Marines: Semper Fi, Corpsmen Always Sly
I recall several incidents where Marines and Navy Corpsmen
met; not all of them were mutually supportive of each other. Although many
Naval Corpsmen were cross trained to accompany Marines in the field, they didn’t
always see eye to eye. One of my friends was a prime example. His name isn’t
necessary at the moment, but at one time he had a definite Hippie type
personality, caught in Uncle Sam’s military machine. He preferred the feel of sandals
on his feet, puka shell bead necklace around his neck, and when he talked about
a joint in his hand, he wasn’t talking about a knuckle bone.
Who says that the U.S. government doesn’t have a sense of
humor? The fickle finger pointed at him, sending him to Field Medical School
and then assigned him to a Marine company. This occurred during the Vietnam War
when the feeling between Hippies and the Marines weren’t at their best. I wrote
my friend a letter and accidentally included his middle name Felix. He wrote
back saying it wasn’t hard enough being with these gung-ho meatheads and now
they had his middle name to harass him. Sorry man.
Another tale of crosscurrents between Marines and Corpsmen
happened while I was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland. The Marines guarded the
base while the corpsmen handled the hospital and ambulance needs. There were
times when they would mix at the enlisted men’s clubs to eat, drink, and gamble.
One challenge that often occurred was a drinking game. A tab would be opened at
the bar with the loser responsible for the bill. Beers would appear and
disappear until one or the other of the contestants would allow his beers to
reappear. They would take turns fetching the drinks from the bar. When the
corpsman had his fill, he would pour ipecac syrup into the Marine’s beer.
Ipecac is an emetic agent that induces vomiting. By then, the Marine’s taste
buds were dulled and he didn’t notice the flavor change. Corpsmen rarely had to
pay the tab. As a teetotaler, I was only a casual observer.
One good story shared with me happened while I was in Orlando,
Florida. I was caring for a corpsman who’d been injured in Vietnam. He stepped
on a land mine and had chunks from his buttocks and one calf missing. He said the
Marines asked a Seabee bulldozer operator to clear a path across a field. The Seabee
refused and the corpsman was the one who’d found the buried mine. Only by
throwing himself forward was he able to escape death. He said that the Seabee later
had fallen to friendly fire. Nobody messes with the Marines’ corpsmen.
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