Vignettes from a C-130

Rated 5.00/5 based on 2 reviews
Some things are much larger and more important than the individual, as a rural New Mexico boy learns when he joins the Marine Corps. More

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Published by FrostProof 808
Words: 7,590
Language: English
ISBN: 9781458170071
About Harvey Stanbrough

Because he is unable to do otherwise, Harvey Stanbrough splits his writing personality among four personas. When asked why, he most often replies, "Hey, Roses are red and violets are blue; I'm schizophrenic and so am I."
As Harvey Stanbrough, he writes poetry and nonfiction, various publications of which have been nominated the Frankfurt (Germany) Book Fair Award, the Foreword Magazine Engraver’s Award, the Pushcart Prize, the BEA (NY) Book of the Year Award and the National Book Award. Harvey also copyedits for other writers and teaches writing in Southeast Arizona and (soon) online. Harvey was born in New Mexico, seasoned in Texas, and baked in Arizona. After a 21-year stint in the US Marine Corps, he managed to sneak up on a bachelor’s degree at Eastern New Mexico University in Portales in 1996. Oh, and he also writes a little fiction under his own name (see below).
As his alter egos—Gervasio Arrancado, Nicolas Z "Nick" Porter, and Eric Stringer, all of whom are close friends except maybe Eric—he writes (respectively) magic realism, spare Hemingway fiction, and the fiction of an unapologetic neurotic. You can see the full bios of Gervasio, Nick and Eric—including their photos (hey, a persona needs a life of its own)—on their own respective Smashwords pages. Thanks for stopping by.

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Reviews

Review by: Sam Turner on Dec. 17, 2011 :
Forgot to rate this book. If you've every been in the military-or not-this gives a clear picture. Well worth a read.
Sam Turner
(reviewed long after purchase)

Review by: Sam Turner on Dec. 16, 2011 : (no rating)
VIGNETTES from a C-130:
Harvey:
I was 14 years old when Marine Gunnery Master Sergeant D. Alexander stayed with my family for three months. He had retired after 35 years. (He was a cousin of my mother’s. They grew up together in Shepherd, Texas.) He made all the landings in the Pacific until he was wounded on Eniwetok with a bullet through a muscle in his leg. By way of ongoing physical therapy, he had me hike with him on the Bright Angel Trail across the Grand Canyon. (I lived on the South Rim.) Being an only child, I looked up to him as an uncle.

I remember resting on a switch back and saying, “This is just like the Marines, isn’t it Drummond?”

A dark cloud came over his usually smiling face and he answered, “No, Sammy. This isn’t at all like the Marines.”

Even at fourteen I sensed that I had struck a serious chord with him.

Years later, long after he had moved on, I realized that he must have had what is now called PMT. He couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. Even now, I can’t imagine what terror, what horror he must have felt with each landing of an island. There were moments when your vignettes touched me again as I thought of Drummond. They brought tears. Thank you for sharing.
Sam Turner
(reviewed long after purchase)

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