Born on the Fourth of July (9 page)

The fat kid was now kneeling on the floor. His whole body was shaking; he had his hands against his face like he was praying. “I don't want this,” he was saying. “I … I want … to go home. I want to go home.” He was saying it over and over again now, “I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home.” He hadn't even gotten there, it was the first day and he wanted to go home. And as he watched, the drill instructors, having had all the fun they could, slowly stepped back from where the fat boy was kneeling, laughing and scorning him, pitying him and cursing him, running back and forth screaming in the ears of the other young boys, cursing them and jabbing them again and again, until the whole maddening thunderous echo of cursing sounds and raging angry voices began to deafen his ears and turn his head around and around till he wondered who he was and what was happening and what was this place.

“He's not gonna make it, he's not gonna make it!” screamed the short sergeant, almost dancing in front of them. “He's not gonna hack it. He's a baby. He's nothing but a baby, ladies!”

“He can't even fit into his pants!” screamed the tall sergeant, laughing.

“Yeah,” said the southern sergeant. “He's nothin' but a goddamned little baby and you know what we do with babies,” he said. “We kick 'em in their fucking asses and send ‘em home. You people, you better listen up!” said the southern sergeant. “You are in Parris Island. You are now in Platoon One Hundred Eighty-one. You are in my platoon and if you people wanna be marines, y'all gonna hafta work harder than you have ever worked before in your lives and you are gonna listen to me and you are gonna do everything I tell you to do if you want to get your asses off this island alive and become marines you better listen to me.”

It was beginning to get dark on the island. It had been a long day for him. It had seemed like a hundred days, a thousand days! The day had been endless. It was the longest day of his life. But, he thought, if this is what it takes to become a marine, he was ready to take it, and if this is what he would have to go through in the days and weeks ahead, then he was ready for it. Ready for it!

Like the young president had said, they would have to bear many burdens, many sacrifices, and now he was in this place, and as crazy and depressing as it seemed, he would face it like a man. He would not let his president, or his family, or any of them down. He could take it, he was tough, he knew it. He could make it through these thirteen weeks.

And now they shouted for them to move out of the hangar that they seemed to have been in forever.

“Right—face!” screamed the short sergeant. “Double time … MARCH!” screamed the sergeant again. And they began to move now, all eighty of them, with their fresh new clothing and their utility caps, their oversized belts hanging from their waists. They ran, dragging heavy sea bags packed full of new clothing and uniforms, like men bent in a gale. They stumbled and gasped across the huge parade deck past the great statue of the marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima, and he thought of John Wayne and the movies and Castiglia and for a moment his heart quickened. He felt good inside. He was proud of being on the island and getting the chance to become a marine.

They looked like little schoolchildren being herded toward the long wooden barracks, all eighty of them now, stretched out in a long line, tripping over their pants, their caps spinning crazily around their heads, gasping for air, choking and spitting and coughing in the heat, their oversized boots thumping against the parade deck again and again, thumping until they sounded like a train slowly rolling into the station. He felt he couldn't go on any farther and the drill instructors were still screaming. They had been screaming all day, all afternoon, all morning, ever since he got to that place they were screaming, screaming and shouting, cursing, screaming again, until it all sounded like one tremendous scream. He had to keep pushing, he thought. He had to make it to the long wooden squad bay. He had come this far, he thought. He hadn't cried like the fat boy, he hadn't fallen to his knees like a baby. He had come this far and he was gonna make it the rest of the way, with all of them.

But now some were dropping out in back of him. He could hear the drill instructors shouting at them. They were falling to their knees in the evening heat onto the parade deck and he looked back and watched, still gasping for air, still not believing he had made it this far. There were boys on their knees—three, four, five, six—he couldn't count them all, but they were on their knees with their sea bags still over their shoulders like Christs, and they were crawling, he saw them crawling! trying not to quit, trying to catch up with the rest. And he was thankful now he was still on his feet. Oh his legs ached and his chest felt like it was going to explode and his head was pounding now and his eyes were burning and he was getting closer and closer.

Some men were cursing now, swearing and cursing like the drill instructors, cursing the heat, cursing the sweat. They began to shout and curse the shock, the shock of this day. They dragged themselves, exhausted, in single file into the squad bay. It was a long hallway painted green with double racks on each side making the place seem even tighter than it was. He found a rack at the end near the window that looked out into the swamps. He stood rigid at attention in front of his rack, dropping his sea bag at his side, staring straight ahead like they had told him, staring directly into the eyes of another young man. All of them now were coming in, their big boots banging against the wooden deck, cursing and sweating and dragging their sea bags up to their racks.

“Get in there! Hurry up! Hurry up! Get in there!” screamed the sergeant who came running through the open door of the squad bay. “I want each one of you to get in front of a rack!” screamed the sergeant. “And now I want you to listen to me!” And he told them that this place, this squad bay, would be their home for the next three months. They would live here and sleep here and shower here and work here until they became marines.

“It's late!” screamed the short sergeant. “And I know how tired you ladies are tonight. Are you tired ladies?” screamed the sergeant.

“Yessir!” shouted the men.

“I can't hear you!” screamed the sergeant. “Louder!”

“Yessir!” the young men screamed again.

“That's more like it.”

The sergeant repeated a long list of names including the president and vice president of the United States and everyone else right on down to the senior drill instructor himself, and after completing the list, he shouted to the men that every night from here on out they would repeat those names. And then he shouted, “Ready—Mount!” And they shouted back “Ready—Mount! Aye aye, sir!” And all eighty jumped into bed, still standing at attention, lying in their racks.

“Awright! I want you to stand at attention all night! I think it's good practice for you.”

And as they lay in their racks at attention, one of the sergeants had a young black boy from Georgia sing the Lord's Prayer: “Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallo-owed be Thy name,” he sang. “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in hea-ven.” And when he was finished the lights went out and they slowly closed their eyes.

And the first day had ended.

(
Lights flash, flash, flash standing by my rack now) sir! the private requests to make an emergency sitting head call WHAT DO YOU WANT KOVIC? sir! o god o jesus yessir aye aye sir one two aye aye sir
If I die in a combat zone pack me up and ship me home
COUNTDOWN—READY—SEATS! GET IN THE PASSAGEWAY SWEETPEA AND GIVE ME FIVE HUNDRED BENDS AND THRUSTS—DO IT! BY THE LEFT FLANK
—one two three four I love the Marine Corps
THIS IS YOUR RIFLE LADIES I WANT YOU TO KNOW IT ALL OF IT EVERY PART OF IT! CAN'T YOU READ SWEETPEA
? this is my rifle this is my gun this is for fighting this is for fun, Ask not what your country (
the formation now
)
remember i can talk no i can't talk no i can't bring back by the river—with the rifle
—America. America. God shed His grace on thee, Eenie meenie mynie moe catch a nigger by the toe
EYES RIGHT! I WANT YOU TO BELIEVE THIS AFTERNOON THAT THIS THING OUT THERE IS A COMMIE SONOFABITCH and wops and spics and chinks and japs and GET IN FRONT OF YOUR RACKS!! THAT'S NOT QUICK ENOUGH!
(
never quick enough, eighteen i'm eighteen now
)
UP! DOWN! GET IT! OUT! GET IT! o mom o please o someone someone help now somebody BY THE RIGHT FLANK! GET DOWN! GET UP! (hot deck parades faces mirror face still pimples now boots and socks) o lights flashes GET THE FUCK UP!
We will bear any burden by your leave
sir excuse me sir pardon me sir suffer any hardships i'm sorry sir o yessir no sir aye aye sir, sir! (push-ups push-ups clanking sounds steel) READY— SEATS! (plates forks and) EAT AND HURRY UP AND RUN AND HURRY UP AND EAT AND HURRY UP AND RUN AND HURRY UP HURRY UP! There is something I believe—we'll be home by Christmas Eve sir my service number is two-oh-three-oh-two-six-one sir the president of the united states is the honorable lyndon baines johnson sir the vice president is
Our Father, Who art in heaven
PREPARE TO MOUNT aye aye sir
hallowed be Thy name
MOUNT!
Thy kingdom come, if I die on the Russian front bury me with a Russian cunt
DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!
Thy will be done
DO IT! DO IT! DO IT IN YOUR SLEEP ON THE FLOOR ON YOUR HEAD DO IT NOW WANT TO BECOME MEN WANT TO BECOME MEN WANT TO BECOME MEN oh, become, marines oh god bless the marine corps god bless america TIGHTEN UP! TIGHTEN UP! god bless my senior drill instructor god bless the president PLATOON HALT! god bless the batallion commander god bless chesty puller god bless john wayne
From the halls of Montezuma
BY THE RIGHT FLANK! AWRIGHT WHEN I TELL YOU PEOPLE YOU GOT TWO FUCKIN MINUTES TO SHIT SHOWER AND SHAVE I MEAN EXACTLY THAT NOW GET DOWN SCUMBAGS! MAIL CALL! (eighty chests hitting the deck) i want the flag SECOND'S AS GOOD AS LAST LADIES! can't you see, Father, the tests in spring shots GOTTA BE FIRST GOTTA BE FIRST! STARBOARD SIDE MAKE A HEAD CALL PORTSIDE MAKE A HEAD CALL
oh hail Mary full of grace the Lord is
motherfucking cocksuckers!
oh Our Father
KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!
Who art in
COMMIES CHINKS JAPS AND DINKS
hallowed be
IF YOU WANT TO BE MARINES … HAVE TO PAY THE PRICE PAY THE PRICE PAY THE PRICE
If I die in a combat zone box me up and ship me home, Thy kingdom come
private kovic sir two-oh-three-oh-two-six-one sir yessir no sir one two aye aye sir
Thy will be done the
private requests permission to speak to his senior drill instructor oh god oh jesus help me help me
on earth as it is in heaven
SCHOOL CIRCLES! aye aye sir
as it is
WHAT DO YOU WANT MAGGOT? READY—SEATS! aye aye sir DO IT! aye aye sir THIS IS YOUR RIFLE I WANT YOU TO SLEEP WITH IT GET UP GET DOWN GET UP GET DOWN DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU HEAR ME PEOPLE? (we are moving now) GET OUT OF THE PASSAGEWAY GIMME FIVE HUNDRED BENDS AND THRUSTS aye aye sir one two aye aye sir one two DON'T STOP PEOPLE KEEP RUNNING PEOPLE SCUM SCUM SWINE SWINE THERE WILL BE NO DROPOUTS TODAY THERE WILL BE NO QUITTERS IN MY MARINE CORPS! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! YOU BETTER BE DEAD IF YOU DROP OUT
There is nothing finer
QUICKLY! QUICKLY! and when i grow up i'm going to TEN!NINE!EIGHT!SEVEN!SIX! FIVE!FOUR!THREE!TWO!ONE! YOU'RE LATE! LATE LATE LATE LATE LATE LATE! (raising the flag) DON'T MOVE DON'T SIT DON'T STAND DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT! FORWARD—MARCH! o mary mother of jesus you gotta help me WE ARE THE BEST WE ARE THE BEST WE ARE THE BEST platoon one eighty-one is the best KILL THEM AT THREE HUNDRED FEET! DRESS RIGHT! AT THIRTY FEET! in the trenches on the benches in the butts o get me outta here god (cracking strings and pasting holes and making hits) i'm an expert mom i'm an expert! oh make this time this time i want to scream i want to scream oh no oh wait, hey i'm, wait, i'm just, wait i'm just going to screamscream-screamscreamscreamscreamscreamscreamscream GOTTA GRADUATE GOTTA GRADUATE! BY THE LEFT FLANK—MARCH! YOU'LL NEVER MAKE IT! BY THE RIGHT FLANK EIGHTY PLATOON ONE EIGHTY! platoon one eighty-one sir! the colors guidons guide posts guide posts oh god goal posts touchdown touchdown jackets green utility's fresh smell one-two-three-four-one-two-three-four (his voice the voices they them letters) hi mom and hi dad! MARINE CORPS MARINE CORPS MARINE CORPS PORK CHOP HILL
From the halls of Montezuma
the vice president of the united states is WE HAVE NEVER LOST! EMPTY THOSE SEA BAGS! I WANT YOU TO CRAWL WORMS CRAWL WORMS CRAWL! GET THOSE LOCKER BOXES ABOVE YOUR HEADS! WE HAVE NEVER LOST! (tear apart racks tear apart racks) YOU'RE EITHER GONNA SINK OR SWIM PEOPLE! LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD! RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!RUN!!!

4

T
HEY CAME
for him early that morning, walking up the wooden ramp and knocking on the front door of his house. He could hear them in the living room talking to his mom and dad about the parade and how important it was to have him marching with them on Memorial Day in his wheelchair.

“Parade time,” his father said, walking into his room.

“I'll be right with you, Dad,” he said, looking up from his bed. “I've got to get my pants on.”

It was always hard getting dressed, but he was getting better at it. He turned from his back to his stomach, grabbing his pants and pulling them up until they reached his waist. Turning on his back again, he buckled his belt. Then he pushed himself with both hands in back of him until he was sitting up in the bed next to his wheelchair. He grabbed the chair with one hand, dragging his body across in a quick sweeping motion until he was seated, his legs still up on the bed.

Now his father knew it was time to help. He took each leg, carefully lowering them one at a time to the chair, spreading them apart to make sure the rubber tube wasn't twisted.

“Ready?” shouted the boy.