PETER McCOLLUM

JARHEAD JESS

At the end of my fourth month at Student Company (and the fourth week after I should have graduated), I was inserted into the next group of students. The first two classroom portions went by quickly, and I soon found myself back in the photojournalism class that I had previously failed. This class was directed by an instructor from the Navy, and she made photography much less intimidating.

However, on the day our partners were assigned, I was told that mine would be a female Marine Corps sergeant. Not only did this mean no goofing off, but there was no way I could have a pinch of Kodiak around her. The Marines all knew that we weren’t supposed to be using tobacco, and I knew for a fact that a Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) was not going to tolerate it.

This marine was an imposing woman, too. She was only three or four inches shorter than I was, but she was built like an athlete. You could tell that she could hold her own in a hand-to-hand combat situation, probably with several people simultaneously. She was the type of soldier who made you glad you weren’t fighting for the other side.

 *****

Our first few assignments went by quickly and with minimal verbal exchange. Each day we were taught a photography technique and then sent to the campus grounds to apply it. These were essentially assignments that were done individually, so there seemed little point in assigning partners other than accountability.

I was rigid when I was around my partner. She rarely spoke and seemed to be very severe with her Marine Corps subordinates. More than once, she stopped what she was doing to force a couple of privates to do push-ups. I figured it was only a matter of time before I would be in the same position.

 In the second week of photography class, I finally had to break down and ask my partner a question. She smiled sympathetically as I stammered.

“You can call me Jess,” she said.

 This, of course, was against the rules. Not only was she a sergeant, but I was still in training. You do not call a superior by their first name under any circumstances. This kind of infraction, no matter how trivial it may seem, can earn a soldier an enormous upbraiding.

 I felt she was trying to reach out, but I politely refused. She then told me I could call her ‘Sarge,’ and we settled on that. Sarge was almost as serious of an infraction, especially to a member of the Marine Corps; but I accepted the olive branch, consequences be damned.

 Jess turned out to be pretty cool. She always made good grades on her assignments, and through her personal tutelage, I was finally able to learn how to operate the same camera that I was beginning to believe had thwarted me. She would even let me take a pinch of Kodiak in her presence, provided we were far enough away from the school.

 How did she find out? Well, as it turns out, Hanson and I were not as subtle as we thought.

As far as Marines go, my photography partner remains one of the coolest I have ever met. I’m not often wrong when it comes to being a judge of character, but this was one of those times when I was very glad to be wrong.

*****

 One day, we were given an assignment to photograph each other. In this exercise, we were expected to demonstrate a camera technique known as “depth-of-field.” This technique is supposed to bring detail from the foreground and the background into the photo. Although I may not even be describing it correctly, it was no less a difficult technique to learn.

 We toyed with shots all morning until we broke for lunch. An examination of our photos when we returned to school revealed that we had finished our assignment early, so Jess proposed that we take a few humorous photos.

For the duration of our partnership, we never told jokes. Therefore, when she spoke of doing something humorous, I had no idea what kind of a sense of humor a person like that could have. However, this was my chance to try and get away with something, so I decided to say one of the goofiest things I could think of:

“You should photograph me in a bed of flowers.”

“Okay,” she replied without hesitation.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s go do it.” She began walking. I followed her to a large bed of flowers outside the school, where she told me to lie down. She was either setting me up for big trouble or I had genuinely underestimated my photography partner.

“Hurry up. Get down there.” She ordered.

 Not one to back down from such an absurd order, I did as I was told. I lay amongst a beautiful arrangement of flowers, carefully inserting myself so as not to destroy them, then crossed my legs behind me and put my head in my hands, gazing thoughtfully outside the photo.

*Click*

Holy shit. Had we just done something humorous? We giggled, then ran upstairs to the computer lab to see what we had done.

Impressed beyond my wildest imagination, I sent the image to the printer. What I had done was risky business. This waste of school resources would not only be frowned upon but more than likely reported to my drill sergeants. However, I agreed to all the consequences the moment I lay down in that bed of flowers, so why not have a souvenir?

Much to my dismay, a Marine Corps gunnery sergeant met me at the printer. He was frowning and motioned for me to come over to him.

He was holding the photo.

“What kind of shit is this?” The gunnery sergeant demanded. His face was red, and a bead of sweat had begun to trickle down his temple.

I said nothing. What could I say? I stood there dumbly, waiting to have my neck snapped, a heart attack, or to be raptured.

“Who’s your damn partner? Are you with Hanson again?”

 I gasped and swallowed hard. He already knew who I was. That was REALLY bad.

“Negative, gunnery sergeant,” I said once I finally remembered how to speak.

“Then who took this f*cking photo?”

I said nothing, but he followed my eyes as I slowly turned my head and looked at my partner. She was smiling.

 The gunnery sergeant’s angry face became twisted with confusion. I could see the struggle in his eyes as I tilted my head ever-so-slightly to see his reaction.

I could practically hear the internal dialogue. There was no way that a member of his United States Marine Corps could ever stoop to such a shenanigan!

 Especially a SERGEANT in his United States Marine Corps!

After a few moments of mulling, it over, he shoved the photo into my chest and ordered me to sit down. I did as I was told, but when I got to my desk, the gunnery sergeant was still staring in bewilderment in my direction.

Peter McCollum    ©    2024