Just For The One Star
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Page Two
2020
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Page Two
2020
Chapter One
Forming The Team
I asked, "Just what exactly are you offering me lieutenant?" He replied, "The commanding general told me that anything we needed to win this tactics competition at Quantico, we will in fact receive."
I would rephrase my question, "What is in this for me, personally, lieutenant?"
The lieutenant said, "Sergeant Chapline, you will be exempt from all inspections, deployments, and training operations. Additionally, we won't be wearing uniforms while we are with the MCAS Tactics Team. We will have custom made silk / satin green hats with shirts and shorts that have a logo of "MCAS K-Bay Tactics" stenciled on each piece of clothing. You'll have your own fully furnished office and head facilities. You will also have next to your office a supply hut that you alone will be responsible for operating and maintaining. You may move out of the barracks you live in now, and reside on the compound. In addition to your regular pay, you will also receive a generous rations allowance."
I replied, "This is a hard offer to refuse, lieutenant".
Then the lieutenant said, "Now, before we finalize this deal Sergeant Chapline, what do you have that can guarantee me that we will win the gold medal? I don't care what it takes to win the trophy. You understand me, Sergeant Chapline?" I replied, "Yes sir, I can definitely improvise, overcome and adapt. Right, lieutenant, with no repercussions, correct?" The lieutenant replied, "This is exactly what I mean."
I briefed the lieutenant that a couple of years ago a pot smoking friend of mine from my Camp Lejeune days was promoted into the staff non-commissioned officer ranks and was transferred to Headquarters Marine Corps in Washington, D.C. If he was still there and agreed to somehow gain access to the testing and scoring data, we would have a deal. But, if this fell through, I would have nothing to offer him as far as a guarantee in winning the gold medal for the commanding general.
The lieutenant replied, "Let's just say we have a deal, Sergeant Chapline. I hear you are quite resourceful when the odds are firmly against you." So, that evening, I moved all my gear into the MCAS Tactics complex. I was thrilled with my new living and work quarters.
The next morning I donned my extremely comfortable, and fresh, new pair of MCAS Tactics sweat gear. It was time to get to work. For the next three working days I was mostly on the government autovon phone line attempting to make contact with my old friend from Camp Lejeune. I finally got lucky. He was still stationed at Headquarters Marine Corps.
Mark and I talked for over three hours. From my knowledge, government autovon calls were limited to three minutes, then automatically were cut off. I asked the lieutenant how possibly I talked for hours on government autovon from Hawaii to Washington, D.C. and never had my call either interrupted or terminated. The lieutenant smiled, and said, "Chap, my phone and your phone have no restrictions." I started laughing in disbelief. I was actually beginning to feel as if I was important.
I briefed the lieutenant on the conversation I had with Mark at Headquarters Marine Corps. But, things didn't look good for Mark being able to gain access to the confidential testing and grading files secured at Headquarters Marine Corps.
But, several days later, during my next phone conversation with Mark, I gave him some real incentives to get me some inside information on the testing and grading system for the competition squad. I obtained, from a local supply sergeant on Kaneohe Bay, a whole brand new set of field gear, or otherwise known to Marines as "782" gear. In other words, I would ship to Mark full sets of all brand new Marine desert, jungle, and mountain gear. He knew all this together, as one package, was priceless in the eyes of any jarhead.
But, I had to have made a shrewd deal to get this 782 gear. I brought a grunt unit armorer onto our tactics team. It was a sweet deal I offered him. It was loaded with comforts and benefits. Of course, the armorer couldn't resist my offer. I knew that feeling. So, all I needed now from the armorer was a brand new, never taken out of the box, Colt M45A1 pistol. During the transitioning out from his last unit, the armorer somehow altered records and delivered to me a brand new Colt .45 pistol. When I delivered this to the base supply sergeant, he was overwhelmed with rapture.
Within the next week all of my shady transactions had been completed. Everyone involved in the deal-making was very happy.
Two weeks later I received an anonymous package from the base post office. I was shocked when I opened it up and saw its contents. There it was, copies of the 1980 Tactics Competition Squad Testing and Grading Manual. These documents detailed everything we would need to know to win that coveted gold medal.
It all seemed so easy now. Bring on nine young squared away looking grunts and a squad leader. Begin training on what they would be graded on, and the gold medal, in time, would be all ours. lieutenant was thrilled that the commanding general would most likely get his gold medal.
That night, the lieutenant sent me a present. Someone was knocking at my door. When I opened the door there stood a WM (Woman Marine) with a beautiful smile on her face. Grudgingly, I invited her into my duty hut. But, I was certainly suspicious of any female on our compound.
She introduced herself. I refused to shake her hand. I said, "Let's be perfectly honest with each other, "What the hell is your business here. This area is off-limits to women. So make your case quick and get the hell out of here."
This stubborn angry look came over her face. "Look Chapline!" I quickly cut her off. "That's Sergeant Chapline to you, bitch!"
She shot back, "You can call me Vickie, I'm part of this tactics team. The lieutenant brought me on board."
I retorted, "Just what the fuck good can a woman do here besides giving pussy and blowjobs to all the men here?"
"You rotten bastard!", shouted Vickie. "Before being transferred here, I worked both at Headquarters Marine Corps and Capitol Hill for seven years. How do you think you got hold of your old friend who now works at Headquarters Marine Corps so easily? How do you think he got access to the confidential files of the Competition Squad's testing and grading manual so easily?"
I had to assume I had this stunned look on my face, because Vickie then said, "What's the matter, sergeant, disappointed that I don't give out pussy and do blowjobs?" I remained silent.
Vickie then broke the tension between us. "Again, I'm Vickie, and you are, I assume, Brad?"
I replied, "Yes, would you like a cold beer, Vickie?" She replied, "I thought you would never ask."
I didn't have to brief her on anything. She knew everything that was happening. In fact, Vickie was the one who was truly helping to make everything work.
This was a brilliant move by the lieutenant. Vickie was, in essence, our silent partner. In Washington, D.C., she knew where to go, who to see, and how to make arrangements for deal making. This was one sharp gal. I liked her. She was making my job easy.
The selection process of nine Marine grunts and one squad leader to the MCAS Tactics team was now complete. Each Marine had a high IQ, had a well-muscled, agile body. Additionally, each grunt had an impeccable service record.
The final addition to our team was the selection of four former boot camp drill instructors. As a unit, we were now fully prepared to begin training operations within the next ten days.
It was time for me to manage the purchase and setup of our provisional supply and armory rooms.
I had ordered a slew of M-16 rifles, magazines, bullets, hand grenades, and starlight scopes. But, the most shocking of all was the five cases of rocket launchers I was to receive.
Forming The Team
I asked, "Just what exactly are you offering me lieutenant?" He replied, "The commanding general told me that anything we needed to win this tactics competition at Quantico, we will in fact receive."
I would rephrase my question, "What is in this for me, personally, lieutenant?"
The lieutenant said, "Sergeant Chapline, you will be exempt from all inspections, deployments, and training operations. Additionally, we won't be wearing uniforms while we are with the MCAS Tactics Team. We will have custom made silk / satin green hats with shirts and shorts that have a logo of "MCAS K-Bay Tactics" stenciled on each piece of clothing. You'll have your own fully furnished office and head facilities. You will also have next to your office a supply hut that you alone will be responsible for operating and maintaining. You may move out of the barracks you live in now, and reside on the compound. In addition to your regular pay, you will also receive a generous rations allowance."
I replied, "This is a hard offer to refuse, lieutenant".
Then the lieutenant said, "Now, before we finalize this deal Sergeant Chapline, what do you have that can guarantee me that we will win the gold medal? I don't care what it takes to win the trophy. You understand me, Sergeant Chapline?" I replied, "Yes sir, I can definitely improvise, overcome and adapt. Right, lieutenant, with no repercussions, correct?" The lieutenant replied, "This is exactly what I mean."
I briefed the lieutenant that a couple of years ago a pot smoking friend of mine from my Camp Lejeune days was promoted into the staff non-commissioned officer ranks and was transferred to Headquarters Marine Corps in Washington, D.C. If he was still there and agreed to somehow gain access to the testing and scoring data, we would have a deal. But, if this fell through, I would have nothing to offer him as far as a guarantee in winning the gold medal for the commanding general.
The lieutenant replied, "Let's just say we have a deal, Sergeant Chapline. I hear you are quite resourceful when the odds are firmly against you." So, that evening, I moved all my gear into the MCAS Tactics complex. I was thrilled with my new living and work quarters.
The next morning I donned my extremely comfortable, and fresh, new pair of MCAS Tactics sweat gear. It was time to get to work. For the next three working days I was mostly on the government autovon phone line attempting to make contact with my old friend from Camp Lejeune. I finally got lucky. He was still stationed at Headquarters Marine Corps.
Mark and I talked for over three hours. From my knowledge, government autovon calls were limited to three minutes, then automatically were cut off. I asked the lieutenant how possibly I talked for hours on government autovon from Hawaii to Washington, D.C. and never had my call either interrupted or terminated. The lieutenant smiled, and said, "Chap, my phone and your phone have no restrictions." I started laughing in disbelief. I was actually beginning to feel as if I was important.
I briefed the lieutenant on the conversation I had with Mark at Headquarters Marine Corps. But, things didn't look good for Mark being able to gain access to the confidential testing and grading files secured at Headquarters Marine Corps.
But, several days later, during my next phone conversation with Mark, I gave him some real incentives to get me some inside information on the testing and grading system for the competition squad. I obtained, from a local supply sergeant on Kaneohe Bay, a whole brand new set of field gear, or otherwise known to Marines as "782" gear. In other words, I would ship to Mark full sets of all brand new Marine desert, jungle, and mountain gear. He knew all this together, as one package, was priceless in the eyes of any jarhead.
But, I had to have made a shrewd deal to get this 782 gear. I brought a grunt unit armorer onto our tactics team. It was a sweet deal I offered him. It was loaded with comforts and benefits. Of course, the armorer couldn't resist my offer. I knew that feeling. So, all I needed now from the armorer was a brand new, never taken out of the box, Colt M45A1 pistol. During the transitioning out from his last unit, the armorer somehow altered records and delivered to me a brand new Colt .45 pistol. When I delivered this to the base supply sergeant, he was overwhelmed with rapture.
Within the next week all of my shady transactions had been completed. Everyone involved in the deal-making was very happy.
Two weeks later I received an anonymous package from the base post office. I was shocked when I opened it up and saw its contents. There it was, copies of the 1980 Tactics Competition Squad Testing and Grading Manual. These documents detailed everything we would need to know to win that coveted gold medal.
It all seemed so easy now. Bring on nine young squared away looking grunts and a squad leader. Begin training on what they would be graded on, and the gold medal, in time, would be all ours. lieutenant was thrilled that the commanding general would most likely get his gold medal.
That night, the lieutenant sent me a present. Someone was knocking at my door. When I opened the door there stood a WM (Woman Marine) with a beautiful smile on her face. Grudgingly, I invited her into my duty hut. But, I was certainly suspicious of any female on our compound.
She introduced herself. I refused to shake her hand. I said, "Let's be perfectly honest with each other, "What the hell is your business here. This area is off-limits to women. So make your case quick and get the hell out of here."
This stubborn angry look came over her face. "Look Chapline!" I quickly cut her off. "That's Sergeant Chapline to you, bitch!"
She shot back, "You can call me Vickie, I'm part of this tactics team. The lieutenant brought me on board."
I retorted, "Just what the fuck good can a woman do here besides giving pussy and blowjobs to all the men here?"
"You rotten bastard!", shouted Vickie. "Before being transferred here, I worked both at Headquarters Marine Corps and Capitol Hill for seven years. How do you think you got hold of your old friend who now works at Headquarters Marine Corps so easily? How do you think he got access to the confidential files of the Competition Squad's testing and grading manual so easily?"
I had to assume I had this stunned look on my face, because Vickie then said, "What's the matter, sergeant, disappointed that I don't give out pussy and do blowjobs?" I remained silent.
Vickie then broke the tension between us. "Again, I'm Vickie, and you are, I assume, Brad?"
I replied, "Yes, would you like a cold beer, Vickie?" She replied, "I thought you would never ask."
I didn't have to brief her on anything. She knew everything that was happening. In fact, Vickie was the one who was truly helping to make everything work.
This was a brilliant move by the lieutenant. Vickie was, in essence, our silent partner. In Washington, D.C., she knew where to go, who to see, and how to make arrangements for deal making. This was one sharp gal. I liked her. She was making my job easy.
The selection process of nine Marine grunts and one squad leader to the MCAS Tactics team was now complete. Each Marine had a high IQ, had a well-muscled, agile body. Additionally, each grunt had an impeccable service record.
The final addition to our team was the selection of four former boot camp drill instructors. As a unit, we were now fully prepared to begin training operations within the next ten days.
It was time for me to manage the purchase and setup of our provisional supply and armory rooms.
I had ordered a slew of M-16 rifles, magazines, bullets, hand grenades, and starlight scopes. But, the most shocking of all was the five cases of rocket launchers I was to receive.
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