Playing by the rules

Sometimes, when I think of the many “Tales of the Old Corps” that my husband told to regale his Marine Corps buddies, I get a chuckle by remembering them. The following was an event that took place when he spent a tour of duty in Okinawa in 1959. Here is an account of a simple volleyball game with the troops!

Jungle Rules

by Doyle D. Gracey, CWO-4, U.S.M.C.

It was summer of 1959 and I hadn’t been on Okinawa very long. My last time there was in 1945 in World War II during the Battle of Okinawa. I toured the island looking for familiar sights and had scarcely unpacked my sea bag when a typhoon ripped its way down through Japan to Okinawa. This was a typhoon of epic proportions with winds of 156 miles per hour. We were billeted in a three story reinforced concrete barracks and the torrential rain and wind actually made the building quiver.

We accepted the storm as something to be endured but it did mean we were confined to quarters. Of course, we had received a quadruple dose of training films and were thoroughly saturated with those, plus we squared away our gear and wrote home. In other words, we had to stay busy.

I’m not saying that Marines don’t get along with one another but when they’re locked up together their competitive, combative nature is likely to spill out into everyday relationships. So, as the typhoon spun itself into oblivion, we took our pent up energy outside.

One of the first activities the troops engaged in was a friendly game of volleyball. These games became on-going daily affairs and one morning I came upon one in progress. There were six men on each side but one of the players was being helped off the court by a Corpsman. It was my belief he had turned his ankle. Since one of the members was unable to continue, the men asked me to take his place. I do love a good game whether it’s volleyball, baseball, football, poker or tiddlywinks, so I readily agreed.

One team consisted of ONTOS crewmen from a company that operated the M-50 Anti-tank Vehicles and the opposition was Battalion Maintenance people who kept the M-50s in running and shooting shape. I might add that there is always a degree of competition between these two groups. I was replacing one of the Maintenance players.

My side had just committed what is called a “side out”, which means we had failed to make a point and had to surrender the ball to the other team. My position was the center of the net on defense.

The serve was high and short and I prepared to make a set (hit it high so it could be spiked by one of my team members and make a point for us). I didn’t accomplish that because the player on the opposing side of the net kicked me in the shins with sufficient force to knock me down. Naturally I got up and said, “What in the hell did you do that for?” It was completely unsportsman-like and up to that time I wasn’t aware of the Dogpatch style of playing in these games.

He backed off slightly, looking a little surprised that I’d have taken offense at his actions. The team members let me know that this was normal procedure in these games and both sides shouted, “Jungle Rules!”

Not being totally stupid, I realized that jungle rules meant no rules at all. The game was nothing more than an organized free-for-all. As an officer I had stepped into a totally enlisted atmosphere and had to adjust accordingly. Have once been an enlisted man I knew this was a prime opportunity for these boys to give an officer a good licking with no consequences. I realized this fully and was looking forward to a little competition.

On the next serve, the ball went into our back court. It was returned just over the net to our opposition. Before my previous antagonist could handle the ball I jerked the net down and hit him with a solid straight right to the nose, rendering him unable to side out (return the ball). The no consequence rules of the game were to my advantage.

On a succeeding play, we had the ball. When our man served I could see the ball would not clear the net, so I jerked the net down sufficiently so it would clear. The opposition complained bitterly about the unorthodox move. I held up my hand and shouted, “Jungle Rules!”

The bloody game continued until we were tied 11 -11. Then, Sergeant Major Shirley stepped out onto the veranda of the barracks and blew his whistle. We walked off the court with some degree of camaraderie. The troops had tested me and I had passed. I could play as dirty as any of them! The tie game was never played out and I’m glad for that left no official winner.

The Sergeant Major called to me, “Gunner! How’d the game go?”

“Just great!” I replied.