August 18, 2009
Camp Lejeune
20:20
T6 - Upper Strikes
The beginning of my second week of actually training begins like any other. We wake up to "LIGHTS LIGHTS LIGHTS LIGHTS! GET OUTTA THE RACK! GET UP! LET'S GO! WELL, YOU HAVE 300299298297296295..." as Sgt. Virto runs up and down the Drill Instructor Highway (middle of the squadbay). Sgt. Saldana is behind him screaming as well. We are tired, annoyed, pissed, we have to piss, we're nervous because we don't know what's in store for us today.
"LEFT BOOT SOCK, GET IT ON YOUR BODY NOW! WELL, YOU HAVE [counts down]" yells Sgt. Virto and I scramble to pull a brown sock onto my left foot. "Ten nine eight seven six five four three two one, you are..."
"DONE, SIR!" we answer in unison. We stand at attention but of course someone doesn't have their sock on all the way. You'd be surprised how hard it is to get a sock on when someone's screaming at you. And of course we all have to take our socks off in a time limit and start over. Eventually we're totally dressed.
"PORT SIDE GET IN THE HEAD, STARBOARD SIDE MAKE YOUR RACKS. READY..." we take a breath. "MOVE!"
We yell "KILL!" in response. The port side of the squad bay scrambles to get into the head to piss and brush their teeth. We, on the starboard side, scramble to make our racks as one of the DIs counts us down. Miranda, my half brain dead rackmate, will hardly respond to me when I make a suggestion. It's either "huh?" or "what?" which is more frustrating than it sounds.
Either way we survive without wetting our pants.
After eating breakfast and whatnot we change over into green cammies for MCMAP training, which I come to hate eventually. We march over to a "pit" filled with rubber chunks and get covered and aligned in a mass formation with the rest of follow series. There's an instructor with a green shirt in front of us (the DIs wear a shirt of the color of their battalion, in our case red).
We begin by doing warm up excersises. We start with "BENDSANDTHRUSTS!" as the instructormakes it sound. This is dropping down, shooting your legs out, doing a pushup, and jumping back up. These are sometimes called burpees.
After this we learn about setting up the dojo. The Mexican instructor we have (who's talking on a bullhorn periodically so we can all hear) says it like this: "set up the doJO!" People who went through Boot Camp in San Diego within the past year or two know exactly who I'm talking about. It's a well quoted phrase to say the least. I can't recall his name, but it was one of those long, Hispanic compound names.
We begin with "body hardening" which I'm not exactly comfortable with at first. This involves essentially hitting your partner while he hits you to deaden your nerves a little bit. We hit the insides of our elbows together, the insides of our wrists, we punch eachother in the stomach, we kick the outside of eachother's thighs, and we kick the inside of eachother's thighs. The first couple times I did this was with a guy named Moulard. Physically, he's a beast. As we do it he keeps muttering "harder to me" as we beat each other in tandem. I'm wincing pretty much every hit, and the worst is getting kicked inside the groin. Ouch.
Either way we finish it and learn basic "Upper Strikes" such as punching and uppercuts. It's all worthless talk and just a time waster if you ask me. MCMAP is through in my opinion, especially the initial training one must suffer.
Everytime we execute a strike we have to do it twice and say "KILL! KILL!" which sort of makes me grin now. If I were watching recruits do this I'd probably break out laughing.
After this nonsense the training finishes...we eat...we hygiene...we hydrate...we sleep.
T7 - Pugil Sticks I
It seems like when I tell people about Boot Camp they always ask me about this part. "Did you get to do that thing with the sticks and the football helmets?"
"Yes...I did that. They're called Pugil Sticks. It's overrated."
After beginning the day like we normally do, we go to a large PT area. We've all picked up a rubber M16. Some people have really shitty ones that are bent or rusted. Parts of them are rubber, but most of them are metal. You could still do some serious damage with them. We take a rubber bayonet and click it onto the end of the barrel.
We all "set of the doJO" once again with our rifles and learn various butt strokes and bayonet stabbing moves. This all translates over to the pugil sticks, which have a red end (the front) and a black end (the back) to simulate an M16. There are some people I definitely would have rather used a rubber rifle on.
We organize by weight class (I was 150 at the time if I'm not mistaken) and line up in order of heaviest to lightest. Once at the end there are recruits that dress us with a flack jacket, large gloves, a groin protector, and a hockey/football helmet. The whole time we're watching other people in the large circle next to us fight (there are about three or four fights going on at a time if I'm not mistaken). The photographer that was taking pictures of us during pick up is walking around snapping shots of peoples faces. I didn't get photographed during this time, unless I missed it when I examined the CD back in April.
Finally, it's my turn. Many of the fights have been called by an instructor based not on how many times a person hits the other guy, but how accurately they execute one of the moves we were just taught.
I get into the ring with someone from another platoon, who stares me down through the mask on his helmet. The whistle is blown and we rush at eachother. He throws his stick around a couple times and I block him, and I execute one butt stroke, hitting him in the head with the black end of the stick. The whistle blows again. The green shirt comes over and hits me in the head. "Winner," he says. "Horizontal butt stroke," he says, which is the move I won with. Well, that was my ego booster for the week. I run out and take my stuff off and go back to where all of our canteens are staged. I stand in formation with other recruits from my platoon and drink water, waiting for everyone to finish.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Boot Camp Part 10
August 16, 2009
Camp Lejeune
21:03
I've been doing a good amount of writing today, the most I've done since back in March and April, so here's a second entry for you.
T3 - Intro to MCMAP (Marine Corps Martial Arts Program aka A Joke)
I remember this day fairly well. It was too hot for training when we were actually supposed to be outside doing MCMAP (pronounced McMap). At the time we were wearing deserts, so for MCMAP we were switching over to greens, which I thought looked pretty badass. They're much more severe looking and with the sleeves rolled down, they just look cooler. At this point I believe we were also wearing our boots. Earlier in the week we were wearing desert cammies with tennis shoes...which obviously looks retarded. There's probably pictures you can find (or I can post) of recruits looking stupid like this.
Either way we were changed over and I was excited and then we had to change back to deserts! It was a "black flag" or something which means the USMC packs up and goes inside for the day. We sat around in one of the other platoon's squad bays as a MCMAP instructor demonstrated some of the Tan Belt moves we would be learning. He briefly mentioned body hardening, which I will get into later.
I became pretty disturbed at the time when we were shown the Eye Gouge move. You read that right, yes. We were shown how to gouge someone's eye out. Well, make that shown how to theoretically gouge an eye out. I doubt if anyone's every tried it with this form of martial arts in Iraq of Afghanitan. Normally we, you know, blow up the enemies with bombs or guns before we get that close. But you never know do you?
After the MCMAP we could have done any number of things. The first week at recruit training is very blurry to me, I can't lie about that. It was a shocking experience (not the first week, but just the whole transition).
Of course, we practiced more drill. See, Initial Drill was coming up in two or three weeks, and we had to look sharp for it, so practice for that is pretty continuous.
T4 - Marine Corps History
T4 was another classroom day.
I wake up, stand on line, get dressed in "300 seconds," go piss, brush my teeth, and get back online. Then I run downstairs in front of the barracks to my spot in the formation and we march to chow. Then we form it up outside and march to the classroom. Today is "History I." We are taught a brief period of history from the genesis of the Marine Corps through the Civil War if I'm not mistaken. Then we leave and do other things. More drill. Weapons maintenance. At some point in the week we learn how to totally disassemble our M16s and clean them, so basically the M16s are now a burden. It's a burden not lifted from our shoulders until November.
T5 - Sprints
This day is simply called "Sprints" on the matrix because that's what we did for PT (physical training). Sprints is a pointless Saturday activity. It's the same old sports exercise where you do high knees down to one end, jog back. Butt kicks and jog back. Sprint down and jog back. Kareoke and jog back. It probably takes three hours for follow series to complete this pointless exercise. This is when I realized that PT in Boot Camp was going to be easy, and I wasn't wrong at all.
Sunday
Another Sunday means another day with free time means another day I spend about an hour at church crying. It feels so strange everytime I go to church, because it's a total escape. I know that between this church service and the next service I'll be going through something awful during the weekdays. Living Boot Camp for me was living from meal to meal, church service to church service. The Drill Instructors will try and convince you that this is the unmotivated to live through the experience, but I guarantee it's the only way anyone makes it. Living meal to meal makes a day go by in the blink of an eye.
When I finish church (which I may have gone to with Pavlik) I power walk back to the squad bay. Every Sunday we have to re-mark everything. This means I have to have a 1 by 6 piece of a note card cut and stamped with my name from my marking kit (a stamp with my name on it which I still have). I need enough of these to mark my foot locker in two places, my rack, my rifle, my rifle rack, and I don't remember what else. This is the first time I've gotten free time all week. We haven't yet begun to get an hour in the evening like we will when our schedule levels out. We've still been showering by the numbers and such. Still playing Two Sheets & a Blanket (tearing the blankets and sheets off our racks and remaking them in a time limit or doing it all over again).
When free time is over we march to lunch. Then we practice drill.
P.S. Sorry for the tense change during the beginning. This isn't the most polished thing in case you haven't noticed. I'm just trying to get my ideas and memories down in a basic skeleton for something to polish later.
Camp Lejeune
21:03
I've been doing a good amount of writing today, the most I've done since back in March and April, so here's a second entry for you.
T3 - Intro to MCMAP (Marine Corps Martial Arts Program aka A Joke)
I remember this day fairly well. It was too hot for training when we were actually supposed to be outside doing MCMAP (pronounced McMap). At the time we were wearing deserts, so for MCMAP we were switching over to greens, which I thought looked pretty badass. They're much more severe looking and with the sleeves rolled down, they just look cooler. At this point I believe we were also wearing our boots. Earlier in the week we were wearing desert cammies with tennis shoes...which obviously looks retarded. There's probably pictures you can find (or I can post) of recruits looking stupid like this.
Either way we were changed over and I was excited and then we had to change back to deserts! It was a "black flag" or something which means the USMC packs up and goes inside for the day. We sat around in one of the other platoon's squad bays as a MCMAP instructor demonstrated some of the Tan Belt moves we would be learning. He briefly mentioned body hardening, which I will get into later.
I became pretty disturbed at the time when we were shown the Eye Gouge move. You read that right, yes. We were shown how to gouge someone's eye out. Well, make that shown how to theoretically gouge an eye out. I doubt if anyone's every tried it with this form of martial arts in Iraq of Afghanitan. Normally we, you know, blow up the enemies with bombs or guns before we get that close. But you never know do you?
After the MCMAP we could have done any number of things. The first week at recruit training is very blurry to me, I can't lie about that. It was a shocking experience (not the first week, but just the whole transition).
Of course, we practiced more drill. See, Initial Drill was coming up in two or three weeks, and we had to look sharp for it, so practice for that is pretty continuous.
T4 - Marine Corps History
T4 was another classroom day.
I wake up, stand on line, get dressed in "300 seconds," go piss, brush my teeth, and get back online. Then I run downstairs in front of the barracks to my spot in the formation and we march to chow. Then we form it up outside and march to the classroom. Today is "History I." We are taught a brief period of history from the genesis of the Marine Corps through the Civil War if I'm not mistaken. Then we leave and do other things. More drill. Weapons maintenance. At some point in the week we learn how to totally disassemble our M16s and clean them, so basically the M16s are now a burden. It's a burden not lifted from our shoulders until November.
T5 - Sprints
This day is simply called "Sprints" on the matrix because that's what we did for PT (physical training). Sprints is a pointless Saturday activity. It's the same old sports exercise where you do high knees down to one end, jog back. Butt kicks and jog back. Sprint down and jog back. Kareoke and jog back. It probably takes three hours for follow series to complete this pointless exercise. This is when I realized that PT in Boot Camp was going to be easy, and I wasn't wrong at all.
Sunday
Another Sunday means another day with free time means another day I spend about an hour at church crying. It feels so strange everytime I go to church, because it's a total escape. I know that between this church service and the next service I'll be going through something awful during the weekdays. Living Boot Camp for me was living from meal to meal, church service to church service. The Drill Instructors will try and convince you that this is the unmotivated to live through the experience, but I guarantee it's the only way anyone makes it. Living meal to meal makes a day go by in the blink of an eye.
When I finish church (which I may have gone to with Pavlik) I power walk back to the squad bay. Every Sunday we have to re-mark everything. This means I have to have a 1 by 6 piece of a note card cut and stamped with my name from my marking kit (a stamp with my name on it which I still have). I need enough of these to mark my foot locker in two places, my rack, my rifle, my rifle rack, and I don't remember what else. This is the first time I've gotten free time all week. We haven't yet begun to get an hour in the evening like we will when our schedule levels out. We've still been showering by the numbers and such. Still playing Two Sheets & a Blanket (tearing the blankets and sheets off our racks and remaking them in a time limit or doing it all over again).
When free time is over we march to lunch. Then we practice drill.
P.S. Sorry for the tense change during the beginning. This isn't the most polished thing in case you haven't noticed. I'm just trying to get my ideas and memories down in a basic skeleton for something to polish later.
Boot Camp Part 9: Training Begins
August 16, 2009
Camp Lejeune
12:01
1st Phase - T1 - Interior Guard
Training begins on the Tuesday after we receive our rifles. I wish I could elaborate more on what happened today, but all I'm going by is the training matrix. We receive a class on Interior Guard, which involves us "drilling" over to the House of Knowledge and running into the classroom while being screamed at. Nothing new.
It escapes me who taught the class. There were assorted instructors who were former DIs who taught classes and had different reactions to us falling asleep or having to get up, get out, and go to the head across the street. The classes are a nightmare. At our recommended 8 to 12 canteens a day, this is when a normal person has to take a piss: the most awkward time. I have to find someone else to go with me, then we have to walk up one of the side isles in the classroom, then we have to somehow get through the gaggle of Drill Instructors waiting outside the class.
We have to yell "GOOD MORNING, GENTLEMAN!" and it's never loud enough so we have to keep screaming it as we power walk across the street to use the bathroom at the armory. Worst case scenario a DI follows you and counts you down as you both piss in the same urinal, just like in the mornings.
After the class we learn drill. Column lefts & rights, left & right obliques, about face. We learn the simple things first. When we do good Sgt. Virto says "Good job, you understand me?" "YES SIR!"
Then someone will screw it up. He'll act like he takes it personally and we'll have to "RUN!" in one direction until he says zero.
"Zero!"
"Freeze or die!"
Then we'll have to "RUN!" in the opposite direction. This is how we learn to march. Of course at this point we still march at a painfully slow pace, but we pick up speed. If we mess something up then we march slow again.
T2 - First Aid
Today we begin the torturous process of learning our basic first aid. In the "Green Monster" binder we have I think there's something like 5 first aid classes. It's awful. We learn several basic first aid things. Let's see if I can remember them all:
Sucking Chest Wound
Amputation
Chemical Burn
Head/Eye Wound
Hemorrage
Rescue Breathing
Stomach Wound (intestines hanging out)
Compound Fracture
I feel like I'm missing one. We go to another classroom to learn these. It's sort of like a small gymnasium with bleachers that we're crammed into. If someone falls asleep the Sgt. instructing will call him a faggot. We'll have to stand up and sit down over and over and over again. We're wearing an awkward green belt with canteen pouches on it with our full canteens, which we're drinking constantly. Then of course everyone has a burning desire to take a piss and several people get up and leave which brings the instructor to say:
"You're all going to leave? You want to disrespect me like that?" or something to that extent.
We get in trouble by our own DIs because of things like this.
After classes one day it turns out that there are some people in our platoon who are going crazy. SSgt. Arzola (Senior DI) calls the platoon in a school circle around him in the middle of the squad bay.
"Hey, is this really that bad?" he asks, sort of with a knowing grin.
"No, sir!" we yell accordingly.
"You just gotta think of it as like a gang initiation, but you're joining the most badass gang in the world," he says reassuringly.
There was a recruit who I believe claimed he was thinking about suicide. He wasn't the first to go. Reedy was his name and he eventually left. There was another one named Raymond who claimed to have "bad dreams" who I didn't expect to leave.
Another guy named Truitt kept giving up. We were punished many times for him during 1st phase. He had already been at MCRD or a month before I got there, having been held in either the PCP or MRP platoon after being dropped from his own training platoon.
We received some other people like this, including Kinney (a fellow Lutheran) who ended up becoming a squad leader, although he didn't arrive until T8.
At the end of the day, we have our hygiene inspections, jump into the racks (I have the bottom one at this point), lay still for taps, and go to sleep.
Camp Lejeune
12:01
1st Phase - T1 - Interior Guard
Training begins on the Tuesday after we receive our rifles. I wish I could elaborate more on what happened today, but all I'm going by is the training matrix. We receive a class on Interior Guard, which involves us "drilling" over to the House of Knowledge and running into the classroom while being screamed at. Nothing new.
It escapes me who taught the class. There were assorted instructors who were former DIs who taught classes and had different reactions to us falling asleep or having to get up, get out, and go to the head across the street. The classes are a nightmare. At our recommended 8 to 12 canteens a day, this is when a normal person has to take a piss: the most awkward time. I have to find someone else to go with me, then we have to walk up one of the side isles in the classroom, then we have to somehow get through the gaggle of Drill Instructors waiting outside the class.
We have to yell "GOOD MORNING, GENTLEMAN!" and it's never loud enough so we have to keep screaming it as we power walk across the street to use the bathroom at the armory. Worst case scenario a DI follows you and counts you down as you both piss in the same urinal, just like in the mornings.
After the class we learn drill. Column lefts & rights, left & right obliques, about face. We learn the simple things first. When we do good Sgt. Virto says "Good job, you understand me?" "YES SIR!"
Then someone will screw it up. He'll act like he takes it personally and we'll have to "RUN!" in one direction until he says zero.
"Zero!"
"Freeze or die!"
Then we'll have to "RUN!" in the opposite direction. This is how we learn to march. Of course at this point we still march at a painfully slow pace, but we pick up speed. If we mess something up then we march slow again.
T2 - First Aid
Today we begin the torturous process of learning our basic first aid. In the "Green Monster" binder we have I think there's something like 5 first aid classes. It's awful. We learn several basic first aid things. Let's see if I can remember them all:
Sucking Chest Wound
Amputation
Chemical Burn
Head/Eye Wound
Hemorrage
Rescue Breathing
Stomach Wound (intestines hanging out)
Compound Fracture
I feel like I'm missing one. We go to another classroom to learn these. It's sort of like a small gymnasium with bleachers that we're crammed into. If someone falls asleep the Sgt. instructing will call him a faggot. We'll have to stand up and sit down over and over and over again. We're wearing an awkward green belt with canteen pouches on it with our full canteens, which we're drinking constantly. Then of course everyone has a burning desire to take a piss and several people get up and leave which brings the instructor to say:
"You're all going to leave? You want to disrespect me like that?" or something to that extent.
We get in trouble by our own DIs because of things like this.
After classes one day it turns out that there are some people in our platoon who are going crazy. SSgt. Arzola (Senior DI) calls the platoon in a school circle around him in the middle of the squad bay.
"Hey, is this really that bad?" he asks, sort of with a knowing grin.
"No, sir!" we yell accordingly.
"You just gotta think of it as like a gang initiation, but you're joining the most badass gang in the world," he says reassuringly.
There was a recruit who I believe claimed he was thinking about suicide. He wasn't the first to go. Reedy was his name and he eventually left. There was another one named Raymond who claimed to have "bad dreams" who I didn't expect to leave.
Another guy named Truitt kept giving up. We were punished many times for him during 1st phase. He had already been at MCRD or a month before I got there, having been held in either the PCP or MRP platoon after being dropped from his own training platoon.
We received some other people like this, including Kinney (a fellow Lutheran) who ended up becoming a squad leader, although he didn't arrive until T8.
At the end of the day, we have our hygiene inspections, jump into the racks (I have the bottom one at this point), lay still for taps, and go to sleep.
A Map
To the right of the House of Knowledge is where Dental is. Underneath the PT Field area, you can just make out the edge of the runway. Yes, it's really that close.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Boot Camp Part 8
July 16, 2009
Camp Lejeune
17:32
My apologies to those who follow this blog. I just haven't been feeling all that great to write over the past couple months, but I'm trying to push myself out of this slump and get back into it.
Sunday Part 2
I left out "Field Day."
What happens every Sunday during Recruit Training? A little thing we like to call field day. For most people this is a day during the last few days of school in elementary school where you get to skip classes and play sports all day. For Marines it means cleaning.
In Boot Camp it entails this:
There are about twenty racks on each side of the squad bay. All of them must be moved over to the opposite side of the squad bay to sweet and mop in their place. This means we have to move all of the footlockers as well and all of the shoe displays underneath the racks. For inexperienced recruits this can lead to mixing up each others' shoes or footlockers. We are given about an hour by our DIs to get everything done. This includes cleaning out the head, rain room, shitters, pissers, ladder wells (stairs), and every nook and cranny we can find. On Monday morning, the squad bays of each platoon are inspected by company level personnel and they decide if you pass or fail. This is reduced to an individual level while in the Fleet Marine Force.
Monday
The fairytale that is Sunday is now over. We've learned how to field day and cleaned everything. Everyone knows Monday as the last day before training begins. Why is this important? This is the day we get our M16's issued to us. Of course I'm pretty exited about it and am prepared to feel like a badass. I know that the weapon will become a burden eventually (not realizing the extent of it) but I'm not going to let that bring me down yet.
We march past the house of knowledge by the large building where the yellow footprints are from the first night of arrival. Past it and on the right is the armory. I know our platoon isn't the only platoon there to receive weapons. Some, if not all of the other platoons from follow series are there as well. We halt and file off from out formation to stand behind long tables with nothing on them. We're under an overhang and still outside, not sweating though because the heat in San Diego is dry heat.
Of course, the entire time giant jumbo jets are landing at the airport directly in front of me and the sound drowns everything out. After a few minutes some Corporal gets up on a tower in front of us that's about three meters high and begins instructing us on what's going to happen. We're going to get M16's.
Eventually we file off. Recruits carrying their old rifle back from the weapon rack with them to their original spot at the tables are trying to hide smiles of pride and exitement. This is particularly apparent with Crump I remember (who was known as Einstein in receiving). Finally, my row filed off. I remember being between Mellies and another guy who I was beginning to single out from the others as being entertaining to talk to. I forget his name. Since we were alphabetical it obviously began with an M, but I don't recall. Wait, I got it: Miller. Miller was in front of me and Mellies, the human box of rocks was behind me.
The first time I held an M16 was actually in mini-boot camp, so I wasn't all that surprised at how light it felt, but I was still kind of tingly I guess you could say. It was an exiting time to be at Boot Camp.
We laid the M16's out and were then issued cleaning gear. This includes some metal rods, a tooth brush thing, some CLP (lubricant), and other brushes and such to clean the weapon with.
Afte being issued I believe we signed a form and then had to memorize our rifle serial number.
10274137
I still remember.
Camp Lejeune
17:32
My apologies to those who follow this blog. I just haven't been feeling all that great to write over the past couple months, but I'm trying to push myself out of this slump and get back into it.
Sunday Part 2
I left out "Field Day."
What happens every Sunday during Recruit Training? A little thing we like to call field day. For most people this is a day during the last few days of school in elementary school where you get to skip classes and play sports all day. For Marines it means cleaning.
In Boot Camp it entails this:
There are about twenty racks on each side of the squad bay. All of them must be moved over to the opposite side of the squad bay to sweet and mop in their place. This means we have to move all of the footlockers as well and all of the shoe displays underneath the racks. For inexperienced recruits this can lead to mixing up each others' shoes or footlockers. We are given about an hour by our DIs to get everything done. This includes cleaning out the head, rain room, shitters, pissers, ladder wells (stairs), and every nook and cranny we can find. On Monday morning, the squad bays of each platoon are inspected by company level personnel and they decide if you pass or fail. This is reduced to an individual level while in the Fleet Marine Force.
Monday
The fairytale that is Sunday is now over. We've learned how to field day and cleaned everything. Everyone knows Monday as the last day before training begins. Why is this important? This is the day we get our M16's issued to us. Of course I'm pretty exited about it and am prepared to feel like a badass. I know that the weapon will become a burden eventually (not realizing the extent of it) but I'm not going to let that bring me down yet.
We march past the house of knowledge by the large building where the yellow footprints are from the first night of arrival. Past it and on the right is the armory. I know our platoon isn't the only platoon there to receive weapons. Some, if not all of the other platoons from follow series are there as well. We halt and file off from out formation to stand behind long tables with nothing on them. We're under an overhang and still outside, not sweating though because the heat in San Diego is dry heat.
Of course, the entire time giant jumbo jets are landing at the airport directly in front of me and the sound drowns everything out. After a few minutes some Corporal gets up on a tower in front of us that's about three meters high and begins instructing us on what's going to happen. We're going to get M16's.
Eventually we file off. Recruits carrying their old rifle back from the weapon rack with them to their original spot at the tables are trying to hide smiles of pride and exitement. This is particularly apparent with Crump I remember (who was known as Einstein in receiving). Finally, my row filed off. I remember being between Mellies and another guy who I was beginning to single out from the others as being entertaining to talk to. I forget his name. Since we were alphabetical it obviously began with an M, but I don't recall. Wait, I got it: Miller. Miller was in front of me and Mellies, the human box of rocks was behind me.
The first time I held an M16 was actually in mini-boot camp, so I wasn't all that surprised at how light it felt, but I was still kind of tingly I guess you could say. It was an exiting time to be at Boot Camp.
We laid the M16's out and were then issued cleaning gear. This includes some metal rods, a tooth brush thing, some CLP (lubricant), and other brushes and such to clean the weapon with.
Afte being issued I believe we signed a form and then had to memorize our rifle serial number.
10274137
I still remember.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Boot Camp Part 7
May 11, 2009
Camp Lejeune
22:08
Sunday
The first Sunday marks exactly a week since I have seen my family at home. We wake possibly an hour later I believe, but it’s the same as it always is. Waking up during Boot Camp and getting online is my least favorite time of the day until the day I graduate. I just hate having to be rushed through so many things at once and get counted down to dress myself. Of course if someone doesn’t get their left sock on in “100 seconds” than we all have to take off our left socks in a certain time and start all over again. There are several times where we put our socks on, then trousers, and then someone is too slow getting their blouse on so we have to take everything off and start again. Don’t worry; we’re not naked when we start over again. We go to sleep in our green “skivvie” shirt and shorts and wake up wearing them
Like yesterday, we follow the same basic routine and form up in a platoon formation outside. It’s a long march to the Chow Hall from our barracks, and Sgt. Virto marches us very slow. In theory, I guess you can’t march at a fast cadence if you can’t do it slow first, but it’s very irritating taking such slow steps.
“Left right…left…right…left…right” he calls out.
We eat breakfast and return to the squad bay. We make a head call and form up back outside and march to a large theater. Our whole company is sitting waiting, along with everyone else who is waiting for the Protestant service to start. I’m hoping I don’t have to sit through a generic non-denominational service. Luckily we start breaking off by religion.
“Lutherans!” I get up and run outside through a door. It’s kind of weird getting screamed at when you’re on your way to church. There are a handful of Lutherans. We march from the auditorium all the way across the entire parade deck and to the opposite side of the parking lot next to it. The Lutheran chapel is in the far corner of the Recruit Training Regiment area. The Drill Instructors tell us to be respectful and to not fall asleep. They’re not allowed inside the actual church though, and they wait outside menacingly, prowling around.
The inside of the chapel is nice. It reminds me of my church at home, simple and homey. It’s sort of small, but its enough room for the Lutherans. There’s an old woman answering some of our questions before church starts. She explains that it’s a generic Lutheran service, and the green hymnals in the pews support her statement.
I’m thinking about how Mellies raised his hand two separate times when Catholics were called to stand up yesterday and when Jews were asked to stand. Apparently he’s a Catholic Jew. We’ll pick that story up near the end of Second Phase.
The Chaplain is in the front walking around. He looks to be about in his forties. I later learn that he’s a Lieutenant Commander, which is the equivalent of a Major in the Marine Corps.
He tells us that he is a Lutheran Church Missouri Synod Chaplain, which sets my mind at ease when I think about taking communion. Now I know that it’s safe for me to do so. I start missing home. I’m sitting there in the pew next to these other brand new recruits and recruits who are way ahead of us in training surround us. They look bigger, tougher, and more confident. We look like kids.
Before the first hymn plays, the Chaplain asks the first row of people to stand up and face us. They’re wearing Service Charlies (a sort of dress uniform) and are brand new Marines. We clap for them and they sit down. When the music starts playing I start thinking of my family back home sitting in my church. My dad’s giving the sermon and my mom and sister are singing in choir. Everyone else I know is there, not a worry in the world compared to what’s going on in my mind.
I can’t sing because my voice is almost totally gone from yelling. An unknown fact about me is that I actually enjoy singing in church, and this new development depresses me even more than I already am. My eyes start to fill with tears. One rolls down my cheek. I try and keep this hidden from others around me but I notice that most of them are crying too. Between no one knowing how to sing, no one’s voice being good enough to sing, and people crying, the hymn doesn’t really work, but the organist covers it up well.
I spend the rest of the service trying not to just burst into tears. When the sermon comes I do my best to stay awake. Others openly sleep. Some people have somehow snuck the sports sections of newspapers in and are reading them. I’m ashamed of the people who go to church to simply escape since I actually have gone to church almost every Sunday my entire life.
After the service is over and I calm down, there’s a five minute break and then we have about an hours worth of a Luther’s Catechism class type thing. After that we leave and it’s back into reality for me.
We get into our column of twos and march back to the theater. We rejoin people in our platoons and wait to go to lunch. We march to the chow hall, eat, and go back to the squad bay.
I don’t remember what we did back there, but I know we had our IT brief that day. We march back down the main road to a grassy area with a red PT table. The series Drill Instructors get in the table and recruits from a third phase platoon are called out. We learn about IT. IT stands for Incentive Training. It’s known more commonly as “getting slayed” or “going to the dirt.” It’s what happens when you get in trouble. It involves doing a few exercises at a fast pace in succession without stopping. It’s awful. The exercises include:
Pushups
Side Straddle Hops (Jumping Jacks)
Crunches
Steam Engines
Mountain Climbers
Other companies may have had different ones, but these are the main five that we had to do. Tomorrow, the first Monday, it was fair game for the DIs to IT anyone who screwed up, no matter how small the mistake they made.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Boot Camp Part 6
April 13, 2009
Camp Lejeune
8:51
Saturday
The next day is considerably more relaxed than the scream-fest that Black Friday was. That’s not to say that we’re laid back, “smokin’ and jokin’.” Sgt. Saldana is almost always on the prowl. Sgt. Virto is around all the time as well. SSgt. Arzola hasn’t really addressed the platoon since his speech yesterday.
On Saturday we wake up early as usual. Waking up in the training platoon is a little more intense than waking up in the receiving squad bay. When the lights turn on, either Sgt. Saldana or Sgt. Virto run down the drill instructor highway screaming “LIGHTS LIGHTS LIGHTS LIGHTS GET OUTTA THE RACK GET OUTTA THE RACK LET’S GO! WELL, YOU HAVE 100 99 98 97 96 95…”
“10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1, YOU ARE…”
“DONE SIR!”
We do a thing called morning BDR (Basic Daily Routine) which involves making our rack, brushing our teeth, and taking a piss. Most of us are about to wet our pants because we’ve been drinking a lot of water, and were out cold so we didn’t go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
We do things half the platoon at a time in the morning. Each side of the squad bay is either the Port Side or the Starboard Side. I’m on the port side I believe, and we’re first to go to the head. We literally run in there and start doubling up on urinals. This is a daily occurrence. I could probably count the times on one hand that I pissed in a toilet by myself while I was a recruit. Of course we are counted down to do this. I’m not sure if I’ve stated this yet, but getting counted down to do something is called doing it “By The Numbers.”
When we’re finished with that, our half of the platoon runs out of the squad bay and back on line in front of our racks. The other half of the platoon disappears with one of the DIs and we’re left with one of them who starts counting us own to make our racks with out any wrinkles. This is done utilizing the buddy system, and Miranda (who’s actually in the same room with me as I write this) is somewhat of a useless rack mate. He just moves kind of lethargically. He’s the opposite of Wick, who when he’s nervous tries to do everything really fast. Miranda just kind of locks up and I get really frustrated by it. We finish that garbage and the other half of the platoon comes back out.
Now it’s time to get dressed by the numbers.
“BLOUSES ON THE BODY NOW!”
We put on our blouses in a time limit. We put our pants on. We put our “go-fasters” on. We look retarded, I’ll have to draw what we look like at different stages to illustrate this.
We go to chow and come back. Saturday is sort of a day for us to learn how things are going to be done in the squad bay on a regular basis. On the training matrix it’s called “in-house procedures.” The training matrix is funny because it only lists one thing for each day even though we wake up around 5AM and go to sleep at around 9:30. I’m pretty sure we do more than one thing per day…
We’re sitting around on the quarterdeck (the front of the squad bay) in a classroom formation. That just means that we’re sitting in rows. We sit “left over right” which is how they describe the Indian style way of sitting. We sit that way because it’s a shooting position and they think that sitting in that position without a rifle will somehow make us more used to the position when we actually do it with an M16.
Sgt. Virto is going over all of the info on how we’ll do laundry, when we’ll do it, what we’ll wash, who we’ll wash it with, when we get mail (he’ll make us wipe our ass with it if he sees us reading it outside of free time), and some other things. He starts assigning the platoon billets. I think at this point Syer was appointed the guide. Syer’s a pretty big kid from Missouri who’s Puerto Rican. Sgt. Virto picks the scribes initially as Wilkerson, Rohl, Boyle (Number 1), and one of the Ramirezes. Wilkerson is a big guy wearing BCGs (Birth Control Glasses, the thick brown glasses that get issued at boot camp, I hadn’t gotten mine yet) who’s also married. I’m sure he got picked because of the glasses. The same with Rohl, though he was wearing his civilian “portholes” still. Rohl was a nerd, but he ended up being a pretty fun guy to talk to despite his weirdness. Scribes usually get picked for their level of nerdy appearance. Their job is to write down a lot of stuff and keep track of records. Boyle…I’m not sure why he got picked. Boyle’s the guy who’s the stereotypical tall, slow person. At least that’s what his first impression seems like. Ramirez, J is picked as the fire watch scribe. I never got to know him that well and I talked to him a few times. He seemed like a pretty laid back guy. His job was to make the fire watch roster.
The squad leaders at the time…I have no idea who they were. They were changed pretty often, but I’m positive one of them was Uzzel (pronounced “uh-ZEL” I think, at least that’s how I said it). Uzzel was pretty much a squad leader throughout the entire cycle, fired only a few times.
Sgt. Virto then needed “house mice” whose job it is to clean the duty hut during field day (cleaning). “Who’s my shortest recruit?” Sgt. Virto asks. I turn my head to see who’s going to stand up.
Tran
This is pretty much the first time I realize who Tran actually is, and I try not to laugh but I can’t help it. He’s just so…funny looking. He’s a tiny Vietnamese guy who’s the exact opposite of what you expect when you hear Marines. He’s always got a strange confused look on his face. His English is decent, but he speaks slow and in a voice that is a couple octaves up from what E.T. sounds like.
“Well, you’re definitely my ugliest recruit,” Sgt. Virto responds. He makes him sit back down. Sgt. Virto takes this time to make fun of people’s names. “Shube,” he reads from the roster. “Lube,” he adds after pausing. Of course there are confusing names like Niswonger, Tinejero, Tijerina, and such that Sgt. Virto has a little trouble with. He gets my name right from the start. He probably reads Uzzels name wrong. SSgt. Arzola refers to him as “oozle.” Than of course there’s Santos, the 30-year-old Filipino college graduate with a wife and kids. His voice is ridiculously high pitched and his English is not good. Sgt. Saldana often makes him “sound off” over and over again, so every day at some point I hear an “AYE AYE, SIR!” screeching over and over again.
After sitting around we get a religious brief in the big red room with the TV screens again. The whole company is in there; both series and we wait for the Chaplain, who’s a Lieutenant in the Navy. He finally comes in and starts going over this power point of why it’s important to go to church, how he won’t help us get out of boot camp, and other things. He starts getting groups of religions to stand up. He asks the Lutherans to stand, a few people do. Some guy raises his hand and asks if Christian Science is like Scientology. The Chaplain says it’s related. I almost fall asleep. We go to afternoon chow, we go to evening chow. Whatever else we did that day must not have been that important, because I don’t remember it.
After we hygiene by the numbers, it’s time to learn how to do our hygiene inspection. Every night we have to be standing online in nothing but our underwear wearing our shower shoes. First the guide goes to the duty hut and pounds on the piece of wood on the wall.
“GOOD EVENING GENTLEMAN! THE TIME ON DECK IS 20:30! PLATOON 1067 IS ONLINE AND READY FOR HYGINE INSPECTION, SIR!”
And then the platoon repeats that.
Than we hear a muffled “turn on the radio!” from inside the duty hut. We then repeat “TURN ON THE RADIO AYE AYE, SIR! CLICK CLICK!” and then everyone hums a pitch, it sounds awful. Then the guide starts “FROM THE HALLS…”
“OF MONTEZUMA
TO THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI!
WE WILL FIGHT OUR COUNTRY’S BATTLES
IN THE AIR ON LAND AND SEA!
FIRST TO FIGHT FOR RIGHT AND FREEDOM
AND TO KEEP OUR HONOR CLEAN!
WE ARE PROUD TO CLAIM THE TITLE OF
UNITED STATES MARINES!”
All out of tune and tempo. It sounds pretty bad. Then the DI comes out of the duty hut with a flashlight and we have to do a stupid little report when he shines it at us and says “HIT IT!”
“SNAP! GOOD EVENING SIR! RECRUIT MILAS, CHAMPAIGN ILLINOIS! 0300 REGULAR SIR!”
We scream that with our elbows locked to our sides, our palms straight out and facing down, and our forearms parallel to the floor. Our head is turned all the way to the right.
The DI says “FLIP!”
We face our palms up and our head pops to the other direction.
“POP! THIS RECRUIT HAS NO PERSONAL OR MEDICAL PROBLEMS TO REPORT AT THIS TIME, SIR!”
“SPIN!”
“SPIN AYE AYE SIR!” We do a 180 so our back is facing him. We must turn to the right, not the left.
“POST!”
“POST AYE AYE SIR! GOOD EVENING SIR!” Than we put our shorts and shirt on and wait for everyone else to go. The whole platoon takes about 30 minutes because we do this in groups of four usually. There’s the occasional night when the Senior is on deck and has everyone do it at the same time because he wants to go to sleep.
After the hygiene inspection we get a 5 minute prayer time. We get a short period of time to say something in front of the platoon. We put our “shoe display” on top of our footlocker, and we go to sleep.
Camp Lejeune
8:51
Saturday
The next day is considerably more relaxed than the scream-fest that Black Friday was. That’s not to say that we’re laid back, “smokin’ and jokin’.” Sgt. Saldana is almost always on the prowl. Sgt. Virto is around all the time as well. SSgt. Arzola hasn’t really addressed the platoon since his speech yesterday.
On Saturday we wake up early as usual. Waking up in the training platoon is a little more intense than waking up in the receiving squad bay. When the lights turn on, either Sgt. Saldana or Sgt. Virto run down the drill instructor highway screaming “LIGHTS LIGHTS LIGHTS LIGHTS GET OUTTA THE RACK GET OUTTA THE RACK LET’S GO! WELL, YOU HAVE 100 99 98 97 96 95…”
“10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1, YOU ARE…”
“DONE SIR!”
We do a thing called morning BDR (Basic Daily Routine) which involves making our rack, brushing our teeth, and taking a piss. Most of us are about to wet our pants because we’ve been drinking a lot of water, and were out cold so we didn’t go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
We do things half the platoon at a time in the morning. Each side of the squad bay is either the Port Side or the Starboard Side. I’m on the port side I believe, and we’re first to go to the head. We literally run in there and start doubling up on urinals. This is a daily occurrence. I could probably count the times on one hand that I pissed in a toilet by myself while I was a recruit. Of course we are counted down to do this. I’m not sure if I’ve stated this yet, but getting counted down to do something is called doing it “By The Numbers.”
When we’re finished with that, our half of the platoon runs out of the squad bay and back on line in front of our racks. The other half of the platoon disappears with one of the DIs and we’re left with one of them who starts counting us own to make our racks with out any wrinkles. This is done utilizing the buddy system, and Miranda (who’s actually in the same room with me as I write this) is somewhat of a useless rack mate. He just moves kind of lethargically. He’s the opposite of Wick, who when he’s nervous tries to do everything really fast. Miranda just kind of locks up and I get really frustrated by it. We finish that garbage and the other half of the platoon comes back out.
Now it’s time to get dressed by the numbers.
“BLOUSES ON THE BODY NOW!”
We put on our blouses in a time limit. We put our pants on. We put our “go-fasters” on. We look retarded, I’ll have to draw what we look like at different stages to illustrate this.
We go to chow and come back. Saturday is sort of a day for us to learn how things are going to be done in the squad bay on a regular basis. On the training matrix it’s called “in-house procedures.” The training matrix is funny because it only lists one thing for each day even though we wake up around 5AM and go to sleep at around 9:30. I’m pretty sure we do more than one thing per day…
We’re sitting around on the quarterdeck (the front of the squad bay) in a classroom formation. That just means that we’re sitting in rows. We sit “left over right” which is how they describe the Indian style way of sitting. We sit that way because it’s a shooting position and they think that sitting in that position without a rifle will somehow make us more used to the position when we actually do it with an M16.
Sgt. Virto is going over all of the info on how we’ll do laundry, when we’ll do it, what we’ll wash, who we’ll wash it with, when we get mail (he’ll make us wipe our ass with it if he sees us reading it outside of free time), and some other things. He starts assigning the platoon billets. I think at this point Syer was appointed the guide. Syer’s a pretty big kid from Missouri who’s Puerto Rican. Sgt. Virto picks the scribes initially as Wilkerson, Rohl, Boyle (Number 1), and one of the Ramirezes. Wilkerson is a big guy wearing BCGs (Birth Control Glasses, the thick brown glasses that get issued at boot camp, I hadn’t gotten mine yet) who’s also married. I’m sure he got picked because of the glasses. The same with Rohl, though he was wearing his civilian “portholes” still. Rohl was a nerd, but he ended up being a pretty fun guy to talk to despite his weirdness. Scribes usually get picked for their level of nerdy appearance. Their job is to write down a lot of stuff and keep track of records. Boyle…I’m not sure why he got picked. Boyle’s the guy who’s the stereotypical tall, slow person. At least that’s what his first impression seems like. Ramirez, J is picked as the fire watch scribe. I never got to know him that well and I talked to him a few times. He seemed like a pretty laid back guy. His job was to make the fire watch roster.
The squad leaders at the time…I have no idea who they were. They were changed pretty often, but I’m positive one of them was Uzzel (pronounced “uh-ZEL” I think, at least that’s how I said it). Uzzel was pretty much a squad leader throughout the entire cycle, fired only a few times.
Sgt. Virto then needed “house mice” whose job it is to clean the duty hut during field day (cleaning). “Who’s my shortest recruit?” Sgt. Virto asks. I turn my head to see who’s going to stand up.
Tran
This is pretty much the first time I realize who Tran actually is, and I try not to laugh but I can’t help it. He’s just so…funny looking. He’s a tiny Vietnamese guy who’s the exact opposite of what you expect when you hear Marines. He’s always got a strange confused look on his face. His English is decent, but he speaks slow and in a voice that is a couple octaves up from what E.T. sounds like.
“Well, you’re definitely my ugliest recruit,” Sgt. Virto responds. He makes him sit back down. Sgt. Virto takes this time to make fun of people’s names. “Shube,” he reads from the roster. “Lube,” he adds after pausing. Of course there are confusing names like Niswonger, Tinejero, Tijerina, and such that Sgt. Virto has a little trouble with. He gets my name right from the start. He probably reads Uzzels name wrong. SSgt. Arzola refers to him as “oozle.” Than of course there’s Santos, the 30-year-old Filipino college graduate with a wife and kids. His voice is ridiculously high pitched and his English is not good. Sgt. Saldana often makes him “sound off” over and over again, so every day at some point I hear an “AYE AYE, SIR!” screeching over and over again.
After sitting around we get a religious brief in the big red room with the TV screens again. The whole company is in there; both series and we wait for the Chaplain, who’s a Lieutenant in the Navy. He finally comes in and starts going over this power point of why it’s important to go to church, how he won’t help us get out of boot camp, and other things. He starts getting groups of religions to stand up. He asks the Lutherans to stand, a few people do. Some guy raises his hand and asks if Christian Science is like Scientology. The Chaplain says it’s related. I almost fall asleep. We go to afternoon chow, we go to evening chow. Whatever else we did that day must not have been that important, because I don’t remember it.
After we hygiene by the numbers, it’s time to learn how to do our hygiene inspection. Every night we have to be standing online in nothing but our underwear wearing our shower shoes. First the guide goes to the duty hut and pounds on the piece of wood on the wall.
“GOOD EVENING GENTLEMAN! THE TIME ON DECK IS 20:30! PLATOON 1067 IS ONLINE AND READY FOR HYGINE INSPECTION, SIR!”
And then the platoon repeats that.
Than we hear a muffled “turn on the radio!” from inside the duty hut. We then repeat “TURN ON THE RADIO AYE AYE, SIR! CLICK CLICK!” and then everyone hums a pitch, it sounds awful. Then the guide starts “FROM THE HALLS…”
“OF MONTEZUMA
TO THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI!
WE WILL FIGHT OUR COUNTRY’S BATTLES
IN THE AIR ON LAND AND SEA!
FIRST TO FIGHT FOR RIGHT AND FREEDOM
AND TO KEEP OUR HONOR CLEAN!
WE ARE PROUD TO CLAIM THE TITLE OF
UNITED STATES MARINES!”
All out of tune and tempo. It sounds pretty bad. Then the DI comes out of the duty hut with a flashlight and we have to do a stupid little report when he shines it at us and says “HIT IT!”
“SNAP! GOOD EVENING SIR! RECRUIT MILAS, CHAMPAIGN ILLINOIS! 0300 REGULAR SIR!”
We scream that with our elbows locked to our sides, our palms straight out and facing down, and our forearms parallel to the floor. Our head is turned all the way to the right.
The DI says “FLIP!”
We face our palms up and our head pops to the other direction.
“POP! THIS RECRUIT HAS NO PERSONAL OR MEDICAL PROBLEMS TO REPORT AT THIS TIME, SIR!”
“SPIN!”
“SPIN AYE AYE SIR!” We do a 180 so our back is facing him. We must turn to the right, not the left.
“POST!”
“POST AYE AYE SIR! GOOD EVENING SIR!” Than we put our shorts and shirt on and wait for everyone else to go. The whole platoon takes about 30 minutes because we do this in groups of four usually. There’s the occasional night when the Senior is on deck and has everyone do it at the same time because he wants to go to sleep.
After the hygiene inspection we get a 5 minute prayer time. We get a short period of time to say something in front of the platoon. We put our “shoe display” on top of our footlocker, and we go to sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)