I remember one morning, however, finding my very large--I used to call it the USS Nimitz--and very old-fashion antique wooden desk completely cleared off: the phone on the floor, my computer on a chair, papers, pens, paper clips, and photos scattered around the room. I thought to myself, "React drill. Never mind, I don't want to get the Gunny into trouble because some of his guys did not clean up." I put the stuff back on my desk and resumed the life of the dutiful drone. A few days later this happened again. This time, as I walked into my office, Long was directly behind me coming to see me about some administrative issue. She saw the state of the room, and, laughing, said, "The Marines must have been drilling last night. Don't worry about it, I will talk to the Gunny." Long cheerfully helped me put all my bureaucratic detritus back in place.
This now becomes a sad story and I will try to tell it as accurately as possible.
Oh, yes, the kicker: the young marine was leaving the service to marry Long! He worried that she might be pregnant and wanted to do the right thing.
We had the young marine shipped out immediately; he was put under confinement, and ordered not to contact Long. In sum, Long ruined a young man's career. She, perhaps needless to point out, was not involved in victimless crime.
One more detail, Long had kept the trysts with the marine a secret from AC--that plays a role later on.
That smell . . . kind of reminds me of my old desk . . .
Part VIII coming up . . .