"I'll be a sonofabitch," Jake said.
"Why not, Jake?"
"It happens. Some people change when they're on film."
"That's not what I meant, Jake, and, goddamn it, you know it!"
"Oh," Jake Dillon said. "That."
"Yeah, that. Why not?"
"In addition to two thousand other reasons, I'm in the Marine Corps; I won't be around."
"Fuck the two thousand reasons. I know what you're thinking, and they're bullshit. And you won't be in the Marine Corps forever."
"Once a Marine, always a Marine. Haven't you ever heard that?"
"Goddamn you, Jake," Veronica said, her voice breaking.
"You think you could wait until the goddamn war is over?"
She met his eyes.
"What is that, a proposal? Can I consider myself proposed to?"
"If it makes you feel better."
"Is it, or isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess it is."
"You're not just saying that?"
"No."
"You're supposed to drop on your knees when you propose."
"You've been watching too many movies. People don't do that."
"You will, or I'll know you're just bullshitting me."
Major Jake Dillon looked at her for a moment, then shrugged and dropped to one knee.
"This OK?" he asked.
"Honey, that's fine," Veronica Wood said.
[ONE]
Headquarters
First Marine Division
Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands
1115 Hours 2 November 1942
When Lieutenant Colonel Jack (NMI) Stecker, USMCR, walked into Division Headquarters, he was wearing frayed, sweat- and oil-stained utilities and a pair of boondockers covered with mud and mildew.
He was armed with a U.S. Rifle, Caliber.30-06, Ml, commonly known as the Garand. He carried it slung over his shoulder, with two eight-round, en bloc clips attached to its leather strap.
Early on in the battle for Guadalcanal, when then Major Stecker put a pair of bullets from his Garand into the heads of two Japanese soldiers (and did it firing offhand, with only two shots, at a distance that was later measured as 190 yards), he cast considerable doubt upon the widely held, near-sacred belief among Marines that the U.S. Rifle, Caliber.30-06, Ml903 Springfield was the finest rifle in the world.
He also wore a shoulder holster, which held a Colt M1911A1 pistol. These were originally issued to Second Lieutenant Richard J. Stecker, USMCR. When Colonel Stecker went to visit his son a few minutes before he was evacuated by air, he found them lying under Lieutenant Stecker's cot in the hospital.
Certain minor disciplinary and logistical problems within the First Marine Division resulted from Colonel Stecker's carrying of the Garand and his wearing of the shoulder holster. These problems were in no way due to any action or behavior of the Colonel. They just kind of grew like topsy:
As it happened, Marine regulations proscribed shoulder holsters, except for those engaged in special operations, such as tank crewmen and aviators. Naturally, no superior officer was about to challenge Colonel Stecker's right to wear one. Most senior officers, including his regimental commander, had a pretty good idea how he came by it and why he was wearing it. And this wasn't Quantico, anyway, this was Guadalcanal, and what difference did it make?
As for the Garand, no one, of course, was going to question the right of a battalion commander to arm himself with any weapon that struck his fancy. And this would have been true even for those battalion commanders who did not win the Medal of Honor in France in World War I.
But there is a tendency in the military, just as in civilian life, to emulate those we hold in high regard. Imitation is indeed the most sincere form of flattery. Colonel Stecker not only enjoyed a reputation as one hell of a Marine, but he very much looked the part: He was personally imposing-tall, erect, and muscular.
If Colonel Stecker felt that the way to go about armed was with a Garand and a.45 in a shoulder holster, then a large number of majors, captains, lieutenants, sergeants major, and gunnery sergeants (those, in other words, who believed with some reason they could get away with it) clearly felt that this was a practice to be emulated.
Though extra shoulder holsters were not available to the Division's tankers (much to their regret), the Cactus Air Force did in fact have access to a goodly supply of them. And for the proper price, they were in a position to meet the perceived demand. A barter commerce was already well established between Henderson Field and Espiritu Santo (and other rear-area bases). Japanese flags (many, to be honest, of local manufac-' ture) and other artifacts were sent to the rear via R4D or other supply aircraft, while various items (many of which had a tendency to gurgle) were sent forward in payment thereof. It was not at all difficult to add shoulder holsters to the list of rear-area goods that could be exchanged for souvenirs of the battlefield.
In exchange for a bona fide (as opposed to locally manufactured) Japanese flag or other genuine artifact of war, the Marines of the Air Group would provide shoulder holsters to their comrades-in-arms of the First Marine Division.
Until the Army came to Guadalcanal, laying one's hands on a Garand posed a much greater problem. But the Army came equipped with Garands.
Mysteriously, almost immediately upon the Army's arrival, these weapons seemed to vanish from the possession of the men they'd been issued to. And after the Army became engaged in military actions, virtually no Garands were recovered from the various scenes of battle and returned to Army control.
By then, of course, the value of the Garand was apparent to all hands: Among other demonstrable advantages, for instance, it fired eight shots as fast as you could pull the trigger. On the other hand, a Springfield held only five rounds, and you had to work the bolt mechanism to fire one. Thus, when he happened to notice a Garand in the hands of one of his riflemen, it is perhaps not surprising that even the saltiest second lieutenant (the kind of officer who devoutly believed in the sacredness of regulations) did not point an accusing finger, shout "that weapon is stolen!", and take steps to return it to its proper owner.
The more senior officers, meanwhile, seemed to be so overwhelmed by the press of their duties that they were unable to devote time to investigating reports of theft of small arms from the U.S. Army. This understandable negligence did, however, lead to occasional differences of opinion between the Army and the Marines. Indeed, when one Marine colonel informed an Army captain that Marines never lost their rifles and that the Marine Corps could not be held responsible for the Army's lax training in that area, the Army captain was seen to leave the regimental headquarters in a highly aroused state of indignation.
"The General will see you now, Colonel," Major General Archer A. Vandegrift's sergeant major said to Colonel Stecker.
Lieutenant Colonel Stecker nodded his thanks to the sergeant major for holding open for him the piece of canvas that was General Vandegrift's office door and stepped inside.
"Good morning, Sir."
"Good morning," Vandegrift said.
Vandegrift was not alone in his office. There was another colonel there; he stood up when he saw Stecker and smiled.
His was a familiar face to Stecker, but he was a newcomer to Guadalcanal. That was evident by his brand-new utilities and boondockers, and by the unmarred paint on his steel helmet. And because he was wearing a spotless set of web gear, complete to suspenders.