That's No Miracle...Nettles, Thistles, Humor, and Stories by a Scotch American

By R. K. Ferguson

Contains short stories, humor, essays, a catch-all for a great vacation or anytime read. Light, serious, but always thought provoking. May not be appropriate for those who believe sharks are gentle vegetarian sea creatures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257571246

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That’s No Miracle

One fine day several army, navy, and air force generals were being given a tour of a Marine Corps base by the base commandant. He took his fellow generals out to a remote shooting range where a company of sharpshooters was bivouacked and said, Any man here can split a pea at a thousand yards. Pick any man you want.

The generals looked over the marines for a few minutes and then conferred for many more. You would think such serious deliberations were over the choice of the unfortunate marine who would have to back up his commanding officer’s boasting. However, three quarters of the debate was about who would announce their decision. Rock, scissors, or paper would have been a more efficient method. One of the army generals finally took the honor of picking a marine and walked around the sharp young men standing at parade rest and went to the back of the mess tent and brought out a marine whose glasses were so thick it appeared he’d just cut the bottoms off a couple of glass soda pop bottles and stuck them in the frames.

The base commandant was aghast. I meant one of the men in combat training.

The army general grinned like a shark taking great pleasure in sinking his teeth into the commandant and ripping him in half. I believe, correct me if I’m in error, you said; ‘Pick any man you want’.

That’s right, it’s exactly what you said, an air force general intoned.

Alright, alright, fine, he’s a marine. Any special request for target set-up, private?

Yes, Sir. The assistant to the assistant of the assistant mess cook seemed to be doing a fair amount of his own stewing in his fatigues. If the pea could be set on the edge of one of our empty cook pots I might have a better chance, Sir. I’m more used to them than the targets, Sir.

Any objections to his request, gentlemen? The commandant asked the generals.

The generals previewed the polished thirty gallon pot brought out of the mess tent and noted how the glare from the sun would be reflecting directly into the marine’s eyes. We’ve no objections here, the army general said. However, I’m going out to watch the set-up myself.

The army general took off in a Hummer with a couple of marines, the empty pot, and a single pea and rode out a thousand yards. The marines poured several gallons of water into the pot to steady it and painstakingly balanced the pea on the edge of the pot under the scrutiny of the general. Then they drove a hundred yards or so off to the side and radioed the target was ready.

Binoculars at the ready, the generals and the marine commandant waited for the now profusely sweating marine to position himself for the shot. Through their binoculars the pot shone as a miniature sun shimmering above the sun baked target range. The marine took aim with the borrowed rifle after wiping the sweat off his trigger finger and his brow several times and then came the sharp crack of the rifle’s report. The pot didn’t move, quaver, or vibrate in the least.

Ha. Missed by an inch if not a mile, crowed one of the generals. You owe us a free round of golf and then drinks at the nineteenth hole, Commandant.

The marine commandant shook his head as he watched the marines put the pot into the Hummer under the close eye of the army general and head back toward them. The army general hopped out Hummer shaking his head in disbelief. By my stars, if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes…

The two marines took the pot out of the Hummer and it was full of a thick split pea soup, enough to feed the entire company.

It’s a miracle! The flabbergasted army general exclaimed.

The marine commandant immediately snapped back, That’s no miracle, gentlemen, that’s a Marine!

Dedicated to David Suy and Adam Brown, of Hendersonville, North Carolina

Currently serving in the United States Marine Corps

May 28, 2005

AC

AC. Air conditioning. Sweet words to a southerner. And the real key to the continuing rise of the South. Forget all the complex social-economic theories, the more moderate climate theory, et al. Air conditioning. That’s all you need to know.

Without air conditioning people would abandon the South quicker than fleas jumping off Rover in a flea bath. The industrialization of the 20th Century South happened because the North’s cooler climate was artificially emulated in the buildings of the South.

I grew up in the South. I still live in the South. The home I lived in until I went to college was built in the mid to late 1920’s with one of the first residential central air conditioning units. It was a monster in the attic, unfortunately, a very dead monster by the time we moved into the house in 1959 when I was three. The attic fan still operated and was the only saving grace keeping us from being pickled with heat rash during the summer.

Sometime in the 1980’s my father bought window units for their bedroom and the kitchen. The kitchen and small breakfast room adjoining it quickly became the favorite gathering place in the house. Central air was installed (this time in the basement) in the 1990’s at a fraction of the size and weight of the original unit still sitting in the attic. That old monster may be worth its weight in gold though, just the thing the National Air Conditioning Museum or the Smithsonian might want to scarf up for a couple of hundred thousand.

Yes, I can see a real bidding war heating up for the old piece of sh…machinery. After all, air conditioning was the single most important factor in the population shift from north to south. You still don’t believe me? I don’t need some fancy computer generated population index trend model to tell me this basic truth. However, if some professor wants to get a big fat government grant and do it, that’s fine by me.

Take the state of North Carolina where I live and we are not talking the Deep South here. Ban the use of air conditioning in all public, private, and residential buildings and vehicles for two years. I’ll eat that monster in my father’s attic if there is not a significant depletion in population by the end of the second year’s summer. Extend the ban to five years and North Carolina’s population will be sixty percent or less of what it was when the ban began.

Don’t take my word for it though, crank up your grant proposals, grab some of that government pork