Esprit de Corps: A Novel Inspired by Actual Events

By Herbert H. Roebuck and Connie Bertelsen Young

Will Brown, a small town boy from West Virginia, an inexperienced youth who gets cold feet when he’s with his childhood sweetheart and cringes at confrontations with loud mouthed bullies, dreams of joining the Marines so he can become the man he longs to be. Sidesplitting antics include Will’s first experience in a rowdy Southern bar, training his uncooperative hound dog, a traumatic night at the dance, a wedding, recruitment and survival techniques as Will is molded into a Marine. Along with laughter, it’s a sober reminder of the horrifying price paid for war. While in the trenches of enemy territory, Will’s life is changed as he endures hardships far away from home and watches brave men give their lives to rescue others. Although a fictional tale, readers will find details about the Marine Corps’ strenuous and excellent training at Parris Island, Camp Lejeune and Camp Pendleton during the sixties, and the Marines’ incredible fortitude required throughout the War in Vietnam.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunstone Press
• Release date: Dec 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781611394351

Herbert H. Roebuck

Herbert H. Roebuck had an outstanding career in the U.S. Marine Corps including service in Vietnam. He was born in 1928 in Tampa, Florida. His many experiences over the years inspired this book. He has received recognition for recruiting over 931 Marines. Herbert’s experiences in the Marine Corps and his creative ideas inspired Connie Bertelsen Young to write Esprit de Corps.

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Esprit de Corps

© 2015 by Herbert H. Roebuck with Connie Bertelsen Young

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including

information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher,

except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Sunstone books may be purchased for educational, business, or sales promotional use.

For information please write: Special Markets Department, Sunstone Press,

P.O. Box 2321, Santa Fe, New Mexico 87504-2321.

eBook 978-1-61139-435-1

_

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Roebuck, Herbert H., 1928- | Young, Connie Bertelsen, 1947-

Title: Esprit de corps = The spirit of the corps : a novel inspired by actual

events / by Herbert H. Roebuck with Connie Bertelsen Young.

Other titles: Spirit of the corps

Description: Santa Fe : Sunstone Press, 2016.

Identifiers: LCCN 2015036215 | ISBN 9781632930941 (softcover : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Vietnam War, 1961-1975--Fiction. | United States. Marine

Corps--Fiction. | GSAFD: War stories.

Classification: LCC PS3618.O365 E86 2016 | DDC 813/.6--dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015036215

Dedication

This book is dedicated

to the memory of all who

died or were disabled from

Agent Orange in Vietnam.

Blessed be the LORD my Rock,

Who trains my hands for war,

And my fingers for battle.

—Psalm 144:1 NKJV

Introduction

I was inspired to write this stimulating adventure of life and emotions after listening to the hilarious yarns which Herbert Roebuck, former Master Sergeant in the Marine Corps, asked me to write. In many ways, this book is a reflection of his personal life experience.

The story begins during the War in Vietnam and highlights the colorful life of Will Brown, a small town boy from West Virginia who wants to change his life. Will is an inexperienced youth who gets cold feet when he’s with his childhood sweetheart, cringes at confrontations and is intimidated by loud mouth bullies. He dreams of becoming a Marine so he can become the man he longs to be. Sidesplitting antics of this main character and his buddies include their experiences in a rowdy Southern bar, training of an uncooperative dog, embarrassing encounters, a traumatic night at the dance, a wedding, recruitment, survival techniques and numerous endeavors as Will is ultimately molded into a Marine.

Will’s faith, family and friends are an integral part of this book. And along with bringing laughter, it will remind one of the horrifying price that is, and was, paid for war. While in the trenches of enemy territory, Will’s life is changed as he sees for the first time the bloody insides of a human being who has been blown up, as he watches brave men give there lives to rescue others, and as he endures hardships far away from home.

Although a fictional tale, within these pages readers will find details about the Marine Corps’ strenuous and excellent training at Parris Island, Camp Lejeune and Camp Pendleton during the sixties, and the Marine’s incredible fortitude throughout the war in Vietnam.

There are few entities on earth that compare to the United States Marine Corps with their reputation of discipline, perseverance and endurance. One could say their notability is a supernatural fact, mainly because this institution was surely blessed by Almighty God to protect and defend America. This is a fresh, stimulating and believable adventure, embracing the seasons of life, hope, hate and love.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NIV)

—Connie Bertelsen Young

1

West Virginia Farm 1965

A young, bright-eyed raccoon paced back and forth near the chicken coop which appeared to lean precariously, although actually secure enough, on one side of the barn at the Brown’s sharecropper farm. The moon shining on the animal’s fur made the fur appear the same color as the siding on the barn which had aged over the years in West Virginia weather. The exploring coon had already attempted to get inside the smokehouse on the other side of the barn, but it was locked up tight the night before after the owner hung a new carcass on a huge rusty hook. But now, the chicken eggs beckoned the animal from a straw nest shelf.

In attempt to get nearer the anticipated feast, the coon managed to climb on top of a nearby sugar cane grinder, which might be hitched to a mule when the sun was up, but chicken wire, covering a portion of the cages, forbade his entry to the pen that way.

Twenty-year-old, Will Brown, sprawled upon his comfortable feather mattress, suddenly opened his eyes as he was awakened by raucous chicken chatter and automatically jumped out of bed. Dressed in long underwear with the tailgate unbuttoned, exposing his bare rear, he hurriedly grabbed his double-barrel shotgun, cocking both barrels as he exited the house.

Will grimaced as his bare feet were greased with chicken leavings between his toes, and warily moved toward the coop. By this time, the disturbance has awakened Radar, and the aging farm hound, customarily late and disinterested in responding to intruders nowadays, lazily sneaked up behind Will. As Will bent down, letting the folding door to the chicken coop rest on his back to look inside, Radar stuck his cold nose to Will’s bare rear causing him to fire both barrels, killing three Rhode Island Reds.

The raccoon was long gone, disappearing in the cotton field when Will’s crotchety dad, Walter Brown, carrying his own shotgun, also in long underwear and barefooted, slammed the back screen door of the house and approached the barnyard yelling, What in the hell is going on?

Hesitating to go beyond the back porch, Will’s mother, Velma Brown eventually appeared in her nightgown and nightcap, followed by her other son, thirteen-year-old Milford, both with startled looks on their faces. Her daughter, six-year old, Becky, a little blond girl with disheveled hair, wearing a pink-flowered, flannel nightgown, faded from many washes, peeked out a window, stretching and yawning, undaunted by the noise.

Morning sun rays began to bring light on Will as he washed the sticky covering off his feet with a bucket of water drawn from the well. Then, despite his reluctance to explain what caused the commotion to a waiting audience, whose perturbed faces indicated they were not appreciating this early morning escapade, he described the embarrassing scenario.

Eventually Milford crawled into the chicken coop to collect some of what would surely be the main course for dinner. He handed the bloody chickens to his brother and Velma handed him the now empty water bucket to collect eggs while he was at it.

As father and sons went back to the house for breakfast, Walter pointed upward, studied the sky and advised, It’s going to rain!

Will shook his head, That’s jet vapor you’re lookin’ at, Dad. Them aren’t clouds.

But Walter insisted, Mark my words, son. It’s gonna rain.

While Velma prepared food in cast iron pans in the comparatively old-fashioned kitchen for 1965, little Becky set the table for breakfast—as she did since she was three.

After the five Browns enjoyed a hearty meal of fresh eggs, smoked bacon and biscuits and gravy, Velma grabbed the old drip style coffee pot and refilled her husband and Will’s cups with the steaming liquid. They heard a lazy woof from Radar as a boy was hastily riding a wobbly red Schwinn up the driveway. Velma stopped what she was doing and listened attentively until a thud was heard against the front door. The newspaper landed successfully for a change, and her newly planted Chrysanthemums were preserved, at least until the next delivery.

By seven o’clock, Milford and little Becky were out the door and waited for the school bus at the end of the driveway where it met a partially paved road. Will remained at the cleared breakfast table with another cup of coffee and studied the Want Ads in the newspaper.

Walter, dressed in a faded green and grey checked flannel shirt and light blue overalls with patched holes in the knees, had been working since six o’clock. Slamming the back door as usual, and getting a frown for slamming it from Velma, he entered the room and glared at Will. Will, oblivious to his glare, pointed at the Want Ad he was reading and asked, What’s a rezoom?

Velma chuckled. That’s not rezoom. It’s resume. They want you to write down what workin’ experience you got.

Walter listened to Velma’s explanation and moved behind Will. With a sarcastic grin on his face he thumped his finger on Will’s back and said, You need to get up off your lazy ass and put your boots on and I’ll give you some workin’ experience!

Will scratched his head, folded up the newspaper, gulped the last of the coffee and proceeded to get ready for a day of work on the farm.

That afternoon, Will was working in the field when he saw Milford and little Becky getting off the bus. Milford made a beeline for Will as soon as he saw him.

Seeing the downcast expression on Milford’s face, Will asked, What’s the matter with you?

Looking at his feet, Milford spluttered, Frankie Ragsdale and one of his friends jumped out of his car when I got off the bus in front of the school this morning...and they stole my lunch!

Will put his hand on his little brother’s shoulder and comforted, Don’t worry Milford, we’ll get ‘em. Come on. He led him to the barn and they went inside where, among other items found on a farm, there were several old wagon wheels, barrels, three crooked sawhorses with saddles, antique collections of tools, ropes and a pitchfork leaning on a couple hay bales. At the very back of the barn, Will had several animals in small cages, some of which he had nursed back to health after finding them wounded. Among the animals was a ferocious wolverine.

Will produced a dusty old suitcase from a spider-webbed corner, and after a few attempts using a pole and lasso, Will skillfully managed the wolverine and placed him in the suitcase. After the bouncing of the suitcase subsided a bit, he directed Milford. Frankie and his friends will be coming back from the Four Corners store and up the road as usual any minute. Quick! Run out and set the suitcase on the road and we’ll see what happens.

Milford smiled broadly and took off running with the suitcase. Then he and his brother hid and waited for the returning car. Minutes later, Frankie’s car could be seen coming up the road and then slowing down. They heard loud music blaring from the car radio. The car stopped and the passengers curiously peered out the windows. Then one of Frankie’s friends quickly jumped out of the car, and after looking around, picked up the suitcase and returned to the car with it. They drove off, burning rubber.

The car went a short distance when suddenly all four doors blew open and the occupants scattered. Will and Milford gave each other a high five and walked to the house laughing hysterically.

When the two got to the door, Radar followed them in. With flour on the tip of her nose, an apron tied around her waist and her hands on her hips, Velma demanded, Get that critter outta here! Until you housebreak that mutt, I ain’t havin’ him in my house!

As the sun was setting and Velma placed her perfectly prepared, crispy fried chicken on a platter, it began to rain. Smirking, Walter came in from a day of work, slammed the screen door and said, I told you so.

When Little Becky had set the table, the members of the Brown family were washed up and seated for dinner (along with one lazy hound hidden under the table, patiently waiting for secret offerings).

Everyone bowed their heads while little Becky parroted the customary table prayer. Come Lord Jesus, be our guest. And let this food to us be blessed! Amen.

The raindrops began to vigorously pelt the roof as the contented family enjoyed the mouth-watering fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, churned butter, and garden fresh turnips, followed by berry pudding with sweet cream for dessert.

2

First Love

In the morning, Will gave Milford