and Mary met while attending and married a short time after graduating. The reason the business continues is it’s their life. All they have is the building, memories of happening times, their faithful dog, Gus, and each other. Ah, Gus. A large, old German Shepard with a wonderful disposition, he will rear on his hind legs, place his front paws on your shoulders, and dance to music from the antique jukebox. One can lose themselves in a bygone era.
Victor and Chet have pleasant moments enjoying each other’s company. In their short time together, the conversation centers on stories by Chet of the war. A statement by him is one Victor will never forget. “Whoever said, ‘War is Hell,’ was wrong. It’s the life afterward that’s Hades.” Quite the pool sharks, they indulge in a few breaks during their get-togethers. Chet has the up on Victor, even though the younger man is a tough competitor. Late one evening, after leaving the establishment, Victor suggests stopping in a strip club. Jeannie, his favorite private dancer is working. When Andrei was alive, he and Victor would go there to see her performances. They call her, “Shake ‘em up Jeannie.”
Victor recollects about Andrei and his time in the Corps. Their recruit training lasts the longest of the U.S. military services, 12-weeks. His stint was at the exclusive resort of Parris Island, South Carolina in the middle of summer. Sand fleas you swear are bigger than rats, mosquitoes as large, heat, severe thunderstorms, and constant degradation. There is a purpose. It is to build you up.
This Recruit Training Depot is one of two for the Corps, the other is in San Diego, California. The stories you hear and read are true. Among the things you’ll learn, of many, is never call a Drill Instructor “Drill Sergeant” and don’t refer to them as “you.” To say the least, it is an experience you will never forget.
One incident, in particular, Andrei faced pertained to “General Orders.” There are eleven. On the first day, the platoon was told to sound off their General Orders individually when commanded, the Junior Drill Instructor, a Sergeant, asked Andrei when it came his time. No one else could remember any of them all the way through. “Private, what’s your first general Order?”
“Sir. To take charge of this post and all government property in view. Sir.”
The DI looked in contemplation for a minute and barked, “What’s your second General Order?” Again, a flawless response. Third, fourth, fifth, and so on through the eleventh. When finished, the JDI stared, glanced at his feet, and said, “Thank you.” He did a left face and departed the squad bay. Andrei never knew for a fact but thought he may have been the only recruit to ever be thanked by a Marine Corps Drill Instructor. Chet smiles and says, I would have liked that man.”
Victor is antiwar but listens with intensity as Chet reminisces about his days in-country. At first, Chet was gung-ho to enlist in the Marines and fight communists. As time passed, he turned against the policies of the United States. Pro-military and pro-USA, his opinion of the war soured. Too many of his buddies lost their lives in what he came to see as a senseless conflict. Among them, two he went through boot camp with at Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island, South Carolina. He was one of the last to leave the capital of Saigon in 1975 after the North Vietnamese attacked and overran the country. A noble cause, it was the political interference and micro-management of the military which made him bitter. Former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara did not make his list of favorite people.
As are many, Andrei Ruchkin was of the firm belief the United States should do a better job taking care of its military veterans. Their needs, health, and welfare ought to come before illegal immigrants, drug addicts, people who are too lazy to work or better themselves, criminals, and other nations. He wasn’t saying all assistance or aid should be cut off, rather, more should go to those who served and sacrificed honorably. A nation owes its respect, admiration, and gratitude to these men and women.
Once ramrod straight and proud, he now exhibits a slight stoop. His visible stature belies his tenacity. Short, yet taller than Victor, Chet is a divorcé with two children, a male and a female. He is a good father and provider. One infant, a male, died two days after birth. His wife put the blame on Chet and filed for divorce. A smoker during his time in the Corps, he kicked the habit after his first child was born. Victor enjoys listening to Chet tell yarns and truths about his kids since he yearns to father two-and-a-half of his own.
Few friendships last long, and the aphorism holds true in this case. The demise comes from the death of Chet, the result of Agent Orange exposure. Father-figures are scarce in Victor’s life. The bar shuts with the passing of John and Mary.
There is a saying, “No good deed goes unpunished.” One can’t imagine the number of people subjugated to the expression. Those who give their all from the goodness of their heart not expecting unrequitance, a slap in the face, or to get crapped on. Oh, to experience the unvarnished love of a cat or dog, the touch of an appreciative and uncontrolling woman; read the eyes and weep.
Chapter Seven
In his third decade, Victor becomes crazed with the ‘Car Wash’ song. For an unknown reason, it sticks in his mind like silly melodies do, and loops over and over. His jaw clenches when the tune starts. He faces challenging events. His life, already topsy-turvy, turns more calamitous. “Mex,” his beloved Chihuahua, passes away. His younger brother is committed to a psychiatric hospital for psychotic episodes. After the heartrending suicide of Andrei, he relies on his friend Lamar to take him shopping for necessities. A stop at a traffic light intersecting a busy thoroughfare results in a rear-end impact by a delivery truck. Lamar’s car is totaled. Victor sustains severe whiplash. It dogs him for years. What else can go wrong in his young existence?
Victor’s future wife’s name is Fontaine. A frank woman, she’s one-hundred percent human. Fontaine is brash and wild. As an only child, she is sheltered in a world of splendor. Her parents, pets, and Nanny, Ms. Goodhands, are the loves of her life. From the time she started speaking until about eight, Fontaine had trouble pronouncing, “Goodhands”. For the love of Christ, no one could figure how she came to choose the nickname, “Pots”. Inquiries to her were met with the reply, “I don’t know.” She was born and raised along the eastern Georgia shore; her family moved to the western part of the state when she was four.
Her parent's time and efforts devoted to their jobs, it falls on Ms. Goodhands to raise and instill in Fontaine certain skills and traits her parents don’t have time for. Raised in a large impoverished family in rural Kentucky, she learned out of necessity how to survive. She knows how to fish, hunt, find shelter, and endure the most damning conditions. Intelligent and street-wise, she makes sure these aptitudes are passed to her charge.
The fact they only live three blocks from Victor’s family, yet never knew each other, is amazing.
Her favorite maternal aunt passes away from cancer when the girl is five. It has a profound effect and guides her aggressive fund-raising goals as an adult to eradicate the disease. She donates thousands of dollars each year towards finding a cure and raises millions.
She is far from being a Tom Boy yet never enjoyed playing with dolls. Her dogs and cats are her children and she excels at being a good mommy to them. If allowed, she would take in every stray. Large decorative dollhouses are spread throughout the house. They are big enough to accommodate her four-legged babies. The only discomfort and emotional distress suffered as a child is the passing of her aunt and the death of her “kids.” Each time, an elaborate ceremony is held to send them to external rest.
Fontaine makes friends easy and always has plenty to play with, have sleepovers, and do fun stuff with, like go to amusement parks and the circus. Her parents even have a small park on their
