmed as he watched the young man expel his emotions. He was used to seeing weak kids dropped from training on a daily basis. The Marine Corps wasn’t for everyone. Hell, the Corps didn’t want everyone.
But this recruit confounded the experienced Marine. Recruit Stokes looked like what a Marine should be, in peak physical condition, tough, smart and stubborn. What was Recruit Stokes holding back?
Once Stokes gathered himself, SgtMaj Kent spoke.
“Why don’t we go ahead and make that phone call.”
He picked up the conference room phone and dialed the number from the sheet of yellow lined legal paper he’d placed on the conference room table. Someone soon answered.
“Who is this, please,” asked the SgtMaj.
His eyebrow raised as he listened and then glanced at Stokes. Finally he answered, “Yes, sir. He’s right here. Wait one.”
SgtMaj Kent took the receiver from his ear and extended it to Recruit Stokes.
“It’s for you.”
+++
Recruit Stokes grabbed the phone and, with the rest of his body still remaining at the position of attention, answered, “Recruit Stokes.”
There was a pause as he listened. Tears once again came to his eyes. SgtMaj Kent and GySgt Vasquez waited patiently, looks of confusion etched on their normally stoic faces.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Recruit Stokes handed the handset back to SgtMaj Kent. Kent replaced it on the conference room table.
“So that was your cousin?” Kent asked.
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“I take it we won’t be getting any more phone calls?”
Recruit Stokes sniffed and shook his head. “No, Sergeant Major.”
“Good. Now how about you tell us the whole story.”
Stokes nodded and told them.
8:29am
“Oh my, God,” exclaimed Major General Perry. “Have you had him see the Chaplain yet?”
“Not yet, sir. I think Sergeant Major Kent has a better idea. The kid might come around.”
“Do you think we have others?”
“I’m sure we do, sir.”
“I thought we’d identified all of them. We’ve been so concerned about preparing for war that we dropped the ball.”
“It’s my fault too, sir. It’ll be good to take a step back.”
“I think you’re right, Rick. Please let me know if you think I need to do anything personally.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, sir. You’re welcome to attend if you’d like to.”
“I may sneak in the back. I don’t want to take the spotlight off your Marines,” said MajGen. Perry.
“Thank you, sir. By your leave, sir?”
5:47pm
They’d allowed him to return to the barracks to shower after spending most of the day in the clinic. There he’d received two stitches on his lip, ice for his head and Vitamin-M (Motrin) for his pain. That was in addition to the head x-ray they’d done and a full body physical. SgtMaj Kent had made it plain that he wanted to make sure Recruit Stokes was in good physical condition, minus his most recent bumps and bruises.
Recruit Stokes sat quietly in GySgt Vasquez’s office, eati
ng a bag lunch off his lap. SSgt Adams sat across from him doing recruit evaluations.
“You almost finished, Stokes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Stokes crammed the rest of the turkey and cheese hoagie in his mouth and placed all his trash in the waste basket.
SSgt Adams looked up as his recruit swallowed his last bite.
“Atten, hut!”
Recruit Stokes jumped to attention.
“Recruit Stokes, report to the Senior Drill Instructor in the squad bay.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Stokes did an about-face and marched smartly out of the office and into the squad bay.
+++
The rest of the platoon was donning field cammies and loading rucksacks. GySgt Vasquez and Sgt Ignacio supervised the orderly chaos. Recruits looked up at Stokes as he marched in. There wasn’t a kind eye in the room.
Stokes ignored them and came to a halt behind GySgt Vasquez.
“Recruit Stokes reporting to Senior Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Vasquez as ordered.”
Vasquez turned around.
“Good. Go get your field cammies on. Your rack mate will tell you what you need to pack,” said Vasquez.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Recruit Stokes turned and walked to his bunk. Recruit Manderly was cinching down the straps holding his sleeping bag on his pack.
“I can’t believe they let you come back,” Manderly muttered.
Stokes ignored the comment. “What are we supposed to be packing?”
Manderly stared at Stokes for a moment. Finally he said, “One night load. No tent.”
Stokes nodded and moved to prep his things.
6:16pm
“Platoon, forward, march!” commanded GySgt Vasquez.
Marching in a column of twos, the lightly packed recruits stepped off. They hadn’t been told where they were going. That was unusual. There was a certain secrecy that shrouded the goings-on of Marine boot camp, but once the initial breaking in period passed, recruits typically knew what the day’s evolutions would be. This time they hadn’t been told a thing. Even the old schedule that had said ‘Platoon Study Hall’ from 1800 to 2000 was now gone.
In the dimming sky, the recruits could see they were headed toward the tree line.
7:39pm
“Platoon, halt!” called GySgt Vasquez.
They’d walked briskly for just over an hour. Approaching an open field, they saw a large fire in the center of the meadow.
“Squad Leaders, fall out and stage your squad’s pack behind that tree over there.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” barked the squad leaders. Methodically, the recruits arranged their packs in neat rows. It was one of the first lessons they’d learned after leaving the yellow footprints.
More platoons were arriving as the 2nd Platoon’s drill instructors ushered their recruits to their designated spot near the now roaring fire.
GySgt Vasquez motioned for Recruit Stokes to come over.
“Come with me, Stokes.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
He followed his Senior Drill Instructor to a spot where someone had set up a picnic table. One other recruit was standing at parade rest when they arrived.
“Stand next to that recruit, Stokes. The Sergeant Major will be with you soon.”
Recruit Stokes complied and matched the posture of the pimple-faced teenager next to him.
Soon, three other recruits joined their ranks. All wore similar puzzled looks. They were all from different phases of training. It was rare for them to intermingle during basic training. Most times recruits in different series were kept apart except when passing each other in the mess hall or on the parade deck.
8:00pm
SgtMaj Kent and Colonel Sampson materialized from the tree line. Both were wearing faded utilities.
“Attention on deck!” yelled SgtMaj Kent.
The two senior Marines marched up to the group of five recruits by the picnic table and halted. SgtMaj Kent gave them all a reassuring look before turning to face the assembled mass.
“At ease. Everyone have a seat and pull out your canteens,” SgtMaj Kent ordered to the gathered battalion. He waited for them to sit.
“You have the floor, Colonel.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Major,” Col. Sampson then addressed his Marines and recruits. “Most of you are probably wondering why the hell you’re out here tonight. I’ll be short because this is the Sergeant Major’s show. I just wanted to come here tonight to tell you a story. It’s a story about two young Marines. One, a crusty corporal, the other a not-so-crusty Second Lieutenant.”
The crowd chuckled.
“Well, one day, for some reason I can’t remember, the Second Lieutenant loses his platoon sergeant. Now, it wasn’t for anything serious. I think he probably just rotated to another unit. Anyway, this Second Lieutenant was a smart guy but pretty green. So the same day this corporal reports in to be a squad leader, he finds out that he’ll be the acting platoon sergeant. Just as any good Marine corporal does, he took it in stride. He went right up to his new platoon commander and said, ‘Sir, if you watch my back I’ll watch yours.’ Luckily the Second Lieutenant listened. Later on that corporal saved the Second Lieutenant’s life, and a week later the officer saved the corporal’s life. You see, they took care of each other. That’s what we do as Marines. We look out for our own.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering where I’m going with this. More importantly, you’re probably wondering who those young Marines were. Would you like to know?”
“Yes, sir,” the recruits and Marines answered.
“The corporal’s name was Kent and the lieutenant’s name was Sampson.”
He walked over and clapped SgtMaj Kent on the back.
“That’s right. Those two Marines were me and SgtMaj Kent. As luck and fate would have it, this is the fourth time we’ve served together. We invaded Grenada together, deployed all over the world, invaded Iraq in Desert Storm and now we’re here. Over the years we’ve watched friends die in battle and in training. To this day we still watch each other’s back.”
He turned to SgtMaj Kent and said loud enough for the crowd to hear, “Semper Fidelis, Sergeant Major.” The two men shook hands. “The floor is yours.”
“Attention on deck!” barked SgtMaj Kent. Everyone jumped to their feet.
Col. Sampson pivoted and stepped off into the darkness of the surrounding woods. Once he was gone, SgtMaj Kent called, “At ease. Take your seats.”
Once everyone had settled, he began.
“There’s a reason I asked the Colonel to come say a few words tonight. First, he’s one of the finest and bravest Marines I’ve ever had the pleasure serving with. I would die for that man and he for me. Second, there is a point to the story. Some of you may have caught it. As Marines, we take care of each other. No Marine left behind. Well, even though most of you aren’t Marines yet, you’re still part of our family.”
He paused to pan his gaze across the platoons.
“I’ll be the first one to tell you that no one is perfect. Believe it or not even the old Sergeant Major had an NJP or two in his early days in the Corps. You will screw up and some Gunny or Sergeant will be there to chew your ass. But that’s okay. Learn from it. Grow from it.
“Now, as you all know, our country is at war. We may not have invaded yet, but we will. I’m not sure where and I’m not sure when, but we will. Many of you will go and some of you will die. That’s the price we pay to be United States Marines. You’ll be our 9/11 Marines. You’ve come when your country needed you most. You’ll go down in history next to the countless Americans that raised their right hand after the attack on Pearl Harbor. 9/11 is our Pearl Harbor. You will always remember where you were and what you did about it. I’m proud to be standing in front of so many men and women that chose the brave path.”
SgtMaj paused to let the words sink in. He had their full attention. They waited patiently, reverently.<
br />
“I mentioned that no one is perfect. It turns out some of us made a mistake. A big mistake. We didn’t take care of our own. That’s why you’re here tonight.”
There were mumbles in the crowd and the five recruits standing behind the SgtMaj fidgeted uncomfortably. One of them started crying. The mumbles turned to murmurs in the crowd.
SgtMaj Kent held his hand up for quiet. The hush reclaimed the clearing except for the crackling of the fire.
“We will likely all lose friends in the coming years. No one knows how far we’ll have to chase these terrorists and those who support them. But tonight I want to focus on those among us who have already lost. The five recruits you see behind me lost loved ones in the attacks on September 11th. I want each of them to tell us who they lost so that we might honor their memories with a moment of silence.
“Recruit Yarborough, come up here please.”
The recruit next to Stokes marched forward hesitantly. He was the one that had started crying. Recruit Yarborough stopped next to the SgtMaj.
“Tell us who you lost, son.”
Yarborough took a deep breath and said, “This recruit lost his cousin, Alfred Yarborough.”
“Will everyone please bow their heads in silence for Alfred Yarborough.”
Recruits and Marines alike solemnly bowed their heads. An owl hooted in the distance, but in the clearing nothing stirred.
SgtMaj Kent raised his head. “Thank you, recruit. Why don’t you go have a seat with your platoon.”
Wordlessly Recruit Yarborough returned to his platoon. Each of his drill instructors shook his hand and clapped him on the arm before he sat. Finally, Yarborough took a seat to further consoling by fellow recruits.
The same happened for each of the next three recruits. An uncle lost. A sister dead. A grandfather murdered. All on 9/11.