# I was ordered to marry my sister



## john1948 (Oct 13, 2014)

We all got a month’s leave after basic and I went back to Utah to visit my family before shipping out.  It was uneventful but nice.  We all knew the possible consequences of what I was doing so there was a tearful goodbye at the airport with my whole family.  It felt a little like a funeral, but I guess we all had to deal with that possibility as we said our last goodbyes and I boarded the plane, waving and smiling at all of them as I climbed up the boarding ramp.

Two weeks back from leave, doing well in Infantry training, one day I walked into the CO's office to pick up my mail.  I'd been told there was a letter for me.  Walking into the office I could tell something was up because the Gunny was holding the letter and giving me a stern look.  

Turned out some of the other guys had opened the letter for a joke 'cause they saw it was from a girl, and it was.  The Gunny handed the letter to me and I started reading.  

It was a letter from my sister Debbie saying she was pregnant. It was good news and I was pleased to be an Uncle, but was pretty pissed off about the letter being opened.  Figuring I better not say anything about it, I clamped my mouth shut and looked at the Gunny.  When he saw I had no comment he told me we had to go in and see the Major.

Naturally I was thinking to myself "What the hell is the big deal about a letter from my sister?!".  I was furious by the time we made it to the Majors office so it was a downright galling and herculean effort keeping my mouth shut by now.  They'd opened my mail and they were taking ME to the Majors office?!

As I stood there stonily silent at full attention, the Gunny explained to the major that the letter indicated I'd gotten my girlfriend pregnant.

  I was so shocked as my anger all turned to disgust and disbelief in a split second, all I could do was stand there with my mouth open staring at the Gunny.  The Major looked at the letter and I guess he took my shocked look for a confession 'cause then he said, "Well son, for the good of the service you're going to have to go home and marry this girl.  We're giving you another thirty days leave to get the job done and that's an order."  

I was past speechless at this point, but another thirty days leave sounded pretty good to me.  Sounded like pretty good payback for opening my mail too.  I snapped back to full attention, gave an enthusiastic "Aye Aye Sir!", did a snappy ninety degree turn, and marched out the door.

My squad thought I'd lost my mind when I got there 'cause I must have laughed my head off for about the whole time I was packing.  The stewardesses on the flight home kept an eye on me too since I couldn't help occasionally giggling for no apparent reason.

My whole family was shocked to see me again and got a big kick out of my "orders".  True to my command I did ask my sister to marry me right at a family dinner with her husband sitting there about busting a gut laughing.  She said she appreciated my generous offer but declined due to the legal complication of bigamy, and added that she didn't find me very attractive anyway.  

Spending the next thirty days doing my best to fulfill the spirit of the Majors order, I dated as many of the girls in my neighborhood as possible in hopes of finding some marriage material.  Not much luck there, but I did have a wonderful time!

We got up early the last day to catch my flight.  Mama didn't want to go, saying "I've been through that once and it's enough!", so my dad and I drove alone. 

We talked a surprising amount about surprisingly little.  It was like we just wanted to hear each other’s voice and were trying to work around to something else, but couldn't admit it and couldn't quite get to it.  

Looking back as I boarded the flight to California, dad stood almost at attention, looking steadily at me as though he were taking a picture.  There was a single tear on his face.  Beginning to tear up myself, I waved one last time, and ducked into the plane.

Sadly I had to report back to the Major that I had asked the girl but she'd turned me down and said I was an ugly sumbitch to boot.  He excused me then handed me orders.  I was shipping out to Vietnam in three days.




John Mizell witnessed the early days of the civil rights movement in the deep South from moral high ground.

“ Joseph and me, black and white, stood at the window watching that bus load of NAACP folks while they started marching around in front of the school with signs about school segregation and how bad their children were being treated.  Would you believe it, about the next day the KKK showed up in some trucks with sheets, cone hats, and all.  They were carrying signs about racial purity and pushing their kids out of school.  

Both sides had quite a surprise when school let out though.  I guess nobody had bothered to look inside.”

He saw the good die young early in his life.

“  "GOD DAMN YOU!!" Grampa roared.  A hellfire and brimstone preaching man understands that sort of talk, and he meant every syllable.  Launching himself at that swaying,  slurring excuse for a human being, he managed to knock him down and would have killed that fellow if my father hadn’t stopped him.  He could have killed that man a hundred times with my blessing if it'd undo what I was seeing.  My best friend and protector, my hero Roy Mizell, was dead in a pool of blood under that drunk’s pickup at the age of twelve.   Donald died too.

They were buried on the same sunny day with the whole community in attendance.  My seven year old mind expected them to get up out of their coffins and play as I walked by what seemed to be their sleeping figures, napping in the Sunday clothes they hated so much.”

The adventures of his childhood were a preparatory school for dangerous days.

“I raised my leg to step over a log and stopped in mid-stride.  This particular log had two rows of spines and looked a little scaly.  I guess I didn‘t need to be completely certain about the actual size of this particular alligator in order to start running ‘cause I did and didn’t look back neither.”

Making the first real decision of his adult life, he became the property of the United States Government at the age of seventeen by volunteering for the Vietnam era Marine Corp. 

"I'm supposing when Corporal Easy hit his high notes all the faces,  screaming,  and  swearing sort of blended every time he'd said the same thing into a single searing column of Marine truth  that he released in  molten streams of verbal abuse.  When he got rolling  they gathered like volcanic tributaries into a single stunningly inspired flow that  could stiffen your spine until it cracked, and make your hair stand up so hard it would lift the hat right off your head.

You may think I'm kidding about that, but I tell you what, it was no joke.  If there was any swearing, ****** innuendo, racial slur, blasphemy, or just plain mean and nasty thing those Drill Instructors forgot to say to us I must not have been there that day, and they must have felt remiss in their duties."

Vietnam finished the job the Marines had started. 

“The wire started singing as they swarmed in over the perimeter.  Our claymores were exploding in their faces and the fifty cal crossfire was harvesting whole squads, but they kept coming like it was confetti.  I’d never seen men so anxious to get on with dying.     We had to be outnumbered  at least four to one.  

I’d seen a man throw a live chicken in water full of alligators once.  They’d hit our main radio already and all I had was a hand radio, a .45 pistol, and about half a prayer.  I got my ass on that radio and started demanding the choppers that Colonel from White Elephant had promised, figuring I’d better come up with something better than that chicken did and in less time…there was no answer. 

http://www.amazon.com/Where-Blacktop-Ends-John-Mizell/dp/0615867464


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