Episode 4:   LCpl Clackler

January 13, 2005 10:00 a.m. (Baghdad Time)
Al Asad, Iraq
By LCpl Sincioco
Revised on March 22, 2008

This story took place in Camp Lejeune.

A Rekindled Night

One night, I was driving with Clackler on-base.  I started to say something but I stopped myself and hesitated.

You have all read about Clackler many times in my emails before.  Most of you had an opportunity to meet him when he was in San Francisco with me last year.  You all have had your first impressions of him, but I am almost certain it is not the same Clackler I have come to know.  Perhaps this can serve as a second impression, if there is such a thing.

The Clackler I know is full of life, carefree, and responsible.  He is very talkative but pure at heart.  He is a literally a hillbilly, which you can say adds to his mystique.  Hey, I have not met a hillbilly before, alright?   He has changed to some degree since we met.  Whether that is through my influence, I cannot say for sure.  As difficult as it was at first, he has opened his mind to a lot of new experiences.  He has in some ways started to expand his horizons to the extent he never could have; had he stayed in Alabama as a farm boy.

Don't get me wrong, being a friend to Clackler is a great exercise of patience you cannot even begin to imagine—in the beginning anyway, he has improved greatly since.  One time I remarked to him, "I think God has punished me by having us as friends."  Outside of the context in which I said that it sounds cruel, but in the context, it made me and Clackler break out in laughter.  "I must have done something wrong in my previous life to deserve this," I added.  The more I complained about being mentally tormented about our friendship, the happier he got.  Such was the nature of our friendship.   Such were the ways with Clackler.

He and I went to two MOS schools together in 29 Palms, California.  DNSC (Data Network Specialist Course) also referred to as 0651 and TNSC (Tactical Network Specialist Course) also referred to as 0656.  Two months went by, and I barely spoke to him when we were in our 0651 class.  I did not really hold any good-length of conversation with him until about a week before we went to our 0656 class.

My first impressions of Clackler were he was timid, stubborn, independent-minded who was usually in his own schedule and his own "little program."  He hung around with PFC Cunningham a lot when we were in 29 Palms.  Sometimes, the three of us would go to the chow hall together, get food, sit together, eat together, and once Clackler was done, he would leave and go back to his room.  I found that a bit odd, at first.  It was hard to tell whether he did not like waiting on people or he simply did not know that he should wait on people.  I commented once that "friends wait up on each other."  And ever since, despite how painful it was for him to do so sometimes, he would wait for me to get done eating before taking off—as I eat ever so slowly, for those who don't know me.

Cunningham and Clackler spent so much time together that they were nearly inseparable.  They were roommates, they sat next to each other in class, and they hung out together after class.  So, by what circumstances I found myself hanging around with the two of them I cannot recall for sure.  It may be due to the fact that Clackler started coming to my room on a daily basis; nearly spending more time in my room than he did in his own room!  The dynamic-duo would later become the dynamic-trio as the three of us spent more and more time together.

Clackler would talk to me for hours on-end.  Whether I was paying attention or not it did not matter to him.  He would sit there on a chair and tell me stories of back home, about Alabama and when he was growing up.  It did not matter that the lights were turned off and that I was barely awake laying on my rack.  He would make sure that I stayed awake enough to notice him; forcing me to sleep at the time of his choosing, essentially whenever he left my room.

This friendship is 9 months in the making.  Although I consider myself friendly, I tend to just keep to myself.  But, the more I fail to notice Clackler, the more he will do things to make himself be noticed.  The more I try to shake him loose the more he sticks around.  One time I told him, "You are like a gum stuck on my shoe, I can't get rid of you."  He laughed.  Perhaps it was this notion of me not being able to get rid of him that ultimately led me to accept the fact that he will be around.  For better or worst.

One weekend we had a 96, a 4-day holiday.  Clackler was originally going to drive home to Alabama, because he thought I have work every day of that 4-day holiday, since I was out in the field, at Cherry Point.  When he found out I would get 2 days off he decided to stay on-base instead so we could hang out together.  Mind you that the drive to Alabama was about 10 hours one-way.  Plus, Clackler had to be back at a specific time on the 4th day for a formation.  I'm sure his folks back home were disappointed, but they knew he would be home for Thanksgiving, anyway.

I did go to work on that 4-day holiday.  I had to man the DSID for 12 hours.  That did not deter Clackler.  Instead, he went to work with me!  Anyone willing to give up 12 hours of their time to go to work with me, to keep me company, can only be described as a friend.  We could have just sat there, looked at blinking lights of the Promina, or watch the status of the links go up and down on the DSID.  But....nah....that would have been too boring for the likes of us.  So, instead we made it a Star Wars night!

We watched Star Wars Episodes 4 and 5 during my shift.  Clackler had not seen them before, so "watching Star Wars again, for the first time" was truly just that.  George Lucas' masterpiece still entertains newcomers like Clackler even nearly 30 years later since it was originally released.  He went to McDonalds with LCpl Serrato and grabbed us dinner.  Eventually, tiredness settled in, and he went to sleep in my car which turned out for the better because once I got off-shift he drove me back to Camp Lejeune while I tried to get some rest in the front passenger seat.

Coming back from my holiday leave, I missed my original flight.  As a result, when I got on another flight the next day I ended up in Raleigh, NC.  It's about 3 hours away from Camp Lejeune.  With some convincing, Clackler came and picked me up.  It may have taken him 4 hours as he got lost along the way.  And once he got to the airport, he could not find exactly where I was.  Still, it was the first time Clackler had ever done anything like that for anyone; drive 3 hours away to pick up a friend.  "You know I wouldn't have just done this for anyone, right?" he said.  "I know Clackler, thanks man," I replied sincerely.

I shook his hand and hugged him when I saw him at the airport.  He was so excited to see me, since we had not seen each other in about a month.  He felt more like a little brother than a friend; it was a strange, but good, feeling.

On my last night in Camp Lejeune, I got sick.  It was a bad time to be sick because that's when the big party was.  It was also the day when a whole bunch of people got promoted in Bravo Co., including Alfaro and Naggy to Corporal.  I had a fever, a scratchy throat, and stuffed and runny nose.  On top of that, I lacked sleep for the past few days because we had been drinking or staying up late.  I was really miserable.  I did not even want to go to our last dinner get-together, that's how sick I was, even though I knew how important it was.

Clackler did not go to the dinner which was probably a good thing because the crowd that showed up was twice what I expected.  He went to my room earlier that night and Alfaro was playing his stereo to a deafening level that at some point Clackler could not stand it and he left.  I was disappointed that he left because I wanted him to join us for dinner.  Because I was really sick, I really needed a friend that night and only Clackler fit the billet.

We went to a Chinese buffet that night.  I sat with Mummey and Serrato, but them two lost a lot of cool points with me that night.  The night of all nights and they were messing with me.  "You're not sick, you just think you're sick.  There's nothing a bottle of beer can't cure," Mummey said.  "I don't feel like drinking Mummey, I'm really sick," I said in a weak voice.  Mind you, we had already done some drinking the night before.  We argued and debated this over and over, but Mummey was not listening.  He was bent on trying to get me drunk.  Serrato was no help either, he was playing along with Mummey.

"Man, I haven't heard a Marine whine so much," Mummey said.  I was like, damn.  "Alright, we'll drink until we both puke our dinner out," I said in retaliation.  Yes, peer-pressure is truly a bitch.  Hey, I was at my weakest moment.  It was then when I wish I had Clackler at the dinner table with me.  I needed a friend that night who cared that I was not feeling well.  Who would offer to go buy medicine instead of beer.  Clackler did offer that I sleep over at his room and I wish I had taken his offer, for the long night had just barely begun; little did I know.

I'll spare you the details of the party which happened in two rooms, the one above mine and in my room.  At some point, the entire party moved into my room.  I eventually did drink, Boone Farm, some wussy beverage that tasted like Gatorade but it had some alcohol.  I drank two large bottles of it though.  Loud music, Marines wrestling, spilling beer all over the place, they even pull their knives and mess with them while they were drunk (not a very smart thing).  A lot of Marines were just doing a lot of stupid stuff.  There were probably about 16 Marines total, 4 of them females.  Even the duty was afraid to come by my room.  I saw him walking around my room as if trying to avoid us.  I made a futile attempt to try to get some rest at around 1 a.m.  I think I finally fell asleep due to pure exhaustion at around 3:00 a.m.  The party ended at around 6:00 a.m.  I was dead asleep by then.

My last day in Camp Lejeune I spent entirely with Clackler.  I felt like I needed to make up for some lost time from the night before.  He came and woke me up at 10:00 a.m.  We tried to go to IHOP for breakfast, since he had not been in one, but there was a 20 minute line so we decided to go to the Waffle House instead.  But there was a line there too.  So we went to McDonalds and eat lunch instead.  We saw Meet the Fockers.  Clackler insisted that we saw it.  I told him I still had to do some last minute packing.  But after confirming that I did not have to be at the rally point until 1830 (6:30 p.m.) that night, I decided to watch Meet the Fockers with him.  That movie was so funny, that even though I barely remember Meet the Parents, it still made me laugh—a lot!  By the time I got out of the theather, I felt a whole lot better.  Maybe laughter truly is a form of medicine.  Clackler said, "It was more fun watching the movie with you the second time around compared to the first time."  He had already seen the movie, he just wanted to see it again with me.

Clackler told me he thinks he might cry when it was time for me to leave later that evening.  "Don't cry, no crying Clackler," I told him.  Because I knew if he cried, I may end up doing so as well.  So he said, "Well, maybe when I get back in the car or when I go to sleep tonight."  I said, "Alright, just don't get in to an accident on your way back to your room."  He smiled and laughed.

Seven months ago, we drove to Camp Lejune in my car.  In my final day and hour in Camp Lejeune, it was nice to be riding in Clackler's car for a change.  We did not come back to my room until 1630 (4:30 p.m.).  We roamed around Jacksonville and spent as much time as we can.  I had just enough time to get ready and do my last minute packing.  After that Clackler drove me to the staging area for those deploying to Iraq.

I did not really get a chance to properly say goodbye to Clackler.  I supposed we have been saying goodbye indirectly all day long.  I had hoped to have a few minutes to say goodbye to him, but the bus came and everyone loaded their gear and rushed their goodbyes.  So the only thing I ended up doing was taking my rifle off my shoulder and hugging Clackler before I got on the bus.

I would be gone longer than I have been in the Marine Corps, longer than I have known Clackler.  When I come back from Iraq, assuming I do stay in Iraq for 16-17 months, he and I should be Corporals by then.  Corporal Clackler and Corporal Sin, I like the sound of that.  He and I, along with Mummey and Serrato will be the top dogs in the shop when we come back.  We vowed we would not be like our NCOs, we will be the better versions of them.

If I had a chance to properly say goodbye to Clackler, I would repeat to him what I wrote in the beginning of this story.  If I have to pick one single person in all of Camp Lejeune as my friend, it would still be him.  I would have loved to have seen the smile on his face had I a chance to say that to him in person.  And that some of the best times I've had in the Marine Corps were with him.  They were just simple times of when we went out to dinner or watched movies.  Or when we played computer games or wrestled.  Or, when we rode 4-wheelers and went tubing at his sister's place.  Those were good times, times worth remembering.

I would have thanked him for bringing me to Alabama.  The whole Alabama experience was one of the most educational period in my life.  I really am very happy I drove from 29 Palms to Alabama with him.  I'm glad to have met his family, and to have been treated very kindly by them.

If Clackler had join us for dinner that last night and I had a chance to propose a toast, it would have been something like this:

To my friend, Clackler.  May we both live through Iraq and hopefully spend our last year together, in service, in Camp Lejeune.  While we have spent more time apart than together since we got to Camp Lejeune, it probably helped to strengthen our friendship because we looked forward to seeing each other every time you came from a float, field op, or leave.  May we always have that longing for one another to keep our friendship strong.  Your friend, Sin.

Clackler always talks about getting me a gift—though he never did.  I told him I wanted a flannel sweater, like the one he wears, or an Alabama T-shirt.  But I guess having met Clackler was already the gift; for he reminds me how wonderful it is to be young once again.