Live Fire

Ratatatatatattatat! Ratatatattatatat!

Oh, great. The enlisted kids in the CS (cuilinary specialists) lounge next to my stateroom must be watching a war movie...with the volume up too loud again. So now this grumpy old man will go over and tell them to turn it down. Which will fill me with guilt because they have 10 times the people crowded into half the space that I enjoy. And they work hard, and consistently make the best soup I've ever tasted. Still, I have work to do, so.....

RATATATATATATATAT! RATATATATTATATATATATATAT!

Wait a minute! That was louder and closer, and NOT coming from next door! It's coming from......the main deck over my head! There are no TVs up there. What the....?

RATATATATATATATATAT! RATATTATATATATAATATATAT!
RATATATATATATATATAT! RATATATATATATATATATATAT!

That is definitely live fire from automatic weapons, and now it's coming in bursting volleys from multiple weapons at once!

RATATATATATAATATATATATATATATATATAT!

Should I dive for cover? Sound an alarm?

Of course not. By now I realize that our embarked U.S. Marine Corps anti-terrorism force is simply conducting a live fire exercise off the port side, just above my stateroom. I saw them setting up for it when I took a stroll on the deck after supper. Well, surgeons have to actually do surgery to maintain their skills, right? I wouldn't want my heart operation to be the surgeon's first. I haven't touched an actual patient myself in almost ten years. I sure wouldn't want me resuscitating me under that circumstance.

So Marines should practice their skills, just like surgeons, and damage controlmen, and aviators, and ... culinary specialists. Good on ya, Marines!

Still, it's more than a bit disconcerting to hear such close actual live automatic weapon fire, with real bullets. I saw those bullets. They were definitely real. And pointy. And big. And many. And.....lethal.

What about the people in this world for whom the sound of close live fire is a daily life intrusion? Do they know whether it comes from friend or foe? Are they relieved when it finally ceases? Or do they cower in panic fearing a hostile killing force will soon storm into their living or bed room? Do they pray that they will live through the onslaught? Or do they silently wish to offer their own lives to spare their children? What other terrible, unspeakable thoughts and images fill their minds and hearts with each successive RATATATATATATATATAT? Do those vivid images ever become "normal"? Or are they just endured like the other horrors of war?

Aside from the immediate aftermath of 9/11/2001, we Americans just don't suffer such fear of encroaching death and destruction, day after day, week after week. That's good, right? Or is it?

I vaguely remember being alone in a D.C. hotel room on that September 11 morning, and I was indeed frightened like never before in my life. The TV images from New York and the actual smoke I could see rising from the Pentagon that day emblazened my fear. My country, my society, my security was under attack, by whom and to what evil extent I knew not. And, the ennui fostered by a lifetime of relative peace ensured that I never even fathomed the possible choice of sacrificing my own life, in my own home, to spare my loved ones.

But the fearful images soon faded, no further attacks occurred, no constant rifle volleys endured to hone the sharpness of my fear. So, like most Americans, I eventually hit the snooze alarm and went back to sleep. Seemed like that anomolous 9/11 event was nothing more than a fleeting crack in our national security, indeed a profitable opportunity for many citizens. So we just got on with our daily business. We need fear no more.

RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

Or should we? Can we really believe no enemy plots today to do us harm in our own homes? Knowing what happened in 2001, do we dare take that chance...again?

Ooo-rah, Marines! Carry on and keep your skills sharp. And thanks for being here.

Semper Fi