The Return of the Marines Trilogy by Brazee Jonathan P

Author:Brazee, Jonathan P. [Brazee, Jonathan P.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-12-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Aboard the Jason Dunham

That afternoon.

Burke turned the corner on the flight deck. He was never going to get used to running on board the ship. It took about a million trips around the postage stamp-sized flight deck to make a mile, and with the other Marines and sailors trying to get in a run before chow, the “rush hour” made for a crowded work-out. In times like these, Burked missed the long, tree-shaded trails back at Bragg.

As this was not a platoon session, Burke was in his old Army shorts and black t-shirt with the gold “RANGERS” proudly emblazoned across the chest. The lieutenant had proven to be OK, trying hard to keep out of his hair, but in a tradition probably going back to the Roman legions, Burke enjoyed pulling his chain, and wearing the shirt was one way of doing this. Lieutenant Niimoto was Marine this and Marine that, always talking about forging the new Corps, but after the look on the lieutenant’s face the first time he saw him in the shirt down in the berthing spaces, well, Burke knew he had that gadfly. Better yet, he knew the lieutenant would never actually say anything about it.

Running on the flight deck took coordination. It was so small that anyone who deviated from the pace could cause a traffic jam that would make LA proud. And PFC Jesus McNamara was slowing down in the afternoon heat. When Burke had first seen McNamara’s name on his orders, he thought his first name was given by some sort of born-again Christians. But he was Jesus as in Heysus, the Latino pronunciation. He looked Latino, too, and could speak Spanish, but how that jibed with his last name, Burke wasn’t sure yet. He made a mental note to ask Sgt Dailey, McNamara’s squad leader. Burke was of the school that the more you knew about your men, the better able you were able to do your job.

“Come on, McNamara, pick it up. You don’t want to look like a pussy in front of all these squids, do you?” he quietly told the lagging Marine as he pulled up alongside of him.

“No staff sergeant,” the PFC blurted out, with a hint of the drill field still in his voice.

He pushed forward for a few paces until they came to the end of the flight deck, and they had to slow down for the turn. Burke decided to run in back of McNamara to keep him going.

It was easy to lose yourself while running. Burke thought back to his first month on board the ship. The worst thing was the boredom. As a Ranger, he had never experienced so much down time. Oh, there was that time he sat on the runway at Pope for three days, ready to fly down to Guatemala. The fact that they never actually left made that whole evolution seem like a waste even if the brass made it sound like the simple threat of the Rangers did what it had to do.

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