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.
