When I was stationed at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, CA, there was very little Marine Corps training going on at the Marine Detachment. This was due to the insanely demanding academic schedule we were subjected to. For us Arabic students, the courses ran anywhere from 68 to 75 weeks depending on whether or not the student took the dialect courses as well.

The result was a lot of frustration. New Marines who'd arrived directly after boot camp and combat training were suffering from the delusion that they weren't "real Marines" because they didn't go on humps or go to the rifle range the entire time they were stationed there. The only aspect of military training that was available to them was the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program, aka MCMAP. Every other option required more resources and planning that we just didn't have time for.

Therefore, I decreed that we would do martial arts training at least once a week. We'd meet up on the base soccer field after class where one of the students who had instructor credentials would teach us one or two new moves. Then we'd finish the lesson by having each Marine do ground fighting with another person in two minute bouts.

But after a month or more of practicing the syllabus, I really wanted to take things to a new level. I also knew I'd likely never lead Marines in combat, but there was something else that I could provide in the form of healthy competition while building espirit de corps.

One evening, when we were wrapping up and I was about to dismiss the formation, I spotted our brother platoon, 4th PLT across the field. 4th PLT was bigger than 5th, comprised of about 45 Marines to my 38. Their platoon commander, SSgt Ganye, came from the counter-intelligence field and he had one of the highest belts attainable, black belt with red tabs. Their platoon sergeant, Sgt Holland, came from the reconnaissance community and was completely psycho as you'd expect.

Why does any of that matter? Because in that moment, I chose violence - It was time to start some shit.

"HEY FOURTH PLATOON! YES, YOU! I BET MY PLATOON COULD BEAT YOUR ASSES. YEAH I SAID IT! YOU WOULDN'T DARE STEP TO US!" I shouted, projecting my voice with all my might. Marines in both platoons went "Oooooh" and started jeering at each other. My troops were looking at me like I was crazy but they weren't going to show doubt now. They shuffled their boots and shot looks at the other platoon.

"Yeah, FluffyClamShell? You fucking think so? We'll melt your face and hand it back to you in a jar!" Sgt Holland snapped back.

"OOooh such a loud bark. Prove it, bitches!" I decided that if I'm going to pick a fight, I'm going to go hard in the paint. SSgt Ganye and Sgt Holland walked away from the pull-up bars where his troops were and I met them in the middle of the field. In much more normal tones, we discussed my idea.

"Alright, SSgt FluffyClamShell, what do you have in mind? You wanna see which platoon's physical fitness scores are better? Don't waste our time, we'd win that without showing up." Sgt Holland taunted.

"No, Holland." I snapped. "I'm challenging your whole platoon to a ground fighting competition. Platoon vs. platoon, MCMAP. We pair our Marines off based on weight and then see which platoon is really any good in a fight. Step up if you think you're hard enough. I know you won't." Privately I was getting a kick out of the whole thing. Shit talking was a rare pleasure for me. "I'll understand if you back out though. After all, all those injuries we'll inflict on you might hurt your brain."

"Naw, fuck it. Next week, Friday. Right here. Every Marine has to fight." SSgt Ganye was smirking which irritated me. "Your platoon will lose in the first couple of matches anyhow."

"Deal. See you Friday bitches." I returned to my platoon and announced the competition to them. To my surprise, they started giving me worried looks and seemed reluctant to fight.

"SSgt, there's a lot more of them than us. Are you sure this is a good idea?" My platoon sergeant, Sgt Charles spoke for the group.

"Yes, Charles, I do think it's a good idea. From now until the contest, we're doing martial arts training for PT every single day."

Friday rolled around and everyone arrived, giddy with anticipation. I wasn't worried though, because I knew a little something that was going to be a nasty shock for our opposition.

I knew about LCpl Goodman.

LCpl Goodman was a man built like a brick. LCpl Goodman had been placed on light duty six months previous because of a torn ACL. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to have surgery on his knee. He'd also put on a little bit of weight while not being permitted to PT. But he didn't let that stop him, so he sat quietly on the sidelines in case he'd get a shot in the ring. Because his instructions from medical allowed him to undertake exercise as he saw fit until surgery, he was technically allowed to participate, a fact I was counting on.

The first seven or eight matches completed with half wins and half losses on both sides. 4th Platoon had some really good fighters and some of them looked like they'd been grown in a lab. But SSgt Ganye was starting to get frustrated when the match we were observing ended with a point for fifth platoon. This was supposed to be a wipeout. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey SSgt FluffyClamShell, I challenge you! Platoon commander vs. platoon commander! Get out here!" He was puffing himself up and pacing. We both knew that I couldn't accept the challenge. I weighed 145 lbs, SSgt Ganye was nearly 200 lbs. There was no way in hell I was going to step in the ring against him.

"SSgt Ganye, I only have one Marine left who comes close to your weight. He's a lance corporal though, been on light duty for awhile. You willing to fight him instead?" I was doing a terrible job of appearing innocent but Ganye wasn't terribly concerned with me at the moment.

"I don't give a fuck who you send, let's get this started already!" He took off his sunglasses and emptied his pockets, then stepping into the ring. He sat down, ready to go.

Well, he asked for it. I turned to LCpl Goodman. "Do you accept? Think you can fight?" Goodman just nodded his head and went to sit back-to-back with SSgt Ganye. "I guess you do. Alright, same rules! The match will go no longer than two minutes and you must stay off your feet. Ready? GO!"

There was a flurry of arms and torsos as SSgt Ganye and Goodman got to grips, Within seconds, LCpl Goodman was on Ganye's back and I couldn't really tell who was doing what. Both platoons cheered while I fumbled for and checked the stop wat-

"TAP! FUCK! TAP!!!"

I looked up at the sound of Ganye's surrender while everyone stared in disbelief. Only 45 seconds into the bout and SSgt Ganye had tapped out. LCpl Goodman let him go, not even breathing hard yet, and Ganye stood up, shouting profanities. "GODDAMNIT!" SSgt Ganye stalked off in a huff and that was the end of the bout. I couldn't hide my glee over his defeat.

Because on top of everything else I knew about LCpl Goodman, I also knew he was a zillionth degree black belt in jujitsu. I'd seen him take on six consecutive opponents and beat every single one as a warm up. Light duty, knee injury, none of that mattered because SSgt Ganye never stood a chance. Now that I reflect on it, I should've bet a suspiciously large sum of money of him. Missed a great opportunity.

At the end, 5th Platoon emerged victorious. The Marines were absolutely ecstatic, cheering like crazy and feeling better than they had all week. Their joy reached new heights when 4th platoon's penalty was cleaning the common areas during field day that night.

Haha, got'em.