You and your men have already provided the best medicine, Gunny Miller nodded, then turned to his marines. All right, Leathernecks, fall in, back to the station, and good work. The marines formed up, executed a smart about-face, and marched away with the same disciplined efficiency they had arrived with, leaving the street quiet once more, but fundamentally changed.
Arthur watched them go, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the weather. He felt seen, respected, not like a burden or an invisible old man. But like a marine.
He even felt up to getting that eclair now. The story of the marine intervention in the alley became a neighborhood legend, whispered with a mixture of awe and amusement. The group of teenagers who had been counseled were reportedly models of politeness for weeks afterwards, giving wide berth to anyone over the age of 60, and developing a sudden profound respect for military insignia.
Arthur Green continued his quiet walks, but now when he passed the marine recruiting station, there was always a crisp salute from whoever was on duty, and a shared nod of understanding. Because the Marine Corps ethos doesn’t fade with age or wither with hardship, it endures, and when one of their own is disrespected, the response, even if it’s just a few good marines counseling some errant youths in an alley, is swift, decisive, and unforgettable. Some lines you just don’t cross. Ever!