A resident of the New Mexico State Veterans’ Home, Bob likes to talk about his years in the Marine Corps. I recently asked him to retell this story. It’s one of my favorites.
The war was over. Just barely. The troops had occupation duties in Korea. In Bob’s opinion, everything was fine, nothing to complain about as long as he wasn’t getting shot at. But there was the usual inequality between officers and enlisted men when it came to adult beverages. Enlisted men got warm beer. The officers had a new club. It was a Quonset hut, set on uneven ground, with dirt piled up around the edges where it didn’t sit flush to the earth, but it served good liquor. And the bartender was a friend of Bob’s.
The floor of the new club wasn’t finished. The bartender made sure a few boards remained loose. No one noticed since they were covered with a mat. The more remarkable thing is that no one noticed the tunnel. Granted, it was short, from the loose boards to some of the loose dirt at the edge of the Quonset hut, but Bob and his buddies must have dug silently. Men on guard duty at night were in on the plan. That also helped.
When inventory was taken at night in the club, the enlisted men tending bar made sure it all looked fine, then slipped a bottle under the boards into the tunnel. Later, someone would crawl in to retrieve it and hand it off to the guard. Somehow, it then got transported to a cache under a natural-looking pile of rocks. And the enlisted men occasionally got to enjoy as good a drink as the officers did.
The discrepancy in the inventory was eventually noticed. An officer confronted Bob, who assured him he wouldn’t do such a thing. “Risk six months in the brig for a sip of whisky? Not worth it.”
“We know you took it. But we can’t prove a thing, and you won’t crack. All I can say is that if the enemy ever captured you. I’m confident they couldn’t get a word out of you, either.”
Amber Foxx Mysteries 