"Ditty"
By Francisco Martínezcuello
Ditty: dit·ty /ˈdidē/ (n) noun: ditty; plural noun: ditties
“A short, simple song. In the Marine Corps or military, it is a verbal memory aid to help reinforce required physical actions.”
It began with a ditty. The rhythmic tone, the repetition, it’s soothing, it breeds familiarity. Some ditties require a call and response, like when drill instructors bark orders and troops scream back, “kill!” It’s so the newbie believes in something larger, a collective group that shares a unique identity. The ditties erode the self to quickly follow orders without hesitation.
One ditty broke me down.
“Left foot, kill foot,” is a ditty repeated by young recruits marching around a hot rectangular asphalt parking lot better known as a parade deck. All day long, thirty-eight left heels strike the deck in unison, sounding more like thirty-eight thousand, hitting the eardrums like thunder. The marching unit is like a piston, and after several weeks of this, the platoon is a machine, a weapon of war, with no room for humanity.
One ditty built me up.
Recruits are issued war sticks – a generationally evolving series of letters and numbers, but to civilians it’s always the Armalite Rifle. A ditty advises recruits to never be further than one arms distance from their issued weapon or suffer consequences. The platoon drills with their sticks of war and sing ditties like “This is my rifle; this is my gun. This is for hunting; this is for fun.” They manipulate their rifles with one hand and grab their crotches with the other, and dream of all their sexual conquests.
Next ditty.
“I’m up, they see me, I’m down.” The theory is that it takes an enemy at least four seconds to aim a weapon at a moving target, and six to aim accurately. I remember screaming “I’m up, they see me, I’m down” while bounding from one position to the next to keep me within the limits of the safe exposure time frame, in the training fields of North Carolina and Virginia, the California desert, and overseas.
I trusted these ditties, the way I trusted the chain of command, until I didn’t. I remember that day too. It was a day in 2012, the year my daughters turned 10. The Houston Mayor’s Office produced a video on active shooter survival. Long before it was a movie, “Run. Hide. Fight.” was a ditty.
My daughters and I rehearsed this ditty, while I was in uniform, before dropping them off at middle school. I looked at maps, memorized grid coordinates, clocked response times, and plotted rendezvous points in case it happened; but it didn’t. I am ashamed to admit my relief when it happened in neighboring schools.
The ditty didn’t work. They required improvisation. Instead of run, hide, fight some kids played dead after rubbing their classmates’ blood all over themselves. Instead of I’m up, they see me, I’m down, the officers with their Armalite Rifles stayed down.
The ditties fucking lie, but then that would be a ditty, wouldn’t it.
Francisco Martínezcuello served 20 years in the U.S. Marine Corps with a tour in Iraq and Afghanistan. He is a graduate of UC Berkeley School of Journalism and recently completed fellowships with the Public Policy Institute of California and KYUK Public Media in Bethel, Alaska. He is currently the summer reporter for Chilkat Valley News in Haines, Alaska. Recently, Francisco was selected to be part of the second cohort of California Local News Fellows. His writing focuses on the environment, science, and military affairs/veterans’ issues. He is also a VetRep Resident Artist. Publications and more can be found on his website: www.themotorcyclewriter.com
What’s happening at VetRep…
Listen to our latest episode with Kimberly Evans on the Savage Wonder Podcast, where we interview incredibly talented musicians, artists, writers, and theater professionals, who also happen to be veterans.
Join us this Saturday at the Parlor for Thrillers and Laughs, a collection of seven, veteran authored 10-minute plays that are sure to amuse, startle, and thrill you. Settle in with a refreshing summer mocktail and dessert made by our friends at Jones Farm for a night you won’t forget. Shows have been sold out all season long, so get your tickets before they’re gone!