Although
I originally took this photo simply because I liked the symmetry of the
two Marines as they repaired their tank--it reminded me of an old Lewis
Hine photo--it has come to symbolize a lot more to me over the years:
it has come to represent the beauty of teamwork. And
if the Marine Corps is about anything, it is about teamwork. In Vietnam, this seemed to be especially
evident. Contrary to what one might expect, I remember very little
sloppy work or bad attitude. Even though
it became an increasingly unpopular war at home. Even though letters
from family and friends became shorter and fewer--if not non-existent.
Even though so many wives and girlfriends had met someone else and
would not be there for them when they returned home. And even though a
lot of us began to have serious doubts about the correctness of the war
and the way it was being fought, most of the guys I served with always
gave it their best, if for no one else but their own self respect and
the rest of us who were counting on them.
I was always impressed by that.
As
much as I used to grumble about the military in general and the Marine
Corps in particular, I have developed a certain begrudging respect for
both. The Marines in particular for its ethic of giving more than is
required or expected.
For every other branch of the military, the tour of
duty in Vietnam was 12 months; for the Marine Corps, it was 13. Every other branch always spent every dollar
allotted to it by the Department of Defense; the Marines made it a
matter of policy to deliver as promised with money left over every year.
As often as not, our equipment and supplies were
leftovers from the other branches but we always made do—with a
minimum of complaint. Marines were akin to
the poor stepchildren of the other branches. I
was always amazed at what they had that we didn’t.
But to their credit, the guys in the Army, Navy and Air
Force never treated us poorly. They always shared anything they had
that we needed even though we seldom had anything to give them in
return. We had our names for them: the
Army we called the “Doggies,” the Air Force
“Zoomies,” and the Navy guys “whale turds.” There was no jealousy, though, much less
animosity toward them: only marvel that such abundance existed for
those luckier than ourselves.
Although this photo was taken of tankers, it could just as
well have been of motor transport drivers, engineers, grunts, or
helicopter mechanics--just about any Marine in Vietnam striving to do
his best.
