During the Korean War, the Marines were pinned down by Mao's troops at the battle of Chosin Reservoir. Completely surrounded, doomed to die or else, they fought their way out. Chesty Puller, the legendary commander, when told they were surrounded, quipped, "Good. Now we know where they are." The battle has since entered Marine Corps history. I know now that, aside from being a military genius, Chesty Puller was a repugnant son of a bitch, yet the impact his response had on a ten year old American boy lingers on.
Korean War trading cards were very big back then. So were comic books. They'd depict battles, heroes, incidents, equipment, airplanes, tanks...One showed the face of a North Korean soldier - evil with blood coming out of his mouth. Really gruesome. Die! Everybody on the playground wanted that one. Mao was also a favorite. His was a face you wanted to smack. We either traded them or flipped them against a wall in a game of skill to see who could get the closest. A leaner was always the winner. Somewhere in 1951 I came across a Korean War comic book that depicted a chopper that had come under fire and, somehow, a flaming canister landed inside the rear of the vehicle. It would explode any second if not gotten out of there killing every member of the crew, so one guy grabbed it in both hands - the hero of this story - no matter it was burning and he clutched the canister through the flames - made his way out of the helicopter and ran to where he could safely dispose of the canister. Who among us is tough enough to do such a thing? Am I?
Am I? I always wondered. A lifetime I've wondered. It came up again this morning. The morning ritual around the Donnelly-Foreman household finds me up first and down stairs boiling water and buttering cinammon raisin toast to take back upstairs for Jamie. Tidy. The smile on her face sets the day off right. Great, but what has this to do with the Korean War? And why the hell am I bothering? Bear with me while I figure this one out.
We live in the mountains, so the kitchen is often chilly in the morning, ergo, the plates are chilly, too. I place the one for J's toast on top of the toaster while the toast toasts. That gets it warm. This morning it got the plate hot, so hot I almost dropped it carrying it three feet from toaster to table - except that damned Korean War card popped into my mind, and I thought, "I can't drop this. I just cannot drop this." - and I would not drop it even though my fingers really felt the heat and pain but I would not drop it. I would get it to the table. I would not drop it. So, I did. OK. Fine. What's the big deal? You dare to compare a hot plate to a burning metal canister?You're obviously still an eleven year old twerp. Why am I even bothering you all with this story? Why am I even bothering myself with it? I'm not really sure, but, for sure, it's on my mind.
Eight years later I became a United States Marine. The day I graduated Parris Island with a marksmanship medal and no baby fat remains one of the proudest of my life. In some sense, I still need to be "squared away", an "old salt" still by your side. The Marines have landed. Situation well in hand. Yet, two things eventually sabotaged my military career: 1). A distaste for authority figures, and 2). I really did not want to kill anybody (which was exactly what I spent my time learning to do). Believe numbers 1 & 2, and where y'gonna go from there? What is it with not letting go of a hot plate?
It was not fine china, more like what you'd get at a 50's diner - Ma's Kitchen, down the Pike. Easily replaced. Two pieces of toast. Easily replaced. A couple of slabs of butter? Wipe 'em up. Big deal. Then why? Ironically, I believe the corps instilled in me the irony of knowing you did not have to manhandle to be tough. You do what the situation requires you to do, not without thought, certainly not without fear. To me, having principles means you abide by them. I think a part of me is always in training for some cataclysmic event. Whether that's due to the Corps or "If I don't drop this toast plate then maybe I won't drop the flaming canister, either." I can hear you laughing. Go ahead. Maybe you should. It doesn't alter things.
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