Black coffee
When I first came into the Marine Corps I noticed that all of the old salty Marines, particularly Staff Non-Commissioned Officers, drank black coffee, seemingly non-stop. Some out of mugs emblazoned with a ship’s logo from a previous deployment, some just dirty old cups that were never washed, and some out of aluminum canteen cups. Very rarely did I see any of them use cream or sugar in their coffee. My first deployment was a “Med Cruise”, six month’s aboard the U.S.S. Whidbey Island in the Mediterranean where the crusty sailors in the Chief’s Mess likewise drank strong black coffee all the time.
I was an eighteen year old Private First Class, a grunt. I had been drinking coffee since I was thirteen, but I drank it with cream and sugar, and didn’t drink it that often. The hours and demands of being Marine infantryman resulted in me increasing my coffee intake dramatically. My first Fire Team Leader taught me how to cook a concoction of two cocoas, two coffees, two creamers, and two sugars over a heat tab in my canteen cup. He admonished me to never throw any of those ingredients away (from the accessories packet in the MREs….Meals Ready to Eat), and to collect those items from other Marines. I followed his advice and always had a “coffee mess” in the butt pack of my deuce gear.
I read a book once about the Marines serving in Korea, sitting in the defense on the side of a frozen mountain for a month at a time. The author who was a Lieutenant, made an observation about an old Gunnery Sergeant who cooked coffee in his canteen cup daily. The cup was never washed and had built up such a thick crust he was once observed cooking a cup of java without adding anything but water. The boiling water percolated through the residue and made a hot beverage that was seemingly satisfying to the Gunny. That’s salty.
By the time I was an NCO I was drinking black coffee with sugar. I can’t explain the progression, but it was probably the result of simply not having creamer available in the field or various austere environments I found myself. After a while I found I no longer liked the taste of coffee with creamer. By the time I was a young Staff NCO we were headed to Iraq. I was a Platoon Sergeant in the 1st Marine Division during “the March Up”. I went many days without coffee. These were days on the road to Bagdad where one would literally go days and nights without sleep, except an hour nap here and there. It was brutal. One morning after a giant dust storm halted the entire division (if you were there you know exactly what I am talking about) I heard that the Battalion Ops Chief, an old Master Gunnery Sergeant, had fired up “the silver bullet”. (Not the kind made infamous by Navy Corpsman, but the large percolator-coffee urn type). I quickly dug out my canteen cup and navigated forward ten or twelve vehicles. There it was, perched on the tailgate of a HMMWV. Master Guns simply smiled and said “come get some”. It was strong, black coffee. Some unnamed brand from field mess. No creamer, no sugar, no fuss. It was delicious. I felt like Popeye downing a can of spinach. It was the best cup of coffee I’ve had in my life. Since that time I only drink black coffee. Besides, I was up and coming as a Staff NCO and desired to be seen as salty. Black coffee fit the stereotype.
A few years later I was a Gunnery Sergeant and standing duty on a weekend in Quantico, Virginia. It was a hot humid day. My wife stopped by the duty desk to drop off some chow. (Speaking of stereotypes, she does NOT drink black coffee.) In addition to the food she set a tall cup in front of me that had whipped cream and chocolate “drizzle”. I gave her the blank stare. She smiled and said “Try it, you’ll like it”. As I hesitated she said “Think of it as a coffee milkshake”. It was a drink from Starbucks called “Java Chip Frappuccino”. It had caffeine, it was cold, and it was delicious. I called her before she made it home and asked her to bring another one.
I still maintain that I only drink black coffee, but on hot days when I am dragging, I will have one of these frozen potions; especially if no one sees me. Guard the stereotype.
I slipped through the cracks a couple of times and progressed up the ranks. I was a Master Gunnery Sergeant, an Ops Chief. I didn’t want to tarnish the image and reputation I had been exposed to as a Marine. So I continued to drink black coffee and dole out mild harassment to those who did not.
On a ship in the Pacific, in the Chief’s Mess, one of the Master Sergeants drank several caramel macchiato’ s each day. He kept urging me to have one stating how good they were. I would respond with something like “It should be good, they filter it through a tutu…or yeah I bet, but you still have glitter in your teeth”. One morning he sits down at breakfast. I was sipping black coffee (as usual). He looked tired, and I asked him how he slept. He said “not great, I had to get up and use the head like three times.” I stared at him for an uncomfortable few seconds and said “I’m going to level with you man. After drinking all those caramel macchiato’s I am just glad you still stand up when you pee”. The Senior Chief at the next table almost choked and spit his black coffee out in laughter.
When on a field op or deployment I learned never to count on the Marine Corps to provide coffee. Especially as the energy drink generation ascended the ranks. My best purchase was a JetBoil and I kept instant coffee on hand. For those times I didn’t have access to a canister for the stove I would stock up on what was essentially a commercial version of the old heat tab. I really enjoyed getting up early in the field before reveille and cooking up some coffee. I would walk around sipping it as the Marines began waking up. They would see me surveying the area with canteen cup in hand. The stereotype was safe on my watch.
One hot summer day as a Regimental Operations Chief I was in 29 Palms, California, while participating in ITX (Integrated Training Exercise). We departed camp Wilson for main side, which at this point had a Starbucks. I was dragging a bit after late nights of planning and gearing up for a long day. The place was packed. I ordered one of the previously mentioned frozen elixirs. When the barista asked my name for the order I told her “Black Coffee”. She hesitated and asked me again. I spoke clearly “Black Coffee”. When my order was ready there sat a frozen drink topped with whipped cream and chocolate “drizzle” on the counter. They loudly called out “black coffee”. I picked up the drink. As I turned around my CO, a Marine Colonel and career infantry officer, looked at me grinning. Over the crowd I said “as you heard I ordered black coffee, but they are busy. They messed it up, I’ll just go with it to keep the line moving.” He laughed and just said “right…”
Stereotype intact?