In the military, especially during wartime, everybody has a nickname. It lends familiarity, makes for clarity (too many Toms, Dicks, and Harrys), and speeds up communication when relaying information fast is critical. Also, when the life expectancy of men around you is likely to be short, not knowing a fellow Marine's full name can lessen the impact of loss. From a novelist's point of view, a rich collection of sobriquets lends realism and spices up the narrative and dialogue. The following informal discourse on monikers is excerpted from The Remains of the Corps:
. . . And this bunch had a rich collection of nicknames: some had been earned in the Old Corps and some came along as baggage, but most had been newly bestowed.
Some were about geography: Cpl. “Nevada” Scoville was from Reno; Cpl. “Caje” Garrison was out of the Big Easy; Pvt. “Big Bone” Tritt hailed from a small town of the same name in Boone County, Kentucky; and Pvt. “Wally” Norcross was late of Walla Walla, Washington.
Some had been earned in the Corps: Sgt. “Bull” Domicelli gained his sobriquet as a prison guard; Cpl. “Killer” Clark had clinched his in Haiti where he had personally killed more than a half-dozen Cacos; Cpl. “Dead Eye” Swindler hadn’t shot anything but targets, but he rarely missed; and Cpl. “Rider” Hunt had secured his handle by switching from horse-mounted cowboy to horse-backed Marine.
Occupational bynames were quite common: Pvt. “Baccy” Litchfield, the tobacco farmer, was named for his contributions to the making of coffin nails; Pvt. “Barrister” Fury worked out of a courtroom; Pfc. “Rad” Gravenwood had served with the radical IWW seeking social change through the labor movement; Pvt. “Buttons” Workman had worn a bellhop uniform bedecked in buttons; Pfc. “Wigwag” Hollister was named for his talent with the semaphores; and, Pfc. “Professor” Murray, Pvt. “Teach” Ramsey, and Pvt. “Reverend” Titus were patently obvious choices.
Physical attributes made for visual images: Sgt. “Fat Beano” Harris deserved his moniker for his belly, though he could outmarch anyone in the platoon, and Cpl. “Doors” Gordon warranted his tag as he had ears that looked like two wide open doors on a Tin Lizzie. Because their appellations came with more than one stripe, they were used only by fellow NCOs. “Pop” Olds was especially apt given his premature grey hair and paternal appearance.
“Red” Murphree and “Irish” O’Flanigan were two of the more run-of-the-mill labels.
Most monikers were name related: Artemus was “Artie” — Hiram was “Hi” — Charles was “Chas” —Chester was “Chet” — Winnifield was “Winnie” — Cpl. Pigeon was “Pidge” — Pvt. Os was “Ossie” —Pfc. Schultz was “Schultzie” — Pvt. Tuckalo was “Tuck” — Pvt. Nelson went by “Nels” or “Nellie” — Pfc. Archibald Smith answered to either “Archie” or “Smitty” — Pvt. Timothy Tenpenny collapsed to “TT” — and, Mieczyslaw was shortened to “Mitzi” for everyone’s sake.
Some nicknames were complimentary, like Pvt. “Babe” Moran for his good looks, Pvt. “Brains” Mansfield for his prodigious academic accomplishments, Pvt. “Trueshot” Coleman for his ability to shoot the eye out of a squirrel at one hundred paces, Pvt. “Casanova” Sabatini for his classic Italian looks, swagger, and smooth-talking manner, Pvt. “Sampson” Baumhauer for his sculpted size, Pfc. “Happy Mac” McDougal for his perpetual optimism, and Pfc. “Saint Cornelius” Cleghorn for his god-fearing demeanor which included getting down on his knees to pray every night. “Nip” And “Tuck” made sense, of course, though the vinegary Sgt. MacCallum preferred “Tweedle Dee” and “Tweedle Dum.”
Other nicknames were less complimentary and, in some cases, they were unkind and even cruel: Pvt. “Notta” Niggemeyer’s nickname resulted from his name being shortened to “Nig.” He responded with “I’m notta nig!” so many times, it stuck. Pvt. “Snortin’” Norton was named for the snorts that punctuated his laughter, Pvt. “Goober” Coyle, who also went by “Wrong-foot Jimmy” for his inability to step off on his left foot, was named not so much for his Georgia roots, but for his goofball manner, and Pfc. “Alibi Ike” Jones was the consummate shirker, always looking to be elsewhere when there was work to be done. Pfc. “Peewee” Maxwell hated his well-deserved diminutive — it was generally agreed that he must have been standing on his tiptoes when he navigated the Corps’ minimum height requirement. Pvt. “Useless” Stuckey must be hating his parents for naming him Ulysses, but how could they know they were bestowing such a distinguished name on someone who would grow up so inept. Pfc. “Booter” Abbott had been a semipro baseball player, a shortstop with a penchant for booting balls that were hit straight at him; Kenneth had overheard that “Booter” might also be a reference to the magnitude of his manhood — it being of such exaggerated size that he might boot it while walking. “Hap” Hazard has a documented history of unhappy happenstance. Finally, the most mean-spirited nickname had been thrust by some cruel wit on Pfc. “Purple Lips” Cline who had a port-wine stain birthmark that traveled from his left shoulder up over his neck and jaw, circled his lips, and ended just below his nostrils.
Pfc. “Lucky” Mothersbaugh had merited his name more than anyone. His first brush with luck was when he survived the crash of a train that was carrying Marines out from California to Quantico even though his seatmate was crushed to death — a single stroke of good luck for sure. Later, in live-grenade training, a hand bomb was dropped at his feet which turned out to be a dud. At that point, some started calling him Lucky. Just before heading overseas, an accidentally discharged rifle bullet had lodged in the wall just behind his cot, shortly after he had moved from a sitting to prone position, five minutes before lights out. The nickname Lucky stuck and Marines started rubbing his helmet or head for good luck, the way Harvard students rubbed the sculptured toe of John Harvard at Harvard Yard.