You missed a spot

Every time I think that I have seen the full extent of the pure evil nature of my DIs, they prove me wrong.  All my life I've heard that if you don't like the weather in New England, wait a minute.  That principle can be applied here.  Sgt Smith is a hard man.  I don't think that he knows what sympathy is and I know for a fact he doesn't know what empathy is.  Our platoon scribe is a kid named Throck, that is short for Throckmorton.  Yes that is quite a mouthful.  Throck bears a striking resemblance to Drew Carey.  He is about 5'8, has a belly, wicked thick glasses and a seriously high pitched voice.  Throck has been on PI for two months because he broke his leg and got rolled back in training.  Throck can be whiny and seems to operate on his own program.  More than just about any other recruit, he seems to inspire the ire of Sgt Smith.  We were waiting in the chute at the chow hall at lunch time.  Throck was standing in the line closest to where Sgt Smith was cussing out the platoon.  All of a sudden Throck reaches up and with his left hand and smacks his right forearm and quickly tries to put his hand back to his side.  Of course, it made a loud smacking sound and Sgt Smith saw this.  He yells at Throck to get out of line and explain himself.  The exchange went like this:

Smith:  What in the HELL are you doing Throckmorton?

Throck:  (High pitched voice) Sir, killing a mosquito Sir!

Smith: (Smacks Throck in the face with his right hand and then uses that hand to guide him toward the back of the platoon) Come with me Throckmorton!

(Now at the rear of the platoon)

Smith: Don't unpack your bags son, you won't be staying here very long!

Throck is an extremely nervous young man.  This has completely freaked him out.  He's terrified of Sgt Smith.  During Senior Square Away time, Throck asks the Senior if he should be nervous about what Smith said to him.  The Senior who is not the most even tempered man quickly and emphatically says "Throck you don't have to worry about how long you're staying till I tell you that you're in trouble.  Now sit down and shut up!"  Throck seemed more at ease after this which makes me seriously doubt his intelligence because there was nothing reassuring about that statement.  

Now you might be saying to yourself right now that wasn't so bad.  Maybe you're right.  A drill instructor slapping a recruit in the face (not supposed to happen, but it does) isn't that bad.  But maybe you'll feel differently about this.  We had an inspection today.  So last night we had to shave, scrub our hands and fingernails and get a pre-inspection inspection (yes that apparently is a real thing)  We had to come out and stand in front of Sgt Smith with our hands presented at waste level and then turn our heads to the right, left and sky.  If we were clean enough we got to our foot lockers, if not we had to go back and try again.  Now shaving is really rough for the black recruits because some of them get really bad razor bumps.  It goes so bad for some of them that Medical will issue No-Shave Chits.  Guys would be coming out of the head bleeding because they had cut off a razor bump and then Smith would cuss them out.  Now that's pretty bad, getting forced to painfully shave, cutting yourself and then getting an ass chewing for it.  But that's not the focus of my story.  One recruit, Hockenberry (I am not making these names up!!!) is a 5'7 white kid from Pennsylvania.   He is a little slow and not really athletic.  The most distinguishing feature he has is severe acne and pits on his face.  It actually looks like mountains and valleys on his cheeks.  Hockenberry is also terrified of Sgt Smith.  Hockenberry shaved his face as close as he could.  Let's just say he shaved too close.  He came out of the head with a beard of blood from all the acne he cut off. (This is not an exaggeration!!!)  He stood in front of Sgt Smith for inspection and at first Smith's eyes bulged out of his face in shock.  Here's what happened next:

Smith:  What in the HELL were you doing in there Hockenberry?!?!

Hockenberry:  Sir shaving Sir!

Smith:  (Stares at him menacingly then inspects him, then he points at one side) You missed a spot. Go do it again.

So Hockenberry went back into the head and shaved again!  When he came out the second time looking just as jacked up as he did the first time, Sgt Smith inspected him and then sprayed him in the face with after shave!  I don't even want to imagine how much that must have stung.  

Diet trays to the front

When I first went to my recruiters office I weighed 242 lbs.  That was in March.  When I left for PI, I weighed 222 lbs.  My recruiter told me that I needed to weigh 225 before I left.  This freaked me out because I was having trouble hitting that mark.  If I didn't get to 225 or below would they not let go to boot camp? (Bear in mind that at this point I don't think that would have been the end of the world but I did then!)  Well, it turns out that this was one of many false things that my esteemed recruiter told me.  I could have weighed 250 and as long as I could pass the IST they would have let me go to boot.  Why does this bother me?  It bothers me because what the bastard should have told was that I needed to get under 215 lbs because is the weight limit for men who are 74 inches tall.  Had he told me that then I would have worked harder and cut more weight.  Instead I came down here thinking that I had lost enough weight and low and behold my DIs held a different view.  I have been placed on diet tray.  This means that when we go to chow I have to move to the front of the line when we go in and announce to the mess staff that I need a diet tray.  All my brown skivvy shirts have two white lines printed on the front and the back so the DIs know to spend a little extra time torturing me during PT.  All of this just seems to add to the overall humiliation and brain washing that this wonderful place has to offer!

That being said it should be noted that this place might be the best dietary program in the history of the world.  I came here at 222 on June 15th.  It is July 1st and I weigh 200 lbs.  I asked the Senior when a recruit can get off the Diet Tray program and he told me they would take me off when I was 15 lbs under the weight limit.  I'm not rocket scientist but that should mean that I should be off diet tray NOW!  Well, as with everything else they do down here, the DIs operate on their own time frame or whenever they F@#$ING feel like it.  Anyways, there is a side effect to losing 22 lbs in fifteen days and that is that you can lose muscle and stamina as well.  I am exhausted.  I could eleven pull ups when I came here and now I am maxing out at seven.   This came into play when we had pugil sticks the other day.  The first two times we had pugil stick matches I won easily because I was stronger than my opponent.  This last time I got knocked around for two reasons, I am a lot lighter and I am not used to it.  I know why it happened and so do the DIs but that didn't stop the evil bastards from chewing my ass for losing.  You know, maybe that's why I'm dropping weight so fast cuz the damn DIs chew our asses so much!!

Do you think that I am making up how devious the DIs are?  Do you think that I am exaggerating because of how much I hate them and this place?  Maybe you have a point.  However, I want you to consider this little tale first.  Every night we have Senior Drill Instructor time.  We all sit around with the Senior and mail is passed out and he tells what is going on the world.  Everyone wants to get mail.  Sometimes guys get packages with food in them.  Not just any food either, candy or sweets!  If a guy gets one of these packages he has to come to the front, open in front of everyone and he can eat what's in it until all the mail is passed out.  However, this is yet another of the Catch 22s.  When all the mail is passed out, you aren't allowed to keep what's left.  You must turn it in to the heavy who puts in the trash and then dumps cologne and bleach on it after he tears open all the packaging to ensure that no one will attempt to eat it later. (I've seen guys dig through the trash at night and eat the stuff anyways!  Desperate times I guess!)  Then the guy who got to eat will get called up the quarterdeck and get PT'd for about 15 minutes or until he looks like he's gonna throw up or actually throws up!  The DIs love it when a recruit pukes!  I haven't gotten any care packages yet, and honestly I don't want one.  I think I'll write a letter to my dad and tell him not to send me anything other than letters, I catch enough hell from these vultures as is.

You aren't worth...

We have been Platoon 2070 for a week and it has been the longest week of my life.  I read every book, saw every movie I could find and talked to as many Marines as I could about what PI is like.  I actually thought I was prepared for this.  I must be a complete fool.  I wasn't ready for this.  This is a God damn nightmare.  The DIs are omniscient, maniacal, slave drivers.  The other recruits in this platoon are either completely insane or complete idiots.  I've seen guys sleep walk, and have night terrors.  One of the sleep walkers must have been dreaming about getting his ass chewed out because he was screaming "SIR, YES SIR" and standing on line.  I am not kidding.  One of the guys has pissed his bed every night.  He's eighteen years old for Christ sake?!?!  This one big black kid must have decided that this isn't for him because he waited by the door of the DI office and when SSgt Askew came out, he slapped Askew's hat right off his head and said "I'm going home and if you try to stop me, I'm gonna kick your ass!"  Are you kidding me?!?  This dude was big and he had the jump on Askew.  I really thought somebody was gonna get killed.  Instead what happened was SSgt Askew pulled a Jedi mind trick on this big bastard.  He talked him down and brought him in to his office.  Of course it should be noted that he never came back out.  I can only assume that the Heavy either sent the kid packing or that he killed him and ate his remains.

I never thought that marching in a formation could be so difficult.  This platoon either can't listen or can't understand simple instructions.  We start drilling and before we even get 20 feet we inevitably hear "Oh hell no! Get back!"  So everyone turns and runs back to where we started and we try again.  This goes on for hours!  It is ridiculously humid here, and there are little bugs that swarm around your head because of the layer of sweat that is always there.  If you move, wince or God forbid slap at one, you will get destroyed by whichever one of the DIs sees you..  and one of them will ALWAYS see you.

I'll go more into detail about the general insanity of this place some other time, for now I want to focus on one that happened.  We apparently are the worst collection of screw ups and retards in the known universe according to our DIs.  They are so sick of us that the Heavy chewed our asses out last night for at least an hour.  He took the Platoon guidon and threw it in the trash.  He told us, and this is a quote, "Not one of you is worth how many hours your pathetic mothers were in labor with you!"  Well, this got a reaction from a few guys, including me, but one of the squad leaders spoke up and said "Sir, this recruit doesn't appreciate that.  Some of these recruits' mothers are dead, Sir!"  The next thing the Heavy said was quite possibly the most evil and cruel thing I've ever heard.  He said "Good, then they aren't here to see the DISGRACE you've all become!"  He delivered this line with such venom that I have no doubt he meant it.  After that he basically told us that if we don't get our heads out of our asses and start doing things the right way that we will all wish we were never born.  I am relatively convinced that this is Hell and that if the Heavy isn't Satan, then he is his right hand man.

Lights! Lights! Lights!

I used to watch the Marine Corps' ad when I was a kid that said "We do more before 9 am than most people do all day!" It seemed to me that they were either lying or that most people don't do shit.  Well, I can only speak for myself as a recruit at Parris Island, it's not a lie and most people don't do shit!!  There are three words that every recruit who goes through Marine Corps boot camp will learn to love and hate based on when they're said, either at Reveille or Taps.  Those three words are "Lights! Lights! Lights!"  In the morning when you hear them it means get your worthless ass up and on line for the head count immediately.  There is no snooze option.  There is only instant obedience.   Don't believe me?  Well, on our second day as Platoon 2070 one young man found out what happens when you don't get up.  He stayed in bed while the rest of us got on line.  The Heavy went over and knelt down next to his head and said softly (to my eternal amazement) "Son, it's time to get up." The kid said "Five more minutes, please?" The Heavy didn't even bother to reply.  What he did instead was stand up, grab the mattress and flip the kid out of bed and onto the floor.  The startled recruit jumped up with his fist clenched and was met instantly by the Heavy and the other two green belts who were all screaming at him "Go ahead and swing and you will not even feel your teeth break as your face hits the floor!!!  Now get your ass on line now!!!"  On line does not mean connect to the Internet and check your facebook.  The squad bay is a wide open room with beams that divide into three sections.  On the port side (left) and starboard side (right) there are rows of bunks and footlockers.  The middle of the squad bay is called the DI Highway.  It bears this name for to reasons: 1) this where the DIs inspect the platoon because the recruits line up in between the beams on each side (Hence the term ON LINE) and 2) if a recruit steps into the middle, he will get run over.

While on the subject of the DI Highway, I should probably introduce the other two Green Belts.  Sgt Smith is a short, bald white man with a sarcastic wit and an evil disposition.  He has a spider web tattoo on one of his elbows and what I can only assume is a woman on the other.  I say assume because I can only see the legs beneath his shirt sleeve.  Sgt Smith doesn't answer questions right away.  Instead he stares you down menacingly an sticks his hand, which he holds hook shaped, into your face and twists it until he finally answers in a quiet evil whisper.  He's an extremely scary individual who I'm convinced may have murdered several people before he joined the Marines. Sgt Cain is a tall, wiry, young white man who wears glasses and is the closest living resemblance to Where's Waldo that I've ever seen.  He is the only DI that makes mistakes when he gives orders which gets snickers from the platoon and then all of us in trouble. Cain is also the only DI that every single member of the platoon believes they can kick the snot out of in a straight fight.  He speaks with a weird drawl that makes him sound like he has minor cerebral palsy.  Maybe that is too harsh a way to describe him but I can't think of a kinder one.  Have you ever seen Police Academy?  When Lt Harris introduces himself to his cadets he tells them "You are going to hate my guts for the rest of your lives."  Sgt Cain seems like he studied Lt Harris.

The days are long and there are absolutely no amenities.  This is a bare essentials existence.  Every thing is done on the go.  Even chow is fast.  And the DIs have tricks for days.  Everything they say is a test.  The Senior came through the chow hall and asked us if we were enjoying chow.  2070 responded "YES SIR!"  Then he asked if we wanted seconds.  Again, "YES SIR!"  The Senior smiled and then loudly said you got 30 seconds to finish and began counting down from 30.   Like I said, everything is a test and we just flunked!  Now I said that "Lights, Lights, Lights" are the most hated and welcome three words at boot camp depending on when you hear them.  At night when you hear them it means the day is over and you have survived a day in the closest thing that resembles Hell.

Oh You Want to Move Slow?!?!?

Everything that happens during boot camp is planned, regimented and expertly timed.  The precision is mind boggling and down right scary.  This entire experience is a manufactured brain scramble.  Everyone here volunteered to be here.  Every single person signed their names on the dotted line and said "Let's do it!"  The Drill Instructors asked to be here.  The recruits asked to be here.  Everybody WANTED to be here.  Yet, deep down everyone HATES it here.  It's because Parris Island is a means to an end.  As Joker said in Full Metal Jacket "A 13 week college for the phony tough and the crazy brave."  Okay, so Joker said eight in the movie but times have changed.  We spent the last three days in Indoc getting our heads shaved, getting poked and prodded, getting our basic issue, being yelled at for everything including breathing wrong (that's right, I said for breathing wrong!), not being allowed to sleep.  All of this was done in preparation to BEGIN training.

So after the dust settled on the IST (Initial Strength Test for those who are just tuning in) and the groups were divided, the somewhat smaller platoons march to their new homes to meet their Drill Instructors.  For me that means that I am now a part of Platoon 2070, Golf Company 2nd Battalion.  2070 was the last platoon formed and our squad bay is on the 3rd deck of the barracks.  Once we get to our squad bay we immediately report to the front and sit form a school circle.  Four men, our DIs are waiting for us.  Staff Sergeant Noland is our Senior Drill Instructor.  He is a tall and lean white man and has a deep raspy voice and an angry scowl.  There a short ceremony where he explains that it his and his team's mission to train us.  His exact words are "We will make every effort to train you, even after some of you have given up on yourselves."  Once the ceremony is over the Senior, as he will be called from this point forward, turns the platoon over to his Heavy.  The Heavy Hat Drill Instructor is the enforcer, and for the recruits of Platoon 2070, his name is Staff Sergeant Askew.  He is a tall and lean black man with a booming voice and a cutting stare.  SSgt Askew is a walking breathing nightmare.  Once the Senior closed the door to his office, a terror was unleashed.  Orders were barked and people started running this way and that way.  Everything had to be done at ridiculous speed.  "Get on line now! 10-9-8-3-2-1 YOU'RE DONE! STOP MOVING!"  I don't know if he noticed that he left out 7-4 but I sure as hell am not going to tell him.  The DIs were inventorying our gear.  If someone was missing something, they got their asses chewed out!  "Where is your canteen?!? Why are you a worthless piece of nasty trash!?!?  You better miracle me a canteen or I will DESTROY YOU!!!"  This went on for the next hour.   I can't even honestly describe to you at this point what the other two DIs looked like because they moved so fast and furiously they looked like angry pointing, screaming blurs...  I have a feeling this is going to get a lot worse without the luxury of getting better!

Why Oh Why?!?!

I can't believe how much insanity can occur in just a couple days.  I can't believe how little sleep a person can get and still function.  I can't believe that the Marine Corps clams to be the finest fighting force in the world and recruits such unbelievable idiots.  I mean young, dumb and full of cum doesn't scratch the surface.  My platoon has over 130 guys in it (Only 75 will graduate, but we'll get to that later) and you could say that we're a motley crew.  You have black militants, racist rednecks, stud athletes, geeks, a Russian immigrant, a pair of twins, high school dropouts, college graduates (me and one other guy), morons, gang bangers, smart asses, alpha males, cocky little punks, failures, and criminals.  The only thing we all have in common is that for some reason we all want to be Marines.  Personally I wonder every minute what the hell I am doing here.

We have marched back and forth between three buildings for the last three days.  We aren't allowed to talk, or move without permission.  We have been taken to the dentist and the eye doctor (I fell asleep while I was reading the eye chart and smacked upside the head...  So much for no physical abuse!).  We lined up outside medical and removed our blouses (Cammie long sleeved shirt.  Don't you love Marine jargon?!?!) and rolled up the sleeves of our brown T-Shirts.  Then we snaked around this big room to eventually stand in front of what I can only describe as a gauntlet.  Six Naval Corpsmen lined up in in pairs, each has a shot gun (not a double barrel or a 12 gauge, but literally a hand held shot gun with a needle, a big handle trigger and mixture of shots in it ranging from Flu vaccine to TB).  Each of us has to walk in between the three pairs and stand there while each loads his gun and then fires a shot into the meaty part of the shoulder, I can't help but wonder if this is what cows feel like as they are branded.  Six actual shots, I don't know how many vaccines, one recruit fainted during the second round of shots and one recruit who threatened to punch the Corpsman if he even thought about sticking that gun in his arm.  He was pulled out of line.  I can only assume that I'll never see him again.  After this pleasant experience it was time for head calls (bathroom breaks).  I was taking a leak when the guy in the next stall passed out while he was pissing.  Yes you heard me correctly.  When he fell, he fell forward but he kind of crumpled.  He hit his face on the toilet and broke the toilet and his jaw.  Can you believe that?  He was on the floor face down, with his hand on his junk, a piece of the toilet next to his head and he was still pissing?!?!  Turns out his name was Crooks.  Crooks had a hell of a first day and he spent the next couple weeks with his jaw wired shut.  The funny part was that when he came to the Drill Instructor cussed him out for breaking the toilet?!?!

Before I left for this Godforsaken place my friend Dan told me to bring a packet of Nodoz with me and not to get caught with it.  I brought it with me, but the DIs spook me out so much that I threw it away.  I really shouldn't have.  Sleep deprivation is a powerful tool. Combine that with being kept in the dark about what's going on and having a maniac scream in your face about everything you do is mentally, physically, and emotionally destructive.

Now I don't know what some of these retreads were thinking when they signed up, but what shocks me the most is that some of them failed the initial strength test.  A couple guys couldn't do a pull up.  Not one pull up!  To pass you need to do three.  A bunch couldn't do fifty crunches in two minutes.  To pass you need to do seventy.  And a whole butt load couldn't run a mile and a half in under fifteen minutes.  So all of these failures were taken away to Physical Conditioning Platoon, PCP or Pork Chop Platoon for two weeks and will try to pass the IST again.  Screw that!!!  That's two extra weeks in hell that doesn't count for remedial physical training!!  One guy started crying when he found out he had failed and just started running down the street wailing.  Where the F@#$ did he think was going?!?  Besides if he'd run as fast during the test as he did while he was trying to escape he might have passed.