“Thoughts on My Wallet”

by Anna Campbell

My current – and  frankly my first and only wallet – was purchased at the Atlantic, Iowa, Walmart sometime during the fall of 2021 before I went to boot camp. It is plain and unassuming. A small, two-inch by three-inch brown leather wallet (you know this because of the growingly faded brand declaring “GENUINE LEATHER” in the lower corner of one side) with a middle pocket for tri-folded bills and three slots on each side for cards of various needs and origins. It only cost $1 because it’s sewn a bit crooked, but it gets the job done.

When I first got the wallet, I didn’t have much to put in it. Then again, I was fresh out of high school. No credit cards, no cash, nothing of importance. When I went to boot camp, the wallet held only my social security card, my driver’s license, and a $20 bill to buy a meal at the airport. I remember thinking to myself, “I am never going to use this thing.”

As I get ready to leave the military, the state of my wallet has changed greatly. The first introduction to the wallet was my Navy Federal debit card, given to me by the Marine Corps so that I could spend the money that they were giving me on the things they were requiring me to buy. I know, it’s a bit asinine. Next came my Department of Defense ID card. It looks like a driver’s license, but instead of a gaunt, straight face in a t-shirt, it was a gaunt, straight face in cammies. It is also called the Common Access Card, or CAC, because, as the name implies, it gives me access to nearly everything. My pass to get onto military bases, my smart card to access government computers and websites and open your email, my health and dental insurance card, my pass to go to the gym and the commissary, my library card, and so much more.

But clearly, not enough more. When I said it gives me access to nearly everything, there is a strong emphasis on the nearly. For some reason, four years after I got this wallet, it is now bursting at the seams. Do you know what a CAC can’t do? A lot. Here are some of the other ridiculous things that the U.S. Marine Corps requires me to always carry in my wallet:

  • A government-funded travel credit card that I have used maybe a dozen times in the last four years and seems to be significantly thicker than my other cards.
  • A “liberty tier card” that declares that I am indeed allowed to leave the confines of the military base, that I do not have to adhere to a curfew, and that I understand that I am a representative of the U.S. military. Yes, this requires a card. A card that I have never gotten checked by anyone. Ever. But if I get caught without it, I could get arrested by the military police (or so I’ve been warned).
  • My COVID-19 vaccination card. Even though everyone had to get the vaccine at boot camp when I joined. The only time I ever had to show this to anyone was going through customs in South Korea at the airport – in 2022. When COVID was still a thing in Asia. I have never needed it since, but I’m too scared to throw it out because Uncle Sam says I can’t.
  • My U.S. military SOFA/Japanese driver’s license. Yes, I live in Japan. Yes, I have to fold the shitty paper license in half because it’s barely too big to fit in my wallet normally. Yes, it’s laminated and literally impossible to fold. Therefore, it takes up extra unnecessary space.
  • My A-Driver certificate. When someone drives a big scary military vehicle, they are required to have someone ride in the passenger seat and help them back their vehicle up and navigate them. I was that person… a lot. It also requires a piece of paper. A piece of paper saying that I am a step above a useless passenger and am certified to be a useful passenger if necessary. It also must be folded and takes up too much space.
  • My rifle cards. Rifle cards say that I have a rifle that is issued to me. They say my name and the serial number of my rifle and that I am allowed to have it when I need it. In other words, they are kind of useless unless you need to prove to someone that your rifle is actually yours. As a member of a military band, I really didn’t touch my rifle all that much anyway. And there are three cards because why would we put everything on a single card? And they are thick and take up space.
  • The room key to my barracks room. Thought a CAC could open doors? It can. But not the barracks room door in Okinawa because the barracks were built in the 1950s and are full of black mold and asbestos. However, the government will likely fix this door situation long before they consider removing the carcinogens from the barracks.
  • An actual library card – because even though your CAC can be used as a library card, the librarians don’t like to use that because it requires an extra click on the computer, and they are just military spouses getting paid minimum wage. So unless you want some serious side-eye from an underpaid and over-pissed librarian, you better use your separate library card.

And then in addition to the countless items I’m required to have, I’m also a human who needs a wallet to carry the things I need to carry, such as:

  • My personal credit and debit cards.
  • My personal driver’s license.
  • Cash because Japan seems to prefer cash to cards.
  • A Japanese transportation card because in the train, Japan seems to prefer card to cash I don’t make the rules, and I know that this makes absolutely no sense. I have an anthropology degree, and I still can’t figure this one out.
  • A punch card for a store that I have been to once and have no punches in but what if I go there again sometime? I honestly forget about it, and it is so buried in my tiny wallet underneath the plethora of required government cards that I don’t know where it is or what store it is for anymore. But it is in there, and I might go to that store again someday if I ever remember what it was or what it’s called or where it is.

The Marine Corps has given me a lot. I traveled the world, I met great people, and my joints hurt like hell. But above all, my wallet is stretched to an unfixable point, and I believe my first goal after I get out of the military is to buy a new wallet.


Anna Campbell is an active-duty Marine and aspiring author. Her work focuses on prose that highlights the absurdities and humor of everyday life, not limited only to military life. Campbell is a native of Iowa and received her B.S. in Anthropology from Oregon State University.