(This is the continuation of Part Five. Scroll down the page to find the beginning.
This story has come up in conversation so often that I thought it needed to be recorded. Everything is true. The timeline, facts, and dialogue have not been altered. The names have been changed, mainly because I’m not sure of the statute of limitations for those still in the service.)
I marched forward towards Charlie Company’s First Sergeant, my cover low over my eyes and my chin tucked to keep my face invisible. The soldiers could see me, now. I walked across the wide open space in front of over a hundred soldiers, intent upon stealing their company flag right before their eyes. As I neared the formation, I curved my path slightly towards the Guide. I needed to get as close as possible before showing my intentions. I could see the eyes of the soldiers in the first ranks of the formation, and too many of them were straining to look in my direction without moving their heads and breaking their position.
I didn’t know it, but they weren’t looking at me. A scene had erupted at the Lumina, where Joel’s musical reverie had been shattered by a female Air Force Airman acquaintance, who was late for duty and rushing down the hill to her unit when she spotted Joel sitting at the curb. She leaned through the car’s passenger window and asked Joel for a ride. I never found out exactly what happened, but the end result was a vocal altercation in which the female Airman espoused at length and loudly on Joel’s absence of character and surfeit of selfishness.
Ignorant of Joel’s altercation, I curved my path towards the Charlie Company Guide. I was eight paces away. He looked at me. Six paces. His eyes narrowed. The First Sergeant’s voice trailed off. He had spotted the Marine invading his formation. Four paces. I risked a glance at the guidon staff and realization struck the Guide. He twitched, but froze. At two paces, I dropped the scroll and jumped for the guidon. The Sergeant finally broke position, but he was too late. His swiped at the wooden pole but swished through empty air. The guidon was in my arms and I was running towards the car.
“GET HIM!!!” the First Sergeant screamed and two hundred boots beat the concrete after me.
I flew across the concrete, breaking the guidon down as I ran. Guidon poles have brass connectors in the middle, and the whole pole unscrews into two pieces, reducing it from a 6-foot piece of wood to two 3-foot pieces. It’s a traditional holdover from the cavalry days, when the Guide could break down the guidon for transport on horse. I didn’t have a horse. I had a Chevy Lumina, and as I ran towards it, I realized Joel had company. Some female Airman was leaning into the passenger window, and the two of them were yelling at each other. What the fu-
Joel saw me and transitioned in an instant from yelling to waving the Airman (Air-girl?) into the back seat of the car. I cleared the sidewalk onto the grass as she nonchalantly opened the rear door, still yapping something unintelligible and obviously unpleasant at Joel. I was only feet away.
“GET IN THE DAMN CAR!!!” I screamed. The thundering behind me diminished. Panic touched my shoulders. The leading soldiers were past the sidewalk, only steps behind me. The girl turned to see who was yelling at her, and her eyes widened as she stared over my shoulder. I was too scared to look back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOI…” she started to scream, but I was on her, shoving her into the back seat, slamming the car door, tossing the guidon through the open window into her lap, and jumping in the passenger seat as Joel stomped the pedal and we zoomed into the street. Thumps sounded from the car’s rear as the soldiers grabbed at the car. I wasn’t worried about the handprints on the Lumina’s spotless paint, but I did later discover that the radio antenna was missing.
“WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU-“
“SHUT…UP!” Joel yelled into the back seat. Looking at me, he added, “That was pretty close, dude. Those Army doggies can run.”
Joel looked at the Airman in the rearview mirror. “Where do you need me to drop you off?”
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she kept repeating, staring at the guidon in her lap.
“Hey!” Joel snapped at her, and she looked up at him.
“Down here on the right.” She said and looked back down at her lap. “They’re going to think that I was part of this. Oh, shit.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Joel said, slowing to the curb. She climbed out, and I never did find out her name. I probably would have asked Joel, but events were about to overwhelm me.
She put the guidon back on the seat, and walked away. “I hope they kick your asses,” she called back over her shoulder. For the first time, I had the thought that this escapade might not be over.
Joel and I rode back up the mountain and parked behind the Marine barracks. Walking up to the front hatch, Joel asked, “So, what now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I want the guys to know what we did, but I don’t know how to advertise it without giving us away.” I looked around. “Maybe we can stick the guidon up on the roof and let people see it.”
“Do you think anyone realized who we were?” Joel asked.
I shrugged, at the exact moment that the MasterGuns voice boomed down the corridor. “BAAAL-BOOONEEEE!!!”
“I retract the question,” Joel said with a shrug, and we walked through the hatch towards where the Master Gunnery Sergeant stood with his arms crossed. I felt a sudden and desperate urge to urinate.
http://brianbalboni.blogspot.com
This story has come up in conversation so often that I thought it needed to be recorded. Everything is true. The timeline, facts, and dialogue have not been altered. The names have been changed, mainly because I’m not sure of the statute of limitations for those still in the service.)
I marched forward towards Charlie Company’s First Sergeant, my cover low over my eyes and my chin tucked to keep my face invisible. The soldiers could see me, now. I walked across the wide open space in front of over a hundred soldiers, intent upon stealing their company flag right before their eyes. As I neared the formation, I curved my path slightly towards the Guide. I needed to get as close as possible before showing my intentions. I could see the eyes of the soldiers in the first ranks of the formation, and too many of them were straining to look in my direction without moving their heads and breaking their position.
I didn’t know it, but they weren’t looking at me. A scene had erupted at the Lumina, where Joel’s musical reverie had been shattered by a female Air Force Airman acquaintance, who was late for duty and rushing down the hill to her unit when she spotted Joel sitting at the curb. She leaned through the car’s passenger window and asked Joel for a ride. I never found out exactly what happened, but the end result was a vocal altercation in which the female Airman espoused at length and loudly on Joel’s absence of character and surfeit of selfishness.
Ignorant of Joel’s altercation, I curved my path towards the Charlie Company Guide. I was eight paces away. He looked at me. Six paces. His eyes narrowed. The First Sergeant’s voice trailed off. He had spotted the Marine invading his formation. Four paces. I risked a glance at the guidon staff and realization struck the Guide. He twitched, but froze. At two paces, I dropped the scroll and jumped for the guidon. The Sergeant finally broke position, but he was too late. His swiped at the wooden pole but swished through empty air. The guidon was in my arms and I was running towards the car.
“GET HIM!!!” the First Sergeant screamed and two hundred boots beat the concrete after me.
I flew across the concrete, breaking the guidon down as I ran. Guidon poles have brass connectors in the middle, and the whole pole unscrews into two pieces, reducing it from a 6-foot piece of wood to two 3-foot pieces. It’s a traditional holdover from the cavalry days, when the Guide could break down the guidon for transport on horse. I didn’t have a horse. I had a Chevy Lumina, and as I ran towards it, I realized Joel had company. Some female Airman was leaning into the passenger window, and the two of them were yelling at each other. What the fu-
Joel saw me and transitioned in an instant from yelling to waving the Airman (Air-girl?) into the back seat of the car. I cleared the sidewalk onto the grass as she nonchalantly opened the rear door, still yapping something unintelligible and obviously unpleasant at Joel. I was only feet away.
“GET IN THE DAMN CAR!!!” I screamed. The thundering behind me diminished. Panic touched my shoulders. The leading soldiers were past the sidewalk, only steps behind me. The girl turned to see who was yelling at her, and her eyes widened as she stared over my shoulder. I was too scared to look back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOI…” she started to scream, but I was on her, shoving her into the back seat, slamming the car door, tossing the guidon through the open window into her lap, and jumping in the passenger seat as Joel stomped the pedal and we zoomed into the street. Thumps sounded from the car’s rear as the soldiers grabbed at the car. I wasn’t worried about the handprints on the Lumina’s spotless paint, but I did later discover that the radio antenna was missing.
“WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID YOU-“
“SHUT…UP!” Joel yelled into the back seat. Looking at me, he added, “That was pretty close, dude. Those Army doggies can run.”
Joel looked at the Airman in the rearview mirror. “Where do you need me to drop you off?”
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she kept repeating, staring at the guidon in her lap.
“Hey!” Joel snapped at her, and she looked up at him.
“Down here on the right.” She said and looked back down at her lap. “They’re going to think that I was part of this. Oh, shit.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Joel said, slowing to the curb. She climbed out, and I never did find out her name. I probably would have asked Joel, but events were about to overwhelm me.
She put the guidon back on the seat, and walked away. “I hope they kick your asses,” she called back over her shoulder. For the first time, I had the thought that this escapade might not be over.
Joel and I rode back up the mountain and parked behind the Marine barracks. Walking up to the front hatch, Joel asked, “So, what now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I want the guys to know what we did, but I don’t know how to advertise it without giving us away.” I looked around. “Maybe we can stick the guidon up on the roof and let people see it.”
“Do you think anyone realized who we were?” Joel asked.
I shrugged, at the exact moment that the MasterGuns voice boomed down the corridor. “BAAAL-BOOONEEEE!!!”
“I retract the question,” Joel said with a shrug, and we walked through the hatch towards where the Master Gunnery Sergeant stood with his arms crossed. I felt a sudden and desperate urge to urinate.
http://brianbalboni.blogspot.com
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