I Have to Admit It

I think each of us has something in our past we don’t like to talk about. Something so terrible you’d never tell to anyone, even your best friend. Mine is something that has caused me many sleepless nights and loss of what little hair I have left. It has even driven me to many $2.50 hours of therapy resulting in my now having to tell someone the truth.

You see I wasn’t always in helicopters. I know you thought that I had been all these years. You see. I lied. At one time I served a tour in a squadron whose aircraft did not have an “H” in its designation. I never meant to deceive anyone by not telling. It’s just that I was ashamed to have anyone know. But now, I need to confess what I’d done. I needed to get my life back in order so that I could live like a normal human being once again. And that’s the reason I’m standing before all of you now. You see I served a tour in transports.

I didn’t mean to be in a transport squadron. It just happened. One day I was assigned to Cheerless Point and there I was. Standing beside an aircraft called an R-4Q2 (renamed C-119), which is not something you tell someone in polite conversation. I don’t know how to explain those aircraft. Someone once called them “shuttling shithouses” because once you fired off one engine it shook so badly, it caused the runway lights to shake out of their concrete pads. As if standing near one wasn’t bad enough, riding in them was a deafening experience.

Nobody told me the R-4Q was soon to be retired to become weight loss clinic machines. Our squadron, VMGR-252, soon received a new silver aircraft. It was a GV-1. A name even the Gods in Washington despised. So, they changed its name to KC-130F. At this point I knew my monitor was punishing me for something I had done wrong in at least two and up to four of my previous lives.

I’m ashamed to admit I rode those aircraft all over the Atlantic and ate every TV dinner that was served. Listen, I’m telling you now I didn’t enjoy those trips to Spain. Or the ones I took to Bermuda or Gitmo. I’m telling you it wasn’t something I wanted to do. I HAD TO DO IT.

Then, after being in that squadron for almost four years I was told I was going to be an instructor on helicopters. I was going to go be with real aircraft that had blades that folded and piston engines and wheels that didn’t retract and, and. I was to be free. This Marine was heading for his destiny.

There, I’ve now told you my story. It wasn’t very pretty I know. But, I had to tell you or I’d never be able to walk in the company of good men again. Now, when I go to meet my maker, I can say I’ve talked to my brothers and they have forgiven me. I’m at peace.