Knee Deep in the Hooah!

I wrote most of the following while drinking Sniper’s Brew Colombian Supremo.

Early on in the Corps, I was instructed that there were three forms of leadership 1) Authoritarian, 2) Persuasion or a 3) combination of Both.

One of the recurring training evolutions our Battalion from Okinawa, Japan participated in was Exercise Crocodile in Rockhampton, Australia. Having the chance as a Company Commander to deploy off island with his Marines, well who wouldn’t want the opportunity? The details of the exercise, the events during the deployment, and the liberty experienced during my first trip to Queensland are all worthwhile, but here’s a little vignette on a minor leadership challenge.

I don’t like to repeat myself. And even for a Marine, I’m really not a big fan of raising my voice. Not that others don’t, but I usually try to be a reasonable steward and shepherd of my mouth. Too often I’ve seen an authoritarian style of abrasive leadership being applied when unwarranted. That doesn’t imply that I have an inclination to be milquetoast. In the “gun club” there are no points gained in being reduced to the role of frustrated spouse that ineffectively tries to compel, “The no dirty socks, no wet towels on the floor rule.” The plain truth is, that although Marines have a well earned reputation for being immaculate, i.e. hospital corners and barracks inspections, sometimes life in the field can slip. Personal hygiene and uniforms are the traditional exception. Eleanor Roosevelt’s once made the observation that, “The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen.” Perhaps I’ve been provided a strategic window.

Another reality was that some of these men reported to other company commanders. I could flex, but pole vaulting over mouse turds creates animosity. On a professional level these men were among the top echelon of their peers so why not use a bit of creative motivation. Furthermore, my First Sergeant would have eagerly weighed in, but he could see the scheming imp on my shoulder had grabbed me. The culprits included my operations officer, another mustang (prior enlisted and a workhorse) and some senior warrant officers that happened to be slobs much the same way that some happen to smoke – statement of fact not derision.

So the First Sergeant and I drove in to town and went to the first thrift store we could find. We walked in and I quickly found the first bargain bin of girl’s panties and thongs and proceeded to pick out the most frilly and sexy ones I could find. Armed with 30 or so pairs of panties at the equivalent of about .50 cents each, I possessed in my arsenal sufficient ammunition for my task. Second order of purchase was a box of Australian condoms in particular a brand not found on Okinawa, Kangaroos come to mind. My First Sergeant had been with me long enough to hold his curiosity.

After any deployment the last thing a married guy wants to deal with is doubt. A couple of months in a foreign country is bad enough, but when you’re leaving an isolated locale like Okinawa where the local girls primarily of course speak Japanese, drink Saki, and don’t necessarily appreciate the extroverted testosterone of the American Marine and exchange that for an environment where the Australian girls love rum, love rugby (and reportedly a bit of rough and tumble) and also happen to speak English well… it surely doesn’t take much imagination for concern and a desire for seniors to encourage temperance.

With product in hand, we returned to base and headed back to our tents while the majority of Marines were actually engaged in activities directly connected with the mission of the joint exercise. Reminiscent of a parent preparing for his kids’ Easter Egg hunt, the First Sergeant stood guard while I strategically went about placing panties in boots, pockets, sleeping bags, etc… It’s quite enlightening to discover just how easily it is to hide contraband in the personal belongings of another.

This is Friday, a day when the Marines, and in this group of seniors (85% of which were married), looked forward to a break and a bit of down time out in town. It’s late afternoon and I had completed my task before our liberty hounds, those who didn’t have watch responsibilities, made it back to our tent in order to change over into civilian attire and make their departure. I’m on my cot, reading and waiting. I’m purposely looking a bit pre-staged. This usually is an indicator, at least to the wiser among them, that elicits some side bar remarks as in, “Uh oh the CO’s up to something.” As I peer over the top of my book I observe that it’s beginning to dawn on them.

“What the hell are these?” Then further revelation that there’s more? My Ops O is the first to proclaim, “Sir, what the hell! If my wife finds panties in my stuff when I return home all hell will break loose! How many of these did you hide?”

“What are you talking about?” I reply.

And then a few more pairs of panties are discovered… “Sir?” And a crusty Warrant Officer with a Viper of a wife protests, “This isn’t funny, Sir.”

Again, my Ops O, the smartest of the bunch and a sneaky bastard himself on occasion. “Sir, you’re not retaliating against…, you are aren’t you?”

I reply, “There’s a hundred pair of panties. Want to see how hard it is to find a 1,000 hidden condoms?”

In the days following after, temptation of reversion was easily thwarted. It didn’t take but a hint of encouragement to return to a pristine environment that Felix Unger would appreciate. And as a side note, in addition to my latest application, I discovered a third great use for panties that kept us out of trouble and scored us free rum. But that’s yet another story.

It’s astounding how much power there is in a little pair of panties? I suppose the ladies know that already.

With Utmost Respect ~ Semper Fi, Hank

Disclaimer: {I’ve taken a few liberties to protect the innocent, if there is a statue of limitations and any criminalities then all stories are a work of fiction. The characters do not exist except in the mind of the author and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Truth is stranger than fiction and my lawyer advised me to include the above. For those that were there…, Semper Fi}

Used by permission KDH Copyright © 2009 Sniper’s Brew All Rights Reserved.