THIS IS AN UGLY LITTLE STORY I HAVEN'T PUBLISHED BEFORE. I'M DOING IT NOW SIMPLY BECAUSE IT'S THE SECOND OF 3 PARTS, AND SHOWS A MOMENT'S CONVERSATION AMONG A FEW YOUNG SERVICEMEN IN 1963. I CHOOSE NOT TO CENSOR IT, OR APOLOGIZE FOR IT. THIS IS WHAT THEY SAID, THE WAY THEY SAID IT...
29 PALMS 2) Old Enough to Bleed
It was Monday. In the squad bay of Headquarters Platoon, "K" Battery, 4th Battalion, 11th Marines, we were hashing over the weekend's liberty. This was about the time I remember a Pfc named Waymire coming back from his weekend announcing something really new, really big. There was this hot new group, four guys from England, played this great music, wore their hair clear down to here (putting his hand on his shirt collar). Called themselves the Beatles.
"Beetles?!" we howled. "What a stupid fucking name! That’s just an ugly bug.”
"Naw," Waymire corrected. "Beatles, b-e-A-t-l-e-s. As in 'beat,' or 'beatnik,' get it?" He was feeling pretty smug with his knowledge of the latest hot civilian thing.
Two of the guys, Lance Corporals, were buddies who went out together to San Bernardino or Riverside or one of the other towns that were within driving distance if you could get your hands on a car that worked. I was nineteen; they were a little older.
They were talking about their girl friends, two girls who were both fourteen. Both had just said they'd finally gotten to fuck the girls. It had been touchy, with nervous parents not liking the age difference. The guys said they'd played it just right, being patient with both the parents and the girls themselves. They were embarrassed talking about it, too proud not to.
Someone made a crack about cradle robbing. One of the guys - the taller one, is all I remember - answered, "Hey. If they're old enough to bleed, they're old enough to butcher."
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