Boot Camp Part 2

March 17, 2009
Camp Johnson
17:03 - I didn't even realize it was St. Patrick's Day until about fifteen minutes ago, if that.

With my devotional book, bible, and wallet containing my ID and social security card in my pocket, we are told to look down. I guess you can assume that every time I say "we are told" that it means someone screams at us to do something.

Underneath every ones' cubby area are two camouflage duffle bags, called "War Bags." They seem to be filled with stuff. I don't know what's in them and I'm not told, but I get one anyway. Everyone has one war bag full of gear and we are all moved to another room, adjacent to the current large room we're in. (I can try to find pictures and put them in here at some point. Remind me.).

In the next room is a line of phones against a wall seperated by wooden walls. Everything that I encounter either seems to be painted red or yellow. These are the Marine Corps official colors. On another wall is a large window, kind of like a window you'd see in a cafeteria, with a door that slides up. In the room the window is revealing are a lot of boxes and some Marines standing around.

A big Mexican Sergeant impatiently instructs us on what we are doing. We all have to line up behind a phone and call a number. "I don't care who you call or if they answer, but you're calling someone!" The Sergeant yells. I start getting nervous. I'm already pretty jarred and I don't want to sound weak on the phone with anyone in my family. There is a piece of paper on the wall that we have to read. It says something like:

"Hello, this is _____. I have safely arrived at MCRD San Diego and have been picked up from the airport. I will begin training this Friday with my training platoon. My date of graduation will be_______."

There was something else after the last blank but I don't recall what it was. Yeah, it's hard enough for me to remember anything on this night as the emotional state I was in prohibited a lot of rational thought. I finally arrived at the phone and dialed home. I remember my dad answered. "Hello?" I think I said "Hey, dad." my voice already wavering. I wasn't crying, but I was pretty shooken up. I immediately started reading the sheet interrupting anything he had to say. Unfortunately the blank where my graduation date would have been was just that: a blank. I paused, confused and didn't say anything and then I finished what else I had to read and hung up. That is the last time I heard one of the voices of my family members until November.

We then lined up next to the window in the wall and a Marine put a cover (a hat) on our heads to measure our head size. He marked something on our hand and then looked us up and down to get our trouser size. He marked something on my hand and said, "MOVE RECRUIT!" to which I stumbled away to the window where someone gave me a desert cammie 8 point cover (the hat we wear in cammies) and a pair of desert cammie trousers. They are "Medium Long." Everyone gets their cover and their pants and sits in rows on the floor. We're all still wearing civilian clothes, but the transformation has already begun, since our heads are all shaved.

The most bizarre thing about this entire sequence is that the whole time, there's something playing behind us in another room that we can all hear. It's some sort of conversation between females about sex and they're talking about some guy they thing is attractive, and if they had sex with him or not. I believe this is on to distract us. I'm pretty sure we were meant to hear it, but no one has ever acknowledged it at any stage of my training.

When we're sitting in our rows, the Mexican Sergeant who's pretty pissed off (or just into character) approaches and tells us to open the war bags and get out the green t-shirts, skivvies (underwear), green shorts, a web belt, brown boot socks, and a glow strap (also known as a glow belt, geek strap, fag strap, or reflector belt). We scramble to get this crap out as he counts down and screams at the people who haven't found the items in their bags yet. Keep in mind, our bags are full of a lot of other stuff that we don't even have a chance to take note of yet.

Finally, we are told to take off our shirts and put the green shirt on. We take off our pants, our socks, and underwear all in front of each other and about 20 inches away from each other. It's awkward. We put on the white briefs, which I hate since I wear boxers normally. We put the green shorts on over that. We put on the desert cammie pants and the web belt, which is a brown belt with a brass buckle. We're told to put the glow strap on around our waste and tighten it. I'm too nervous and someone behind me helps tighten it. The belt is velcro, and I remember ripping most of one of the velcro straps off so it kind of hangs. I'm afraid it's going to break and I'll get screamed at. I have this fear for maybe the next two weeks since it was the only glow belt I had.

At this point, I looked around the room. Five minutes ago we had all been individuals. Now we all had the same pants and shirts, and our heads were all shaved. We were one. We were all the same. I specifically remember being stunned by this, even at the time. I didn't have much time to think about it, but I'll never forget that moment. Even if I didn't write this, I wouldn't have forgotten the moment I noticed how we all transformed into the same person. At this point, I began to feel like I was about ten years old instead of feeling like I'd just finished a year of college. I felt like a little kid for maybe the first whole month of boot camp. It's an awful feeling to look back on.

We put all our civilian clothes into a white mesh laundry bag and put it into the war bag. Next up, The Moment of Truth. (sounds scary but it isn't)