Soldiering

When I was in high school, World War II was still fresh in our minds, the Korean War had just ended, and the draft was a fact of life for young males. Boys who had graduated in previous years, returned to town in spiffy new uniforms with shined shoes and neat haircuts, and I saw how the girls watched them shyly, and how the old folks treated them with a respect that hadn't been there when they were mere damp-eared students like me. Soldiering seemed an exciting and rewarding way to earn one's living, so I announced that the military life was for me, and, shortly after graduating, I enlisted in the Marine Corps.

The problem with soldiering, I soon discovered, was that the Corps did not view my decision to join in the same light that I did. I had naturally assumed--based on the assurances of the local recruiter (a scurrilous class of scoundrels, I later found out, who are notorious and shameless liars)--that the Corps would be exceedingly glad to see me when I reported for boot camp. Indeed, I expected to be welcomed with smiles and, if not open arms, at least handshakes and slaps on the back. I expected some gratitude on their part because I had consented to become one of them.

But the sergeant who picked me and seven other enlistees up at the airport, didn't seem glad to see us at all. Instead of welcoming us like future heroes, he treated us like vile members of the criminal class. He remarked--in language that, although certainly colorful, is not suitable for repitition here--that the country was in a sad state when such scum as we were allowed into his Marine Corps. He said that he suspected we were communist agents whose only purpose was to screw up his Marine Corps, but that he was on to our plot and he was going to personally see that we did not succeed.

At first we assumed that he was just having a bad day, but when we got aboard the base we discovered that everybody else in the Corps was apparently having a bad day, too. This mass ill humor persisted the next day, and the next, and the next, until it dawned on me and my fellow recruits that this was how it was going to be every day.

I concluded early on in my tour--that first day, in fact--that my decision to enlist had been a bit hasty, but I was unable to prevail upon the Corps to let me reconsider my contract. I served the entire four years, and it has cured me of any hint of the soldiering urge to this day.