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.
