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.
