The marines would come through the chow line, four hundred people in a rush. Once a week the captain ordered a launch boat sent out to meet us. Non essential crew could go ashore to relax. That meant going onto a U.S. military base in a Muslim country. We were inside a walled perimiter with armed MP’s manning floodlights. It was a sprawling series of bars filled with 90% men.

The fattest, weirdest, most deformed women would have a train of twenty five men following them around. Horny Marines who hadn’t yet succumb to buttfucking were chasing after these women no man (as fit and young as a marine) in a functioning society would spend two minutes wooing.

It was like a wild west town, saloon after saloon, and the hot nights of desert country. So many men. Some were out of uniform. Some weren’t. Not a long hair in site. Just military men. I had no idea what to do. Drunk, alone, no women.. For me, I only knew 17 people, and most of them were working on the ship.

For these guys, they had whole platoons of familiar faces. I assure you these nights were the strangest nights I’ve lived through. A type of hell. The animal vigor of these Marines was palpable. I was stunned. I’d been a hippy for many years. A slacker. A dishwasher.

Being drunk late one night I rushed towards a group of them, yelling like a drill sargeant…”I want everybody to line up! LINE UP!!! WE’RE GOING INTO TOWN TO SECURE MORE WHISKEY!!!”

Jesus those guys jumped to attention. They were so ready to attack anything…it didn’t matter that what I said made no sense. Muslims don’t have whiskey in town. Alcohol is banned. Very underground. THese Marines were trained. They snapped to attention. I didn’t know what to say next. Imagine being drunk with a squadron of Marines waiting for your next command. I freaked out and ran into a crowd. I was insane.

~V