A Different World

I felt like I was going to fall out of the side of the truck.

The folded and bolted sizes of the truck, more commonly referred to as a '7-ton', rattled as we went over a speed bump. I readjusted myself on the bench seat and leaned my back against one of the rickety poles holding up the olive drab canopy over our heads. All of us sat facing inboard, our boots spread out on the steel floor, our bullet proof vests and helmets on. The wind whipped through the sides and stung our faces.

For the size of this personnel mover, it moved rather quickly around the bend in the road on our way back from one of the ranges. The road was just out side of the base bordered a brand new neighborhood. The early morning commute crowded the country road. I watched the traffic and the houses go by, then redirected my attention back to the conversation going on in the truck.

Lt. Kansas, Pittsburgh, Jimmy, and Memphis were all already throwing comments back and forth. The conversation I will not repeat, as the vulgarity of the topic is highly inappropriate. All I can say is that many gestures and comments were made, following roars of laughter that almost drowned out the whirling of the engine as it shifted gears.

I looked down to the back end of the truck toward the opening. One of the Lt.'s in my squad by the name of Lt. San Diego was opening up a snack from his Meal Ready to Eat (MRE). It was pineapple pound cake. My favorite. And apparently his favorite as well. He pealed back the wrapper and quietly ate the small prepackaged tart. The crumbs fell on his sweaty cammies and near his dusted boots. You could see it in his face that the small snack was a moment of heaven for him. He almost smiled as he chewed.

Next to him sat Lt. Rosy. She had her hands folded, resting on her magazine pouches and medical kit. Although she had her sun glasses on, you could tell by the way her head moved with every bounce of the truck that she was fast asleep. We were careful not to wake her, nor the others who's heads bobbed with every turn and jolt of the truck. No one got much sleep in those small rooms back on base crammed with 6 people each. Getting up at 0430 this morning didn't help either.


We stopped at a stop light, and I looked over the rail to the car below. Inside the silver Beammer, a slightly over weight man sipped his coffee. His eyes revealed that he had just woken up not more than an hour ago. He must have been on his way to work. A McDonald's bag rested in the passenger seat. He never bothered to look up from his Black Berry to see me staring at him.

The light turned green and we drove around the bend. I looked as we passed one of the new streets. A large house with a green lawn had Children's toys scattered all over it. Through the window of the Kitchen I caught a glimpse of a woman at the sink. Probably washing the dishes from breakfast that she made for her kids before going to school. I wondered if they had pancakes and real scrambled eggs to eat.


The 7-ton's engine whined as the gears shifted to slow us down. The jolt moved me forward in my seat and brought me back to reality inside the truck.


The contrast between the world of those in the Marines and the rest of the civilian world is staggering. It felt odd... almost uncomfortable to be riding this edge between my reality now and what once was. It was as if I was peering into an alternate world; one that Marine's protect but do not take part in. One that we strive to have one day but may give our lives before we ever do. A world that all of us gave up just a few months ago and will never be able to return to the same.



Two different worlds.


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