We went North to the Fond du Lac rez for the Marine Corps birthday and Veterans Day, my wife Cheryl and I.
Jim and Pat Northrup had reserved a room for two nights at the Black Bear Casino and Hotel for us. Jim and I are both Veterans of the Marines and Vietnam, so we had a traditional Marine Birthday Celebration with a cake and beer. The Marines were born, organized and founded in Tun Tavern Philadelphia on 10 November 1775.
The Quakers booted one of our founders out, don't know why. What I do know is the Marines are not a religious, or anti-religious organization, although our song is known as the Marine Hymn. It goes like this!
HIM....HIM.....FUCK HIM!!!! which is sung heartily wherever two or more Marines gather.
This hymn is sung only by Marines. If sung by non-Marines it will get your ass kicked!
Anyhoo, another tradition of the Marines is the youngest and oldest Marine present cut the cake with the Marine Sword, of which Jim has in his possession! Reminds me of a story from the year 2000. Jim, Walter, myself and my sons Zac and Tom decided to visit Washington D.C. for the birthday and Veterans Day celebration. Neither of us are particularly fond of the crowds that would be at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, so we decided to visit the “Wall” on the 9 Nov. The Iwo Jima Ira Hayes Memorial and Quantico on 10 Nov. So that's what we did.
Now for some reason we - Jim and I- cannot figure out, we seem to attract the weird and/or different. For instance, at the Wall an elderly lady approached Jim. She explained she was from Fond du Lac, Wisconsin and asked Jim where in Fond du Lac he was from, as his jacket has a Fond du Lac tribal logo on it. Jim explained his Fond du Lac was a reservation in Minnesota. Jim walked with her to the Wall, spending 30 or more minutes with her. We later learned her son was a Marine who was a KIA. She would be the last normal person we would meet.
As we walked away from the Wall, a guy approached me and handed me a “FLECHETTE”- this looks like a little black arrow. They are packed in Arty Rounds and usually fired as a last resort when your unit is about to be overrun! I had been wounded with one of these Flechette Rounds when we had used one in a confined alley in Hue. The alley was narrow and had cement walls. Nearly all standing near the 106 recoilless rifle were dinged with these little arrows. Instead of Purple Hearts, we were threatened with fines for being stupid.
The Lifer that brought us this round and told us to use it, never said a word! Anyhoo this guy handed me the Flechette without saying a word. This mystified Walter who asked Jim, “How did he know?” Jim said we don't question what happens in our lives, to leave it alone!
From that time on we would have weird happenings. We were directed to an old VFW in Virginia that was celebrating the Marine Birthday, where we would drink the most gawd awful tasting beer ever! Jim and I were the only ones drinking that beer, because it was free, and after 5 or 6 who gives a shit what it tastes like. It was then we started meeting the weird and strange, the first being a biker named “Grizz”, a huge, bearded, bald Marine with a jagged scar on his head, says he was struck by lightning while riding his Harley in the Blue Ridge Mountains during a thunderstorm.
Anyhoo after finding a long table to sit at, a vet with no face asked if he could sit with us. He then asked if we wanted to know how he lost his face. We said No! but he proceeded to tell us. He then asked if we wanted to stick our finger in a hole in his head, so Jim stuck his finger in this guy's head. From that time on he left us alone.
Next we met an Australian, a Hawaiian, and a woman who asked Jim to heal her. Oh GOOD! How about the naked mud bath, I said. But Jim wouldn't, told her to make a tobacco offering and pray. The Marine Birthday Cake was brought in, along with a bagpiper. After the hymn was sung, the oldest and youngest Marine were gonna cut the cake. It was discovered they had forgotten their sword! Asking if anyone had a sword, Jim volunteered his, and sent Zac to the Van to get it.
It was then I remembered seeing that Aaron Jim's grandson had been SWORD FIGHTING HIS FRIENDS IN THE YARD! After they all quit because they only had sticks, Aaron proceeded to whack the dogshit that was laying on the ground. Getting tired of this, he sheathed the “NCO” sword and put it back in the van. I thought of letting it be, but couldn't! I met Zac at the door with a cook who had promised to clean the sword with boiling water. The cake was cut! We all sang the Hymn and ate Cake! It was then I told the Whackin The Dog Shit Story! Happy Birthday Marines!!...
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