Flash

We had been out on Operation Deck House II for about three weeks. India was moving from the open rice fields, from paddy dike to paddy dike, then up into the jungle. The Infantry guys were hacking away at razor-sharp elephant grass, which cut at our arms and tore our fatigues to shreds.

We were making our way up a steep hill, every other step slipping on the damp underbrush. That’s when THE MESSAGE came in.

Battalion called out with a “Net Call”, one that covered all companies. “Connive. Connive. This is Connive 6, over.”

As trained, I responded first: “This is Connive India. Over.” Then the Admin/Log (Administrative/Logistics”  radio operators responded in letter order from the other companies. “ Kilo, Lima and Mike. Headquarters didn’t have to respond because it was “Connive 6”.

“Connive. MESSAGE. Over.” This was an instruction to get our little Marine Corps Message Books out and prepare to write down an important message. Normally, I could call Battalion and tell them I was not prepared to copy, or, in other words, write the message down, but just report the gist of it to my Officer. But, then came the next word.

“FLASH.”

Holy shit!

A “FLASH” message.

Now, you have to understand that in the military, and even in civilian communications, There are four levels of importance of a message: “ROUTINE” is the lowest; “PRIORITY” is something to think about; “IMMEDIATE” is very important, and “FLASH” means you’re about to get your ass kicked.

What the hell? Were we about to be overrun? The gooks about to drop a nuke? I dropped to my knees, got out my message book and pen and awaited the message. The other guys were telling no, they were yelling  for me to get up and move on. But, I couldn’t move, write and fight the elephant grass and the hill at the same time.

So, I just stopped. Then, I listened through all the administrative bull, the “From” through the “To”, the Date-Time Group and the message’s classification ““ “FLASH”.

Hell. I was about to die, and this clown at Battalion was just stretching things out. I wanted him to get to the point.

The text came through, and I wrote it down. It went something like, “Be advised. Operation Deck House II is now Operation Hastings.”  I looked at what I had written down and couldn’t believe it. It was like that kid in the movie, “A Christmas Story” who decoded the Ovaltine message listening to Little Orphan Annie on the radio: “Drink More Ovaltine!”

I was dumbfounded. I was really pissed off. I wanted to get my hands on that Battalion geek and pummel his brains from his head down through his ass.

It was my job to acknowledge receipt of the message first, especially in a timely manner so that Kilo, Lima and Mike could respond in order. And, boy, did I acknowledge it. I called that Battalion bastard every name in the book and insulted his mother. I also told him what we in India Company were up against. I let him know that any idiot who thought about sending such a stupid message with a “FLASH” precedence ought to be force-fed his own cahoochies. I asked him who was the dumb ass that wrote this stupid message.

That’s when I got my answer. It was Connive 6 Actual. The Battalion Commander. Colonel Bronars.

He was very cool and polite. He told me to deliver the message. And, when this operation was over, he would personally help me find a new line of work.

The moral of the story: Don’t kill the messenger.

Author/Jerry Czarnowski