Some Light Coversation...

"So tell me a bit about yourself Shaw..." Michael says as the hummer rolls along the streets of Baghdad along with the rest of the convoy on alert for insurgents and roadside bombs.

"What do you want to know?" Mary asked.

"Lets start with family: what is your family like?" Gunnery-Sergent Michael asked.

"I am the middle child of 7, an older brother, two older sisters, twin younger brothers, and my 'baby' sister: at which point both mom and dad got tubal ligation because they couldn't afford any more kids. My father works as a long haul trucker so he was hardly ever around growing up, though he always managed to be there for Birthdays, Halloween, Christmas, and Valentines Day, which was the day I was conceived. My mother is strict but fair, she keeps everyone in line and makes sure we did our homework and chores and kept the house neat. Dad was in the army during Nam, enlisted straight out of high-school, but he didn't see much combat, got his left foot blown off by a land mine three weeks into his tour and was sent home with a Disability Discharge. He met my mother while she was visiting her father in a VA hospital a few months later and they just hit it off, one of those 'love at first sight' kind of things, by the time the war was over Dad had a job as a long haul trucker and they were saving for a house and a wedding. My older brother, James 'Tommy' Shaw Jr was born about two years later, eight months after the wedding and mom moving into the new house: not nine months, eight, which got my father and maternal grandfather into a knock down, drag out, bare knuckle brawl a few days later, which my dad won but my mother's side of the family would not speak to us until I was five, and things were always kind of strained with them..." Mary trails off, checking herself. "I'm rambling aren't I?" Mary asks.

"Nah, I asked, and I need some chatter while I drive, prevents 'highway hypnosis'." Michael states as the convoy turns a corner.

"What about your family?" Heather queries.

"Youngest of three brothers, my folks were both white collar office workers, grew up in Ann Arbor Michigan but always had trouble in school, couldn't deal with how boring it all was. Got into disorganized sports and skateboarding, fell in with a bad crowd, wannabee gang-bangers. At 18 they got me into some trouble with trying to steal a 'bait car', and the judge gave me 3 options: prison, the USMC, or the Army. I didn't think I was cut out for the Marines, my father was in The Corps before he met my mother and I always wanted to be like him but I never thought I could: still, I tried my best and proved myself wrong. A few months later, right out of basic on Parris Island, I got shipped to Afghanistan with the start of the war there, was in a firefight my first night, and I've never looked back. Say what you want about being in the Marines, it's rarely boring as long as you keep yourself busy."

"So how did you become a Gunnery-Sergeant?" Mary asked.

"Attrition." Michael replies, eyes darkening. "We've lost a lot of good men and women in these wars and after a while my induction as an alternative to prison ceased to matter, my level of experience and good performance since I joined was more important." He declares, then lapses into silence.