Anyone who has spent a spring day in the South Carolina Lowcountry is likely to have encountered the evilest critter on the planet except for a cottonmouth moccasin and a cape buffalo with a bullet in its butt. I’m talkin’ ‘bout the sand gnat aka flying jaws. It’s a near invisible little beast that swarms when the air temperature ranges between 70-80 degrees Fahrenheit. When they’re swarmin’ they will inflict a form of aggravation matched only by that pesky kid in second grade who always got the best swing at recess because his desk was closest to the classroom door.
However, to be fair, the lowly sand gnat has played a significant role in the defense posture of these great United States. Heck, you might even say that sand gnats helped us win World War II.
Why, you ask? Well truth be told they are directly responsible for the U.S. Marines being the finest fighting force on the planet.
The epicenter of sand gnat propagation is on Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island. The sand gnats and Marine drill instructors are in cahoots. They are partners in crime when it comes to training recruits. For generations, little ole sand gnats have landed on the bare necks of beleaguered recruits and chomped down. The recruits try to surreptitiously swipe at the sand gnat, but the sand gnats have already buzzed an alert in the drill instructor’s ear, “Hey Sergeant Jones, ya see Private Smith, second from the end in the first rank? He’s next.” Then Mr. Sand Gnat flits over to young Private Smith and nails him right behind the right ear. Private Smith, thinking Sergeant Jones couldn’t possibly notice him scrunch his shoulder to remove the sand gnat, makes his move. There then ensues a form of mayhem that only drill instructors of the Lee Ermey school of recruit harassment can conjure. “Private Smith, did you kill my pet sand gnat?” “Sir, no Sir!” “I think you did, Private Smith. It’s right here, dead as a doornail.” Sergeant Jones feigns pulling a sand gnat from Private Smith’s neck. “Private Smith, we must give this sand gnat a decent burial.” And with that, elaborate funeral services involving push-ups, running in place, and other forms of mourning rituals are conducted for the errant sand gnat’s final send off to sand gnat heaven.
Eventually, the Marine recruits learn to tough it out and let the little buggers nibble away without a flinch. And that’s why, whether it’s the jungle of Guadalcanal, the rice paddies of Vietnam or the sandbox of Iraq or Afghanistan, a Marine set up in an ambush can remain still when something multi-legged and venomous crawls across his or her arm. Yessirree folks, the sand gnat makes Marines.