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The Right Of Every Marine The following story is one of several contained in the book titled "Korea The Last Of The Fun Wars". The book published by Kal and Anette Kalnasy represents a series of humorous stories and incidents which took place during the Korean war. Kal served with the First Marines. We are all sure the Marines and Corpsmen of the First Battalion Seventh Marines would never participate in such goings on. This story is published here to demonstrate the ingenuity of Marines, regardless of the location. Information about the book may be obtained from Anette (Kal has made his final muster) at the following e-mail address akabambi@houseofbeijing.com. Korea 1951 Front Lines Korea could be a bitch. There we were, dug in, waiting for an attack at any moment. Regiment on 50% alert. We had many alerts, expecting the Chinese to start another one of their bugle calls, signaling another human wave charge. I used to wonder what would give out first: the Chinese with it's massive population or our bullets coming from our prolific arms suppliers? Anyway, one of the God-given rights of a Marine is the right to scrounge. Being very low on the military supply chain required Marines to supplement his barely adequate supplies with with whatever God provided or whoever he could find that wasn't nailed down. Of course a good Marine also carried a pry-bar to assist in the liberation of those items that were nailed down. One morning, notice came down from Division that we could stand down. The threat of an attack by Chinese troops in our perimeter had been greatly reduced. It seemed the Chinese army needed some easier targets and was concentration on South Korean positions. No sooner had these orders come down from Division, then down the road came a large convoy of trucks. Behind our position was a road and across that road was a very large open area. These trucks pulled into that area and soldiers proceeded to set up camp. Tents went up in perfect order, each one being thirty feet apart. Bulldozers proceeded to lay out streets. Hell, they even put up street signs. Mess tents were set up. Supply tents set up. Latrines were dug in very precise positions. Then, would you believe they started to install razor-wire fencing all around the perimeter of their pretty camp? Then, wonders of wonders. supply trucks started to roll up. These trucks were loaded with all kinds of goodies. We sauntered over to give these newcomers a warm welcome. But, would you believe it? We were refused entrance. This camp was for Army personnel only. Now that is not the way to treat Marines...especially such honest and forthright Marines like us. But wanting to be helpful, we decided that we should assist them in their security efforts. After all, we didn't want them to wake up in their cute little cots, step outside in their jammies, and find that the Chinese had infiltrated and stolen some of their precious supplies. We decided to test their security systems. That night, twenty-one Marines, wearing camouflage and night paint on our faces, crept across the road. Silently we cut an access hole in their razor-wire fence. Leaving one Marine to act as a rear guard, we snaked through their perimeter guard positions. Once inside, we proceeded to check the inventory in their supply trucks. We found one loaded with K-rations and proceeded to resupply our needs. Two trucks later we struck gold. Would you believe we found a truck loaded with case after case of beer. Now obviously, we realized that they were probably preparing to throw a party and invite us over. Feeling that would be an awful lot of work for our new neighbors, we decided to help them in the distribution of such fine supplies. We made seven different trips to those two supply trucks. I do have to apologize. It was not until later that I realized that we had forgotten to leave an thank-you note. But figured that, what the hell, we could leave one on our next visit. That next morning, we did notice there seemed to be a lot of commotion over at our neighbors. We figured that they were probably thrilled that we had assisted the in the disposal of such fines supplies. After all, they were a resupply depot. We were so pleased with the hospitality that they had shown us that we decided it would only be neighborly if we paid them a return visit. I mean, how often does one encounter such generous neighbors? That night, once again penetrated their perimeter. We did find they had improved their security quite a bit. This pleased us to no end. I mean how often does one see one's security suggestions implemented so swiftly? We approached the supply area and noticed they had moved everything. We figured that they really wanted their security system checked out so we deployed scouts to see where all the goodies had been stored. After about fifteen minutes, word came that the supply truck had been located. Wanting to finish the security test as rapidly as possible, I crawled into the interior of one of the supply trucks and proceeded to hand out the cases of goodies inside. Everything was going well when one of the men outside said, "Watch it. here comes a guard." After being informed that the guard was too close for me to effectively remove myself from the truck's interior, I decided that this might be the time to test the reactions of the sentries. Sitting down on a case goods in the truck, I drew my .45-automatic and waited. Now, not wanting to exert too much energy, I propped my arm on a case in front of me and with the .45 in plain sight, I waited for the sentry to discover me. I did not have to wait long. The flap of the truck was moved, and there stood a sentry with his flashlight on and shining directly into the trucks interior. I knew that he could not possibly fail to see me. I waited for his greeting. Looking back at the incident, I now realize that this was not a good test for him. I doubt if he was able to see anything except the .45 which, of course, was aimed directly at him at eye level. It was at this time I head a voice say, "Do you see anyone in the truck?' Knowing this must be the Sergeant of the guard, I waited for the guard's response. I was not disappointed. I heard then guard say, "No sir, there is no one in this truck." The guard then dropped the flap, and I heard him leave. Not wanting to put the poor guard in a difficult position and figuring as soon as he went to his tent and changed his shorts that he would probably would want to return with some of his buddies and extend a formal welcome, I decided that it probably was best if I returned to my own position. With that I beat a hasty retreat. Now I know that many of you will want to know if this story was true. Now, really, would any Marine steal or scrounge things from the Army? Well, I will say one thing: Over the next few days, we seemed to eat better.
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