Look Ma, No Cape!

Every kid wants to be a hero. I spent my childhood sword fighting my way across the harsh landscape of our living room furniture, commanding sieges of Lincoln Log fortresses, and reading comic books on the roof of the house. Once in a while you actually get to fulfill that fantasy even when it may seem like the most mundane of gestures at the time.

American Embassy, Madrid, Spain, 1997.

Normally a weekend afternoon standing Post 1 would be rather uneventful. Hardly anyone came in to work and most emergencies could be handled by the duty officer on call. On occasion there were situations which could only be handled by the World’s Finest United States Marines.

American citizens (AmCits in the embassy lingo) most frequently ran into trouble overseas when they were robbed or otherwise lost their passports, cash, and other important documents. On weekends we fielded these types of calls and route them to duty officer, a Department of State type with trained expertise in diplomacy and possessing other intergalactic powers. AmCits in these situations inevitably came to the embassy to get everything straightened out.

In one particular incident an American woman lost everything to a purse snatcher. Understandably shaken by the incident, she arrived to meet the duty officer at the embassy on the weekend. I received a call from the Guardia Civil manning the gate saying they had some kind of crazy woman on their hands asking to get in. Most of the Guardia spoke about as much English as I did Spanish, so their impression was understandable. I spoke to the woman on the phone and decided I would walk out to escort her into the building.

Now I could have just let the Guardia usher her to the embassy door but, contrary to popular belief, chivalry is still alive and gentlemen should go the extra mile for ladies in distress. I always explained to my Marines that American citizens expect and deserve a certain kind of conduct out of us. To be any less would be a disservice to our nation and cheapen our legacy.

Striding across the parking lot I gave the Guardia the thumbs up to open the walk in gate. The distressed woman turned in my direction. She saw me swaggering toward her with PR-24 baton, a .357 revolver, and most importantly, camouflage utilities with name tape that read “U.S. MARINES.”

She visibly relaxed, “Oh, thank God!”

“Need some help ma’am?” I couldn’t resist, if a white horse were available I’d have ridden it across the parking lot. I suppose in her version of the story I looked ten feet tall and weighed in at over 330lbs of war machine. She’d be about half right.

I escorted her to the lobby and kept her company until the Duty Officer arrived to handle business. No big deal, just another ho-hum day holding back the tide of darkness.

Dragons Slain
Maidens Rescued
Villains Thwarted