In the Marines the badge on the left is truly golden to the 13 men (to include one Navy Corpsman for emergency medical care) that wore it. While on base, in uniform, if seen wearing it, you instantly become labeled ultra stud! Part of an elite group of enlisted personnel that even commands respect from high ranking commissioned officers. For that given year, you and 12 other men are considered the USMC's "Super Squad." It is a contest that allows each base to enter who they feel are their best 13 infantryman (no cooks, admin paper pushers, or greasers from the motorcade allowed) in a process of elimination challenge.
The challenge consisted of hikes, swims, runs, marksmanship, combat drills, and anything you could think of that could force you to quit while remaining combat ready at all times. I wanted to be a part of that Super Squad not because of the badge; mainly because growing up, I always got excited watching the Los Angeles Lakers win championships and traditionally head to Washington D.C. to meet the President!
The winner of the "Super Squad" competition got to do just that. Meet the Top Dee Oh Gee! That was my main motivation. Plus I was married at the time and obtaining this title pretty much allowed for you to choose anywhere you wanted to be stationed. I was stationed at Camp Pendelton and like most women, she wanted to travel. Camp Pendelton is a huge base with lots of Marines and the process of elimination for "would-be" Super Squad members was a challenge in its self. Me and 13 other young men made it to the top of the class for Camp Pendleton and at that point, our regular day to day activities stopped and we were housed together to focus on nothing else.
As a result we all became extremely tight for the most part with sparks of testosterone flying every once in a while. I could do everything well. Especially the swim since all the whiteboy's from the south were convinced blacks were dead weight in the water. My only weakness was tying a series of approximately 15 to 20 knots fast while blind folded to simulate night condition climbing. No matter how much I practiced I fell short here! The "billy bad ass" of the squad took notice and I admit, I was quite intimidated. He could do everything the best. I was most impressed with how he could drink so much vodka the night before a treacherous run, have the Navy Corpsman stick a I.V. in his arm prior to sunrise and be back to 100% within 30 minutes smoking us all in the run, grab the next man's gear, and talk shit at the same time. I wanted to be like that but needles and I are like two positive sides of a magnet.
Thank God, because if not, without question I wouldn't be here today. Teams of this nature are difficult. The saying "your only as strong as your weakest link" is clearly understood with this experience. I forgot his name but this other Marine and I would get into scraps pretty often. Every Marine that wasn't from Los Angeles had something to prove to the ones that were. I now blame it on the West Coast Gangster Rap movement of that era. The mid-west, and the southern boys always wanted it to be seen that their hearts didn't pump no kool-aid.
Until one night it came to a head and we were both determined to kill each other. We didn't care where we were or how it was gonna happen, but one of us was gonna wake up hella sore if at all. We both woke up in an ambulance on our way to the hospital in San Diego after falling off the two story balcony of the barracks we lived in. Our outlook towards each other changed while at the hospital. We both decided to focus and comment on all the fine Navy Nurses moving about. Neither one of us had seen so many women in uniform before. It was a revelation to say the least. There was one problem though. A combat Marine never would go to medical. Never! Unless you were a bitch.
The staff there recognized the tracks on his arm from the I.V.'s and thought he was on drugs. They took blood samples and no drugs? He was forced to tell them about the I.V.'s. He lost rank and was kicked off "Super Squad." The rest of us knew we were doomed from there and lost in the first round to 29 Palms in Palm Springs. He was clearly our "Ray Lewis." That's when I fully understood the dangers with relying on others and attempting to take short cuts just to get by. Some things just stick with you.
Author: Christopher Gonzales
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