Tactically Practically Practical

 From "Authentic, a Memoir"...

    ....As the air seemed still, I looked over at the lieutenant, who I knew didn’t like women being in the Marines—then I looked at the goofy Marine and said, “You know this is not only a new cover; however, after I’d gotten out of sickbay yesterday, I sized and blocked this cover.” I heard a Marine say, “Just pay her!” I said, “No. Come here.” As I looked straight-on at the goofy Marine. Smiling he backed up. Yes, I was coming in for the kill. I’d get my kick out of the situation.

    I moved forward, slowly walking toward his ordinary five-foot eleven inch hundred- and eighty-pound frame. “Come here.” I ordered the goofy Marine, a Lance Corporal (that’s one stripe and rifles). He backed up, I lunged forward grabbing the collar of his white t-shirt. I pulled him as fast as I could and landed a beautiful shin kick with my newly stripped and polished black military right boot. He landed on the ground, half moaning from what had been a laugh. I looked at the lieutenant and said, “I’m done here. I have some batteries to clean.” I nodded and walked back across the motor pool to the truck I’d been working on. 

    Days later I received a promotion, I now had my first stripe and found out I was one of four Marines who was up for Marine of the Month on Camp LeJeune. A couple of Sergeants had put me in for it. Too, I’d also been called crazy for the second time by a Corporal, who one night may have had a little too much to drink. That night I nearly had to rescue him from others who wanted to have at him. 

    There I stood in my Charlies, with a twelve-inch piece of metal bunk bed post in my hand—in a doorway between he in an enclosed room and about seven other Marines on the outside. I looked at them as I stood in the doorway blocking them from entering, it was nearing midnight. “The O.D. is on his way.” I stated, slapping the twelve-inch post into my opposing palm. They wanted in. I added, “I wouldn’t try me.”---Jody-Lynn Reicher