Mind the Gap: a Spy School Collection

An Operator and His Aviator

"Much better, hon. Your boys doin' alright?"

"They're all good. Robbie's gettin' patched up now, but—"

"What, you're not gonna salute me, Master Sergeant?" a voice asked behind me. Molly and I spun around (and I looked down) to see none other than another Marine pilot, his flight suit looking much like hers—even with the same unit patch—but he looked young and still had spots. A closer look at his ID patch revealed that he was none other than a second lieutenant.

"Molly, you didn't tell me your squadron got a new butter bar," I muttered, making my wife sigh.

"Jerry, meet Second Lieutenant O'Donnell, the newest addition to VMA-223," she sighed, waving her hand dismissively at the butter bar.

"Master Sergeant, I—oh, good evening, ma'am!" O'Donnell greeted, just noticing Molly, who rolled her eyes.

"O'Donnell, is there a problem?" she asked tersely. "Mass Sarn't Schacter and I have some business to attend to," she said, emphasizing my name.

"I... er..." the lieutenant stammered before finally composing himself. "Regulations state that enlisted Marines render salutes and greet officers! He didn't do that!"

"Listen, Lieutenant—" she began, before she was interrupted by Major Keating jogging towards us.

"Hey, Mother! Just gonna—what the hell is this?" the XO asked as he came up to us, a file in hand.

"Master Sergeant Schacter apparently doesn't realize that enlisted personnel have to render salutes and greet officers in passing," the lieutenant said, almost smugly, apparently assuming that the major would take his side.

"Is that so?"

"Lieutenant, salutes and greetings are regulation, but there are the more important unwritten rules: decency and humility," Molly lectured. "And at this time, child, you have neither."

"But ma'am, I outrank a sergeant major, who outranks Schacter, and even he's supposed to salute me. If Master Sergeant Schacter is too stupid to understand that he's supposed to salute me—well, he is an enlisted man after all," the lieutenant said haughtily.

Molly's eyes widened at the butter bar's statement, her face then morphing from one of exhaustion to one of cold fury. I wasn't offended by the boot luey's statement in the slightest—I never did go to college, and silly insults like "stupid" didn't get under my skin—but my wife seemed to take great offense to it. However, Major Keating stopped her before she could unleash a diatribe.

"Mother, can you drop this off to the S-3 (staff personnel in charge of coordinating operations) guys at headquarters? Mass Sarn't, escort her. The two of you are dismissed. Lieutenant, come with me," he ordered sternly. Nodding, I turned around, gently grabbing Molly's shoulder and pulling her with me before she could argue any further.

Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy a good fight, verbal or physical, and even if I don't enjoy it, I understand that it's necessary at times. Probably comes with the territory of being a six foot five, "jacked" Marine (at least, that's how the kids put it). But sometimes, it's better not to argue with fools.

However, I won't deny that I didn't enjoy hearing the sweet, sweet retribution behind me.

"What?!? But, sir—" the boot luey protested before his squadron XO erupted.

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU LISTEN HERE AND YOU LISTEN GOOD, YOU STUPID SONUVABITCH! THAT MAN HAS BEEN SERVING THIS COUNTRY BEFORE YOU WERE EVEN CONCEIVED! YOU JUST EARNED YOUR WINGS, AND I'VE GOT HALF A MIND TO RIP 'EM OFF AND GET YOUR ASS DISCHARGED!"