Generation Kill - My First Wife and Kids (Gunny, ensemble, PG)
Generation Kill
Mike "Gunny" Wynn, ensemble
Rated PG-13 (language)
Written for courtneyturney for the Generation Kill Minor Characters Ficathon.
My First Wife and Kids
Mike's responsible for the mail. He siphons off the letters for him and the LT and then hands the rest of the platoon's letters over to Person. On the face of it, it seems like insanity: entrusting anything remotely important to Colbert's brain-addled shadow, but Person's deceptively competent when he needs to be. He's a nosy fucker, but right behind Mike he's the first one to notice when letters from home get scarce or when they stop smelling like a goddamn whorehouse.
Person's the first one to jump all over somebody when they're showing weakness, but he's also the first one to run to the rescue when they're feeling down.
If First Recon had a mascot, it would be Ray Person in all his whiskey tango, NASCAR-loving glory.
Mike knows they could do a lot worse.
Hell, Mike's the one who actually suggested that the LT let Person deal with the mail in the first place. Anything to give Colbert a few seconds of peace. Anything so that their lead vehicle can maintain that delicate balance that keeps the violence to a minimum and the mutual affection high.
People don't realize how hard it is to share the same sardine can-sized space with the same unwashed fuckers twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week without reprieve. To live with the same people day in and day out without trying to strangle a son of a bitch.
But Mike knows.
Actually, if anybody were to ask Mike what he does, he'd probably say that. Not that Mike gets asked stupid fucking questions like, "What does a Gunnery Sergeant do?" since pretty much everyone he knows and everyone he interacts with knows what he does. But. In theory. In the civilian world. This is what Mike does: he pays attention, he does his recon.
Mike Wynn knows who in his platoon is good at what, who has a weakness, who has to be left alone at this time and who needs somebody all up in their shit. Mike knows that relationships are all about give and take and pull and yank and you can't fucking walk away from me because we're all mired in this shit together.
He takes what he knows and he exploits in the best ways possible: Rudy's espresso maker is okay because he shares. Lilley's camera is good for morale, because if they're all thinking about being on CNN then they're not thinking about being in a pinewood box. Q-Tip wearing that goddamn maroon rag on his head should be allowed, because he keeps Christeson occupied in the back of the Humvee with his dime store rhetoric.
Mike calls it work; his wife calls it mediation.
Making officers out of boys, making warriors out of men, making the best of what tends to be a really fucked up situation more times than he'd like to count. Probably more times that he could count.
Mike's the one who shrugged when Lilley first showed up at Oceanside with that fucking video camera. "As long as it doesn't affect his combat readiness," is what he said to the LT, which is what the LT said to Espera, who bitched and moaned about it but ultimately gave Lilley the okay.
That's how things work in their platoon. Mike suggests, the LT agrees (or sometimes doesn't) and then it all rolls downhill.
They're fortunate with Nate. Mike's had some real fucking retards in his vicinity and he's tried to unfuck the situation as much as possible. Sometimes it works… sometimes it doesn’t. Still, Mike likes to think that because of him the Corps isn't completely run by dyslexic, ass-bandits that could get lost in their own house. That maybe he's helped make one or two okay commissioned officers. Well, at least with Nate Fick he's got one.
He only has to look over at Kocher to know that one makes all the difference. At least Alpha has Patterson.
Mike's been doing this a mighty fucking long time. He wouldn't say he's got this down to an art, but he's good at dealing with most crises that come along. Frankly, he's a lot better at dealing with his twenty-odd men than he is with the outside world.
He tries though. For the sake of his wife and his daughter, he tries to remain attached instead of detached. He reads the letters Clare writes to him on the first and the fifteenth of every month when he's away and tries to write back what he thinks he needs to say instead of just telling her, "I don't fucking know, just take care of it."
It may be the subtext, but he makes the effort.
Clare's been a Marine wife for twelve years, she deserves his goddamn effort.
Dear Mike,
We took the training wheels off of Sarah's bike today. She's doing really well. She's not too good with corners yet, but I told her when her daddy gets home from Kuwait he'll show her how to turn properly. In the meantime, I'm getting really good at dealing with grass stains…
Hi, Sweetheart,
Today the raccoons got in the garbage cans. It would seem that they've evolved too. I thought once you put that clasp on the lids it would solve things, but it's looking like that's not a good thing. It was so damn hot today that I swear I saw the devil outside after dinner. Sarah's got the corners thing figured out. She just puts her foot down every time she has to take one. It reminds me of your cousin Lance that likes to ride his bikes in the dirt….
Mike,
I got your first letter today. And it only took six weeks, I'm kind of shocked. It took almost three months when you were in Afghanistan. Some of the other wives and I are organizing a St. Patrick's Day party for the kids. We're going to buy some of those gold chocolate coins and organize a hunt. We think they'll really enjoy it. Plus, Sarah is determined to work on her recon skills for when daddy gets home.
I miss you. I hope you're okay…
The regularity of the letters started when Mike went to Afghanistan. Actually, no, it started before that. It started after Clare decided that she couldn't live in Oceanside anymore. That she was tired of Mike being off with the platoon and leaving her to raise Sarah on her own. He didn’t blame her. He doesn't blame her. She hasn't left him. She's not leaving him. She just… doesn't want to be there when he's not there.
He understands that basic concept. Like a Marine without a mission, she doesn't do well on her own. It doesn't make it any easier: the fact that she spends most of the year in Austin with Sarah and her parents and only comes to Oceanside when he's going to be there for extended periods of time.
He knew when they got married that it was going to be hard. That it was going to be harder than if she married some civilian, because Mike's a Marine. Always has been, always will be. Clare didn't just marry him. Most of the young guys, they're in, they'll leave. Guys like him though -- the Corps is their first wife… everybody else comes second.
Actually, the Corps isn't just his first wife. It's his first family. He's married to the Corps and the men in his platoon are his kids. At least this is how he approaches things like the LT and Brad pulling each other's pigtails or Rudy hiding in his beauty product fortress when Pappy gets shot in the ambush.
This is why he tries to get Nate and Brad a few moments alone to work out their schoolyard bullshit; why he corrals Chaffin and Manimal to make sure they're keeping an eye on Rudy.
Mike can't be there to see Sarah get her training wheels off, can't be there to kiss her scraped up knees and elbows or read her bedtime stories, but he can talk to Walt Hasser when he fucks up in the roadblock. He can remind Walt that that death wasn't his fault. That there are casualties in war. That sometimes… sometimes life just is what it is.
And when that’s not enough then Mike can throw the pebble down the mountain that snowballs into Nate talking to Brad, and Brad snapping at Ray, and Ray doing his Recon Mascot number to make things better for Walt.
Mike may not be the best husband ever, may not be the best Gunnery Sergeant in the entire Corps, but he can make the fucking effort. He can try to make things better for everybody else involved: for Clare and Sarah and his platoon.
That's what family's for.
-end-
Love to alethialia for beta duty in the middle of the night. Ilu A! Adoration and other business to Q and L just because.
Mike "Gunny" Wynn, ensemble
Rated PG-13 (language)
Written for courtneyturney for the Generation Kill Minor Characters Ficathon.
My First Wife and Kids
Mike's responsible for the mail. He siphons off the letters for him and the LT and then hands the rest of the platoon's letters over to Person. On the face of it, it seems like insanity: entrusting anything remotely important to Colbert's brain-addled shadow, but Person's deceptively competent when he needs to be. He's a nosy fucker, but right behind Mike he's the first one to notice when letters from home get scarce or when they stop smelling like a goddamn whorehouse.
Person's the first one to jump all over somebody when they're showing weakness, but he's also the first one to run to the rescue when they're feeling down.
If First Recon had a mascot, it would be Ray Person in all his whiskey tango, NASCAR-loving glory.
Mike knows they could do a lot worse.
Hell, Mike's the one who actually suggested that the LT let Person deal with the mail in the first place. Anything to give Colbert a few seconds of peace. Anything so that their lead vehicle can maintain that delicate balance that keeps the violence to a minimum and the mutual affection high.
People don't realize how hard it is to share the same sardine can-sized space with the same unwashed fuckers twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week without reprieve. To live with the same people day in and day out without trying to strangle a son of a bitch.
But Mike knows.
Actually, if anybody were to ask Mike what he does, he'd probably say that. Not that Mike gets asked stupid fucking questions like, "What does a Gunnery Sergeant do?" since pretty much everyone he knows and everyone he interacts with knows what he does. But. In theory. In the civilian world. This is what Mike does: he pays attention, he does his recon.
Mike Wynn knows who in his platoon is good at what, who has a weakness, who has to be left alone at this time and who needs somebody all up in their shit. Mike knows that relationships are all about give and take and pull and yank and you can't fucking walk away from me because we're all mired in this shit together.
He takes what he knows and he exploits in the best ways possible: Rudy's espresso maker is okay because he shares. Lilley's camera is good for morale, because if they're all thinking about being on CNN then they're not thinking about being in a pinewood box. Q-Tip wearing that goddamn maroon rag on his head should be allowed, because he keeps Christeson occupied in the back of the Humvee with his dime store rhetoric.
Mike calls it work; his wife calls it mediation.
Making officers out of boys, making warriors out of men, making the best of what tends to be a really fucked up situation more times than he'd like to count. Probably more times that he could count.
Mike's the one who shrugged when Lilley first showed up at Oceanside with that fucking video camera. "As long as it doesn't affect his combat readiness," is what he said to the LT, which is what the LT said to Espera, who bitched and moaned about it but ultimately gave Lilley the okay.
That's how things work in their platoon. Mike suggests, the LT agrees (or sometimes doesn't) and then it all rolls downhill.
They're fortunate with Nate. Mike's had some real fucking retards in his vicinity and he's tried to unfuck the situation as much as possible. Sometimes it works… sometimes it doesn’t. Still, Mike likes to think that because of him the Corps isn't completely run by dyslexic, ass-bandits that could get lost in their own house. That maybe he's helped make one or two okay commissioned officers. Well, at least with Nate Fick he's got one.
He only has to look over at Kocher to know that one makes all the difference. At least Alpha has Patterson.
Mike's been doing this a mighty fucking long time. He wouldn't say he's got this down to an art, but he's good at dealing with most crises that come along. Frankly, he's a lot better at dealing with his twenty-odd men than he is with the outside world.
He tries though. For the sake of his wife and his daughter, he tries to remain attached instead of detached. He reads the letters Clare writes to him on the first and the fifteenth of every month when he's away and tries to write back what he thinks he needs to say instead of just telling her, "I don't fucking know, just take care of it."
It may be the subtext, but he makes the effort.
Clare's been a Marine wife for twelve years, she deserves his goddamn effort.
Dear Mike,
We took the training wheels off of Sarah's bike today. She's doing really well. She's not too good with corners yet, but I told her when her daddy gets home from Kuwait he'll show her how to turn properly. In the meantime, I'm getting really good at dealing with grass stains…
Hi, Sweetheart,
Today the raccoons got in the garbage cans. It would seem that they've evolved too. I thought once you put that clasp on the lids it would solve things, but it's looking like that's not a good thing. It was so damn hot today that I swear I saw the devil outside after dinner. Sarah's got the corners thing figured out. She just puts her foot down every time she has to take one. It reminds me of your cousin Lance that likes to ride his bikes in the dirt….
Mike,
I got your first letter today. And it only took six weeks, I'm kind of shocked. It took almost three months when you were in Afghanistan. Some of the other wives and I are organizing a St. Patrick's Day party for the kids. We're going to buy some of those gold chocolate coins and organize a hunt. We think they'll really enjoy it. Plus, Sarah is determined to work on her recon skills for when daddy gets home.
I miss you. I hope you're okay…
The regularity of the letters started when Mike went to Afghanistan. Actually, no, it started before that. It started after Clare decided that she couldn't live in Oceanside anymore. That she was tired of Mike being off with the platoon and leaving her to raise Sarah on her own. He didn’t blame her. He doesn't blame her. She hasn't left him. She's not leaving him. She just… doesn't want to be there when he's not there.
He understands that basic concept. Like a Marine without a mission, she doesn't do well on her own. It doesn't make it any easier: the fact that she spends most of the year in Austin with Sarah and her parents and only comes to Oceanside when he's going to be there for extended periods of time.
He knew when they got married that it was going to be hard. That it was going to be harder than if she married some civilian, because Mike's a Marine. Always has been, always will be. Clare didn't just marry him. Most of the young guys, they're in, they'll leave. Guys like him though -- the Corps is their first wife… everybody else comes second.
Actually, the Corps isn't just his first wife. It's his first family. He's married to the Corps and the men in his platoon are his kids. At least this is how he approaches things like the LT and Brad pulling each other's pigtails or Rudy hiding in his beauty product fortress when Pappy gets shot in the ambush.
This is why he tries to get Nate and Brad a few moments alone to work out their schoolyard bullshit; why he corrals Chaffin and Manimal to make sure they're keeping an eye on Rudy.
Mike can't be there to see Sarah get her training wheels off, can't be there to kiss her scraped up knees and elbows or read her bedtime stories, but he can talk to Walt Hasser when he fucks up in the roadblock. He can remind Walt that that death wasn't his fault. That there are casualties in war. That sometimes… sometimes life just is what it is.
And when that’s not enough then Mike can throw the pebble down the mountain that snowballs into Nate talking to Brad, and Brad snapping at Ray, and Ray doing his Recon Mascot number to make things better for Walt.
Mike may not be the best husband ever, may not be the best Gunnery Sergeant in the entire Corps, but he can make the fucking effort. He can try to make things better for everybody else involved: for Clare and Sarah and his platoon.
That's what family's for.
-end-
Love to alethialia for beta duty in the middle of the night. Ilu A! Adoration and other business to Q and L just because.