It seems crazy to say it, but there were times when I would become absolutely bored out of my mind. During patrols, my mind had to be constantly active. Every little bit of my surrounding I had to be aware of. I never knew what lay around the next corner or what surprise may be hidden beneath a rock. I had to scan each and every individual I encountered and quickly assess whether this person posed a threat to me and the rest of my platoon. I would try to memorize patrol routes and keep a mental picture of the surrounding environment so the next day, when we covered the same route, if I noticed anything different, I could instantly determine if it was something to be concerned about. This daily routine kept my brain hyperactive, which was a good thing because I never wanted to become complacent. However, the moment I was able to let my guard down, which usually occurred back at the FOB (forward operating base – Camp Baharia), my brain became like mush, and I’m sure I can say the same for the rest of the Outlaws. Needless to say, when our brains turned to mush and we were able to relax, that was when the boredom set in. And the last thing anyone wants to do is let a Marine get bored. This was most likely why, when we had downtime, the leadership would try to keep us busy with training classes and maintenance schedules. But there was no way they could keep us occupied every second of the day, and that was when stupid things would happen.

*****

One of the dumbest things I ever did as an individual—because I did a ton of stupid things when I was with a group of buddies—actually happened on a patrol. On this particular day when my stupidity was at an all-time high, our mission was to simply do IED sweeps along several routes. After a couple of hours of doing these patrols, we set up a defensive perimeter a few hundred meters from the nearest road. Once we came to a rest, Staff Sergeant Phelps had my team and me set up a defensive perimeter around the vehicle. I ensured all my scouts were good to go, and then I began to settle into a defensive spot of my own. In the meantime, Lance Corporal Peter Rankin, our new driver, began doing a quick survey of the vehicle to ensure everything was properly running, and Sergeant Mike Honigsberg, the gunner, started scanning the surroundings.

After a few minutes, I started to feel myself get slightly bored staring at a never-ending landscape of sand, so I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette, something that had become more of a habit than an addiction. I pulled out a matchbook from one of the MREs I had eaten, ripped out a match, and quickly struck it against the pack to light it up. A couple of puffs and my cigarette began to ease my nerves. I threw the match to the ground and watched as it fell. That was when I noticed these little black pellets sprinkled in the sand around me. I looked a bit farther out, and the black pellets seemed to be everywhere, surrounding our whole position. Not sure what it was, I picked one up and studied it closely.

This was when I should have started to actually use my brain and not let the curious idiot out of the box. Too late, though. I figured I would try a few science experiments with it. I pulled out another match, lit it up, put the small pellet on the ground, and put the match next to it. Instantaneously, the pellet ignited in a bright white flash, and just as soon as it had lit up, it disappeared. That was fuckin’ cool, I thought. I then realized I had stumbled on a whole lot of gunpowder. And again, rather than decide to call it in, I had to light up some more pellets. It helped kill the boredom, which was all I was concerned about at that time. So I began to walk around and collect a whole bunch of pellets, and I stacked them up into a little pile in front of me. When I was satisfied the small mound of gunpowder was big enough, I lit up another match and threw it onto the pile. It let off a hot, bright light for a bit longer this time, nearly singeing my face, and then went out. I figured I needed to do it just one more time for shits and giggles. So I put together a slightly larger pile and threw yet another match on it. Big mistake.

The pile went up in flames, but this time, the flame spread to the other pellets on the ground. “Holy shit!” I yelled to no one in particular. The other scouts looked back at my position in amazement. Staff Sergeant Phelps and Rankin looked over and saw the flame heading toward the vehicle. Phelps, in a state of shock, immediately yelled out to Rankin and ordered him to start the vehicle and move out of the way. He then told us all to get in the vehicle as fast as possible. We all took off as fast as we could toward the back of the vehicle, Rankin fired up the engine, and the second we closed our scout hatches, he gunned it and took our vehicle a good two hundred meters away from the flame. I could swear that flame burned for a good minute before it finally died out.

After we settled into our new position, Phelps turned to me and asked what happened. Knowing I’d be in a heap of trouble, I just told him I had thrown my cigarette on the ground and the gunpowder happened to go off. He bought it, or at least I think he did, because it was never mentioned again. Redd, Zabala, Doc Barajas, and I sure did get a kick out of it, though. We had a good long laugh about it. Needless to say, I never did that again. Instead, there were plenty of other stupid things I would come up with.

*****

No one will ever admit it, but folks used to send care packages full of alcohol to us all the time. And it wasn’t just a couple of guys who received these generous packages, everyone was pretty much guilty. And I’m fairly certain this is a widespread occurrence that happens throughout all the services. Some people might question why we would possibly need alcohol in the middle of a danger zone. It’s simple. It helps relax the mind in a very tense environment. Imagine being hyper vigilant for seven straight months without a break. Having a little bit of alcohol helped ease that tension and gave us a quick break from the craziness that surrounded us.

During my stay out there, two kind individuals happened to send me some alcohol, and I was more than happy to share it with my fellow Outlaws. One package contained some vodka. It was ingeniously hidden in an empty shampoo bottle. The moment I opened up the bottle, I could smell the vodka. So I stashed the bottle under my cot, prepared to share it with a few of my buddies at a later time. However, the next day I received another package that contained a bottle of Crown Royal. I was one lucky guy. I quickly hid the bottle in with some of my clothes and stashed it under my cot. I needed to wait for the right moment to enjoy it with a few friends.

After hiding the bottles away, I told a couple of my buddies about my little fortune. Sprenger, my best buddy who happened to sleep in the cot next to me, seemed to be just as excited as I. I also let Sergeant Nava, another good friend, in on the situation. We quickly came up with a plan. Our platoon began to do the mid afternoon-to-late-night shifts. We figured that the following night, after our shift was over, we’d all stay up a bit later and enjoy a few sips of the Royale. Once we had a plan in place, I was anxious for the day to come. I told a couple of the other Marines in our platoon about it and invited them to join us. I also decided that I wanted to give the bottle of vodka away. Lance Corporal Doug Raymer, one of my scouts at the time, graciously accepted my offer and took the bottle off my hands.

The night of celebration finally came, and we were all eager to let off a little steam. Once most everyone laid down for the night, a group of about five or six of us headed outside the hooch, brought our camping chairs with us, and set up shop right outside. It was daring of us to do it out in the open, but we weren’t overly concerned because it was pitch black out, and we planned on having only a few sips.

When we had all settled down, I slowly pulled the bottle of Royale out of its cover and popped it open. I took a quick sip and passed it on to the guy next to me. As that first sip entered my mouth, I could feel my taste buds scream in enjoyment. It felt amazing to have just a little bit of alcohol for the first time in several months. A few minutes had gone by and we had all taken our fair share of sips. At this point, we all began to feel a slight buzz, and we let go of our inhibitions. One of the guys said we should just keep going and enjoy ourselves. So naturally, I did what anyone else would have done: I took another swig and passed it around. We must have been at this for a good half hour before the bottle went dry. That whole time we were cracking jokes, laughing our asses off, and telling stories of the good ol’ times back in the States. As stupid as it was for us to get buzzed, it was probably one of the most relaxing times I ever had out there. It was my moment of peace in a crazy place.

Our buzz came to an end a few minutes later. Shearer, my former saw gunner and a good friend of mine, was ready to finally take a piss. He walked over to the wall, a wall that happened to be right next to the command center, pulled down his pants, and began to piss all over the wall. Out of nowhere, Captain Shepard appeared from the rooftop of the command center. We must have been loud as hell because we never heard or saw him up there. Fortunately, he didn’t know what we were up to. All he saw was Shearer peeing all over the wall. He called down to us asking who was pissing all over his wall. Shearer admitted to it, and as luck would have it, Shepard only yelled at us from a distance and eventually gave Shearer fire watch duty for a few nights. We all hurriedly cleaned up our mess outside, went to bed, and slept soundly through the night.

As for that bottle of vodka, that was a different story. After handing it off to Raymer, he mainly kept it to himself. He did share a couple of sips with some of the other guys, but for the most part, he was the only one to really enjoy that bottle. He paid the price for it though. The person who sent me that vodka had put it in a shampoo bottle; however, the shampoo bottle still contained soap residue. Poor Raymer consumed nearly that whole bottle one night. It would have been fine if it weren’t for that residue. The next morning he woke up in extreme pain. We were about to go out on patrol, and he was complaining about pain when he took a piss. A few minutes before we were about to leave, Raymer started peeing blood. He was in extreme pain, so we told him to go to the BAS (medical clinic) on the FOB, and we headed out. Apparently, the soap residue did something to Raymer’s stomach that kept him out of commission for the next three days. He made it through it, but he taught us all a lesson: never drink alcohol out of a shampoo bottle.

*****

In every company, there always seems to be certain types of individuals. There’s the tough guy who thinks he can take on everyone. There’s the moto guy who bleeds red and gold and loves the Marine Corps through and through. There’s the smack talker who always talks shit but never backs it up. And then there’s the dealer, the guy who's always looking to make a profit out of any situation. Lance Corporal Doug Raymer happened to be our dealer. In fact, he was the whole company’s dealer. I’m not sure how he came into it, but Raymer found two areas where he could make money: sunglasses and pills.

Every couple of weeks, Raymer would come around with a piece of paper asking Marines if they wanted to place an order for sunglasses. He had some connection where he could get Oakley sunglasses dirt cheap. Later, I found out that Oakley had a military discount. He would take advantage of the discount and charge a small premium on top of it. By the end of the deployment, the whole company was sporting Oakleys, and some had more than a few pairs.

The other interesting and very odd thing Raymer dealt in was pills. And these weren’t any ordinary pills, these were penis-enlargement pills. Close to the beginning of the deployment, we would always see Raymer with a couple of bottles of Magnum Rx. He would religiously take the pills on a daily basis. A few of us were curious about the pills, so he explained the process behind it. You had to take the pills once a day. In order for them to be effective, you also had to do a couple of penis enlargement exercises, mainly yanking on your pecker for about twenty minutes a day. We asked him if it worked, and he said he saw a noticeable difference in a matter of weeks. So with nothing else to keep us occupied, we bought a couple of bottles off of him.

Word began to spread about these pills, and Raymer decided to open up shop. Even Gunny Rossignol got in on it. Raymer was selling Magnum Rx to nearly the whole company. From there on out, Raymer took on a new name, BDR, which was short for Big Dick Raymer. We all figured he was hung like a horse by the end of the deployment because he had taken so many pills. Whether the stuff works or not I have no clue, but I do know that it definitely occupied our time and gave us something to laugh about. There would be nights when I would walk over to the port-a-johns to do my pecker pulling exercises, and I could see lights on in nearly every john. I knew a bunch of other Outlaws were doing the same thing I was about to do. Looking back on it, all I can do is laugh. If the Outlaws are remembered for nothing else, at least we can be recognized as the most well-hung company in the Marine Corps.