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There’s an unmistakable feeling of absolute horror that bestows upon one that forgets where his rifle is. Sometimes it’s just for a split second, that moment where you realize you don’t have it on you, but remember it was left with the gear watch. Sometimes–and may the gods have mercy on you if you do–you’ve truly forgotten where it is. The latter doesn’t usually happen, but it can and does to some less fortunate and forgetful Marines.
If you’ve never deployed or never really been to the field, this strip probably won’t mean much to you. Then again, I would think the majority of Terminal Lance wouldn’t mean much to you if you were such. However, anyone who’s ever been responsible for the well-being of that hunk of metal strapped to you at all times can probably relate to this. The feeling is heart-stopping, terrifying and momentarily immobilizing. The rifle becomes like a small child–a cold, uncomfortable and with sharp-edges small child that you have to carry with you at all times.
For those of you that have never looked after a rifle: imagine you go to the grocery store with your toddler. You shop and check out, the child running around you at all times. You get to your car, load the groceries into the trunk, and it dawns on you: your child is not with you. Yeah, you just shit your pants. That’s the feeling you get when you forget your rifle.
Anyway, in other news, slightly late update today. I was way too tired last night to sit down and do this thing, so it had to wait til this morning. I heard Marines are going sleeves down now year-round, which is unfortunate for Marines in Hawaii or Japan, since green cammies have black on them and those places are hot and humid.
Marine Corps-wide cammie regs are just plain stupid. Different bases are in different climates, and that can not change.
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