Thank God for the Gunny

Thank the good Lord for our Gunny. I was beginning to think that I wasn't capable of getting along with Marines. In Alaska I had problems with a Marine Staff Sergeant. And then another. And two Corporals. And I think a Lance. And together they made up about 90% of the Marines on the island. It didn't go well and I thought the problem might be me: I might not be cut out for even the most cursory relationship with any Marine (except one in particular who was in every way the exception to the rule). But the Marine Corps adviser in our battalion, the Gunny, who is old and crusty and angry and in every way what I think a Marine should be, is a guy who I get along with in the best way. We've been spending hours in the same room planning and executing military training for Headquarters Company and there isn't so much as a snag in our relationship. He's restored my faith in Marines.

On a completely different topic: so much happened in my meeting with the skipper. I'm going to jot it all down (not tonight, because I have knitting) but first I have to figure out how to organize my thoughts.