It was a perfect moment on a golf course. The Curmudgeons were in their heyday.

My neighbors, Keith Macumber, Randy Prescott, and Spud Mumby had joined our original bunch of Navy guys met during my career and, of course, the legendary Army Artillery Major Marty Linville.

Our foursome that day consisted of Marty, Spud, Rod, and myself, were on the eighteenth tee. Spud hit a nasty duck hook that curved into the parking lot and struck the side of a white car stupidly parked where an errant tee shot could strike your car. Spud was contrite. After hitting a second tee shot, he walked over to where his errant ball had landed.

As Spud approached, an older man and his son came out of the 19th hole restaurant. The old man proceeded to read Spud the riot act, accusing him of intentionally hitting his car, demanding to see Spud’s insurance, Navy ID, license and several other things.

Spud was embarrassed but everything he said only made the old man more irate.

Marty and i had walked over to see what was happening. Marty was not known to tolerate stupid or bullies. He looked at what was going on and said to the old man:

“Fuck off and die.”

The old man stopped in his tracks, looked confused, and became contrite. We all walked away quietly…with, of course, laughing to ourselves and adding to our legend of Marty.

i wrote this in 2012. i may have posted it somewhere back then. i don’t know. For those who may not have read my previous posts about Marty, he passed on July 5 from cancers produced by his exposure during his Vietnam service. i have written several posts about his legend since then. Today, while going through and cleaning up files, i ran across this. i think it speaks volumes about the man. We spent many hours talking about the bible, our writings — he wrote a number of adventure stories for nature magazines, our beliefs in the realm of politics, and always respected each other’s opinion. In short, i miss him.

i met Marty Linville at the Naval Amphibious School, Coronado, when i arrived there for duty in 1985. Marty, an Army major in artillery, was the assistant officer in charge of Naval Gunfire and as such coordinated, directed, and pulled duty at San Clemente Island where the Navy conducted its live fire Naval Gunnery exercises and bombing runs (He was truly “purple,” the term for working with other branches of military service long before it became a career enhancing gambit. I had reported to be one of the two-man team facilitators for the one week Prospective Commanding Officer, Executive Officer Leadership, Management, Education and Training Course (whew!) or PCO/PXO LMET.

My job quickly evolved into becoming the Director of LMET and Command Equal Opportunity for the West Coast and Pacific Rim and lead facilitator for a two-day seminar on leadership for Navy senior officers.

We both played on the school’s sports teams, and we began to play golf on weekends with Rod Stark, the Director of Amphibious Training, and later the executive officer.

All three of us retired from the command. Marty went to work for a military contractor using his skills and experience in human/computer interface in weapons systems. Rod became a golf pro at the North Golf Course in Sun City, CA, and i became Mister Mom while flip-flopping around on making a career of writing, until i gave it up for organization development and business development consulting, a more lucrative post-military officer pursuit. i later returned to writing.

In 1991, Marty and i agreed to begin playing golf on Friday mornings at the three Navy courses in San Diego at the time: Sea ‘n Air at the North Island Naval Air Station, Admiral Baker, and Miramar Memorial at Miramar Naval Air Station. We had vowed to not play on the military courses on the weekend because we had been frustrated many times finding retired old farts taking up tee times on the weekend when it was the only time active duty personnel could play.

We have been playing Friday morning golf ever since. Rod has returned and joined us and our group, occasionally numbering as many as sixteen, is now down to a pretty steady seven. The group has two Navy SEAL captains, three Navy commanders, and two civilians, one of whom is a veteran. Four of us saw service in Vietnam.

We rib each other a lot, are known for being a little uncouth, tell raunchy and politically incorrect jokes, and our wives accuse us of drinking too much beer at the nineteenth hole. We call ourselves “The Curmudgeons” and last year anointed Marty as the “Grand Whiner.”

In addition to our Friday morning golf, we play together on other occasions frequently. We share a love of sports and of literature.

Marty is a devout Catholic, gruff to a fault, adores his grandchildren and supports his children in their pursuits. His wife Linda is an understanding, patient, and loving woman. She has to be.

He also is a faultless friend.

Marty was awarded the Silver Star for his action in Vietnam.

In the past, we have shared several pieces of each other’s writing. Today, i received the below in my email. I was moved to tears.

I asked Marty to allow me to share it with others because i believe it paints picture of what it was back then when our country’s appreciation of our military veteran’s sacrifices did not exist.

Jim;

Over the years I have written a lot of (poor) poetry… thought you might be interested in something that I wrote in the late Spring/ Early Summer of 1969. I was in Vietnam and we had just moved into the ashau valley with only 63 men (really boys); I was all of 22. We were about 30% understrength. In the first 48 hours 16 of us were killed and 7 wounded, including me. This is what I wrote while I was on the hospital ship….

Ashau

The deep dark canopies are hung with dew 
The darkness resounds of voices 
Out of this tangled web of life 
Comes the chilling call of death

We have felt the scorpion’s sting and 
Peered into the viper’s fangs 
Our images have been reflected in the eye of the tiger 
And we have met death face to face in the valley.

Bless you, Marty, and thank you for our time together.