Getting to Vietnam is more than just having a military attitude or even a Marine Corps predisposition.
In the military, y’know, a lot of things just don’t fit.
In the Marine Corps, a lot of fit guys just make do.
Then there are those who neither get fit, or can’t fit.
Yeah, there is M, L, and XL. In the end, there’s a few claiming S or XXL. For a million guys, this takes care of 99.9% of all the t-shirts the Marine Corps ever needed. Then there are shoes. The Corps provides all the sizes from 7 to 15, most often either D or E widths. Those possibilities care for 99.9% of all toe to heel requirements whether during peacetime or during Vietnam war times. But, let me tell you, being one of those 00.1% “others” was no fun, especially during those Vietnam years. I write about this in my book, Just Dust. It’s about how when I joined the Marine Corps, I got off on the wrong foot.
I do have kinda strange feet. I can walk, run, and swim just fine; so there’s no impediment. Except when I go to buy shoes; stores seldom ever carry my size. Though not conspicuous, it’s an attribute I can’t change. Size 14s are not profoundly odd, mind you. I was no athlete to say the least, but lots of athletes I’m told have longer-than-average feet. It’s just that mine were a 14-A (that’s pretty darned narrow!) at age 21. In boot camp, that peculiarity was indeed odd …acceptable enough to take the oath of allegiance of course, but almost inexplicable on my particular uniformed journey during the three years that followed. Now it wasn’t impossible, obviously; it was just plain odd and difficult to accommodate. As I got deep into writing Just Dust, recollecting how shoe size became an iconic barrier to cross at so many junctions, I was repeatedly reminded about something no one could’ve predicted.
Nuisances: Lying on military cots at my 6’4” length, my ankles always rested on that crossbar at the bottom of the bunk …my Achilles tendon would hurt the next morning. Wearing a too-wide shoe, your foot slides sideways creating imbalance or slippage. Having to wear the right size shoe to do training, I was instructed to just stuff a sock in those wide sneakers I flip-flopped around in. Then there were all the duck jokes. Getting the right sneakers was not impossible, it just took time to actually get them.
Growing up without a lot of stairs, an unanticipated consequence of long feet was missing steps climbing up or down narrower-than-usual-steps on the USS Vancouver crossing the Pacific, sister ship to the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2). The ball of my foot frequently missed the normal place where most feet connect with the step itself. I tripped on board ship or getting into or out of choppers and mike-boats.
Once I finally did get boots, it was amazing to realize I was issued boots made for World War II marines, and pulled out of some storage locker just for me. It was a different kind of leather (the touch was rough and grainy and they smelled different), harder to polish, and cast a reflective green luster in the sun. I had to explain repeatedly why this duck’s boots were so different.
The real challenges came when I was being issued my boots, shoes, and sneakers in the first place. This peculiarity turned out to be consequential quite a few times, and I mention several events in Just Dust that will surprise many who would have never considered this an issue at all.