A Day In the Life

         I often get asked, "What’s it like to be a Marine?" Now, I don't particularly understand the question, which is why I generally stare blankly at 'em. But eventually -- with enough blank staring -- they clarify what they're asking and I learn they want a 'Day in the life of Joe Marine'. So what's it like being me? Let's see. I get up at the crack of dawn. No, wait. Scratch that. I get up before the local star even gets up, cause it's got the good sense to stay in bed for an extra hour or three. So I get up before dawn and do a run of callisthenics. You know, a brief stretch session to work out the kinks, maybe a few push-ups, some sit-ups, a few jumping jacks, and a short two kilometre run. Nothing too strenuous. When I get back to the barracks, I have myself a nice warm shower -- just long enough to soap up and rinse off . Then I grab my gear and give it a run-over. Break it down, clean it, oil the parts that need it, brief inspection that everything looks the way it should, then build it all back up and store it. I suppose I should mention that I clean up my bunk area before going for my run and such. Everything has to be in order, in case someone decides to pop an inspection on you. It's rare that happens outside of boot, but, hey, you never know. That and old habits die hard.

         It's around this point I get stopped. See, when people ask, "What's it like to be a Marine", they ain't askin you what a usual day is like. They're askin you what it's like to be in combat. To have people shooting at you, trying to kill you, and all that 'fun' stuff. I usually respond to their further clarification with a, "Oh! You mean what do I do with my afternoons?" Never did believe in correcting the stupidly ignorant. If people want to believe that all soldiers do is fight, far be it from me to set 'em straight. Honestly; Who wants to be in combat all the time?

         Anyway, I try and describe it for them, best I can. But how do you explain to someone what something smells like? Aye, smells like. Most people don't think about that. See, combat, battle, war, whatever you want to call it, it's got its own smell to it. Can't really be explained, either, anymore than you can explain coffee to someone. What does it smell like? Coffee. Nothing smells like it, it's unique. What does war smell like? Beats me. Well, actually, that ain't entirely true. Ever smelt death? It's something like that, with the faint undertones of decay and rot, ozone, various bodily fluids from a host of critters, sentient or otherwise, and one or two other things I can't or don't want to say. I try to tell people that. Most look at me funny, some even nod, pretending they understand. A few follow-up with, "Death? Death ain't got no smell. It don'ts smell like anything." Oh, to be ignorant once again. You want proof death has a smell? Take a walk down that hall in the hospital where all the ICU patients are kept. You know, the ones that are 'on death's bed'. There's something in the air. Not anti-septic, something else. Something you can't put your finger on, something you can't describe. It isn't a 'smell' like coffee, or chicken, or roses. But it's there. You smell it, taste it, even though you don't.

         Most quietly leave at this point. I think it's cause they see the Look in my eye. The one most soldiers get. Some call it 'reminiscing'. Thinking about the past, remembering fallen friends, et cetera. I can tell you it's a hell of a lot more than that. You 'reminisce' about your first kiss, or the time you and your best friend put fire-works in all the girl's bathroom's toilets. You don't 'reminisce' about the time said friend caught a stray one in the gut and was screaming for help as his entrails bubbled out of him, no sir-ee. You re-live that, just as if it were happening all over again. You see it, hear it, and yes, even smell it. All in living, gory detail. So, when I get the Look, most tend to excuse themselves and find somewhere else to be.

         So what’s it really like to be a soldier? It's a lifetime of waiting for the next battle, filled with the mindless tedium of chores, exercise and drills, and punctuated by those sharp moments of combat; The time's when all you do is long for that mindless tedium. When you pray that neither you, nor anyone you know, gets hurt or worse.

         So why do we do it? Collective insanity and some disturbed belief in honour and duty. The idea that it is our morale responsibility to protect the society we love, while at the same time protecting the individuals we love that make up said society. That's why the sane one's do it. I suppose there are other reasons, but they aren't mine and I don't advocate them. One's like 'for adventure' or 'to see the galaxy'. The kids that join for those reasons do one of two things; Die or die horribly.