Today you are no longer Maggots...

After 12 weeks of pain, humiliation, sleep deprivation, and digging deeper than we thought possible we have arrived at the end of this chapter of our journey.  It is September 10, 1999 and it is Graduation Day.  We should be higher than we have ever been.  But that wouldn't be Platoon 2070's style.  We started Basic as the screw-up platoon and by God we will end as the screw-up platoon.  Before we leave to march over to the parade deck, our Heavy does a final walk through of the platoon.  As he is walking through the racks, he stops and looks both puzzled and confused.

He yells, "This rack smells like piss! Why does this rack smell like piss?!? Whose rack is this?"

It's Hawkins rack. He sounds off "It's my rack SSgt!"

The Heavy replies "Why does it smell like piss?"

Hawkins states "Because I pissed my bed every night SSgt!"

Metaphorically speaking this opened the floodgates! The Heavy went absolutely crazy.  He demanded to know who Hawkins rack mate was.

Umoren said "I'm his rackmate SSgt!"

The Heavy stayed on point. "Did you know he was pissing his rack every night?!"

Umoren replied "Yes I did SSgt."

The Heavy screamed "God damn it U-MORON, you're a God damn squad leader!! This should have been reported! Hawkins clearly has a mental issue and this should have caused him to be evaluated and kicked out of the platoon! You were supposed to report this!  Why didn't you?!?!?"

Umoron replied "Because we don't leave men behind SSgt!"

The Heavy didn't break stride, "Do you think covering up for someone's deficiency means that you have honor?  Marines have honor God damn it!! None of you has any honor! You're all a disgrace!" Then he stormed out of the squad bay.

Did I mention that today is graduation day?

10 years and a lot of ups and downs

My Marine Corps journey began on March 9, 1999 when I decided to enlist.  I have written extensively about boot camp and all the trials that it offered.  Much to the annoyance of some of my friends, I haven't gotten to the "good" parts yet or introduced any significant recurring characters.  There is a simple reason for this.  All the details are the good parts, and the significant character in this story is me.  This is my story.  I began writing it down because I wanted to pour it out and look at it to see what it revealed.  This story is more than a creative outlet.  It's a self study.  The Marine Corps profoundly changed my life.  It made me stronger.  It made me weaker.  It made me more confident.  It made me more self-conscious.  It cost me some friends.  It made me a better husband, father and friend.  It gave me nightmares.  Since I left the Marine Corps in September 2003, I have gotten married, had a son, and earned a Master's Degree.  I have also lost five jobs for reasons ranging from budget cuts to personality conflicts to not making it my whole life.  I guess it would be easy to look at either the successes or the failures and pass judgment.  I'm never late. I rarely take a day off.  I am honest.  I make mistakes and I own up to them.  For some reason, I don't think that my opinion matters.  This is a bi-product of my service.  I don't argue with bosses or offer my opinion when I disagree.  I'm starting to realize that this may be hurting me in the civilian world.  I think that I have been labeled as lacking for being willing to try to do things differently.  Once again I find myself at the end of one opportunity and searching for another.  I've been soul-searching.  I've been trying to remember that 6'2 and bullet proof feeling I had in September 1999 when I said I'll never be afraid of anything because surviving P.I. meant I could survive anything.  So, I think the time has come to get serious once again.  I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog and that you are ready to get hit with a lot more.  Five for Fighting wrote in the song "Chances" that "Chances lost are life's torn out pages", well you gotta take them before you can tear them down.  I have always loved Shawn Michaels of the WWE not because he's the Show Stopper, the Icon, or the Main Event.  I have loved him because he has failed as often as he's succeeded, sometimes worse, but he has always found his way back to the light. He sums up how I've been feeling lately...

Military Translations

Good to go! -- Ready! or Ya whatever!

I need (a) volunteer(s) -- I'm going to pick someone for a job that's going to suck and may be dangerous!

Be in formation at ____! --- It doesn't matter what time is stated, be 15 minutes earlier or you're screwed!

Oh?!?!? You want to move slow?!?!? --- Get ready to do something tedious very quickly!!!

Tell me a story.. --- Admit what you did and prepare to get your ass chewed!!!

You're a real ball of fire--- You are a waste of life!!

What was your class rank? --- No matter the answer the next question is going to be "So you mean to tell me that there are ____ people just walking into walls?!?!"

Do I have to kill you?? --- There is no correct answer, prepare for an ass chewing!!!

So and so said do this --- I want you to do this but I don't want to hear you bitch so I'm blaming someone else.

With all due respect --- This is an attempt to say "F@#$ YOU"

Let me see your ID --- I want to know if I can chew your ass

Once you get to MOS School, the Fleet, Overseas etc you'll see how it really is --- Your unit sucks and that other places are cooler.

Back when I was a... --- Back in my day everything was harder and crazier and I miss it!!!

No!! Your military right!! --- Hey Dumbass... That's your left side!!!!

Message to Garcia --- Get the job done and don't ask any F@#$ING QUESTIONS!!!

Stop/Loss --- DON'T MAKE ANY PLANS!!!!

First Civ Div --- the "real" world

Do you see any care in this eye? --- I don't care at all!!!

Mission Accomplishment comes before Troop Welfare --- Exactly how it sounds!!!

It never seems to end...

We went to the chow hall after the EGA Ceremony for a Warrior's Breakfast.  Since we arrived here on June 16th, we've eaten what we got and we've eaten fast.  Today is different.  Today we got to eat as much as we wanted and take as long as we wanted.  It might have been the best meal I've ever had.  SSgt Askew came over and sat with us and laughed.  I asked why he was laughing and he said because he knew we were well trained and then he asked us how he knew.  He then said because we didn't even realize that we were all sitting straight up, heels together, left hand on left knee and right hand shoveling food.  He was right, it had just become second nature.  I felt 6'2 and bulletproof.  It's hard to explain, I just had this sense that no matter what happens in the future I knew I could handle it because I made it through this.  An added bonus this morning was that I got to meet Capt Dale Dye.  He apparently comes to the Warrior Breakfast whenever he's in town to congratulate the new Marines.  

After breakfast we need to begin the preparation to graduate and leave the Island.  It starts right away.  We get back to the squad bay and it is time to clean the rifles which are filthy.  Everyone is exhausted from the 54 hour grind of the Crucible.  The Heavy brings out a solvent in ammo cans to clean the bolt carrier groups.   He tells us that this is how we'll do this from now on.  So we spent hours scrubbing our rifles and never really getting the grime off and there is far easier way to do it.  I wish I could say I'm shocked but it's all just par for the course.  After we clean the rifles, we bigin breaking down the squad bay.  We end the day prepping our uniforms.  When it is finally time to sleep, everyone just passes out.

On Sunday, I decided to go to church.  I haven't gone to church since I've been here.  I didn't particularly care for the guys who "found Jesus" while we were here.  These guys quoted the "yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" lines a little too often for my taste.  I think going to war will be a lot closer to the valley of the shadow of death than boot camp.  Besides, Sunday morning was the only time we had all week to just read letters or write letters, so I took advantage of it.  Considering all of this I found church moving on this Sunday.  I honestly felt the presence of something greater than myself that morning.  I don't know if it was the comradeship of the other Marines, the sense of accomplishment, the relief, God's holy spirit touching me...  I don't know.  I just know that I tears flowed from my eyes and I wasn't sad. 

After church, we gave our rifles a quick cleaning and that's when all Hell broke loose.  Private Blyce (no longer Recruit Blyce) lost his bolt carrier group.  That means he lost the bolt, the cam pin, the firing pin and the bolt carrier.  That means his rifle will not work.  What it also means is that he can't turn his weapon in.  When the Heavy questioned him, he said he didn't know what happened to it.  This guy is literally the gift that keeps on giving.  He left the bolt carrier group in the solvent.  So that was easy enough to find.  Unfortunately for Blyce, he wasn't smart enough to just put his firing pin, cam pin and bolt in his pocket till he found it.  Instead he put the loose pieces into his rifle which fell out. We have swept and cleaned the squad bay twice in the time between cleanings.  The Heavy wanted an explanation.  Blyce who couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat, couldn't give him one.  First he kept saying "This recruit doesn't know, Sir!"  We are Marines now and can say I and Drill Instructors are enlisted so you don't call them Sir!  When the Heavy screamed this at him, Blyce attempted to correct himself by saying "This Marine doesn't know, Sir!"  The Heavy responded to this by sending Blyce flying six feet through the air after an open palm thrust to the chest.  When Blyce got up the Heavy was on top of him and struck him again.  All the while the Heavy yelled "I'M NOT GOING TO JAIL BECAUSE YOU LOST YOUR WEAPON!!! BUT I WILL GO TO JAIL FOR KILLING YOUR DUMB ASS!!!" It never seems to end around here...

Patriot's Day

This blog is the story of my tour of duty in the Marine Corps.  During the four years I was in the Marines, we were attacked on 9/11, there were snipers killing people in Virginia, there were even Anthrax letters sent to Congress.  Those were scary times, but this nation found its way through it.  Yesterday the arm of terror touched Boston MA.  It's almost fitting that this event happened on Patriot's Day.  238 years ago, a group of men answered Paul Revere's famous cry and stood up to the British.  Most of those brave souls were killed that day but from their sacrifice arose a new kind of resolve and a new nation followed.  What happened yesterday will not stand.  Those responsible will be found, they'll be dealt with.  I only hope that justice will be swift.  To the people of the city and state that I love most, I say this, we have been sucker punched and we have been hurt.  One of those killed was the eight year old son of one of my fraternity brothers.  We will rise above this and when all is said and done, we will survive because nobody does this better than a Bostonian.  Keep the faith dear friends.

Semper Fidelis,

Sergeant Shawn P. Connors

United States Marine Corps

The Crucible III

The first day of the Crucible ended with a night march through the woods.  We went up and down hills and in between trees in total darkness.  No maglights or glowsticks or anything.  The only way to keep from getting lost was to keep your hand on the guy in front of you.  We moved fast.  The total distance of the march is three miles. All you could hear was guys tripping over roots and swearing to themselves.  When we finished, everyone is exhausted and covered in sweat.  The guys who are called for fire watch groan loudly because they know they'll only get 3 hours of sleep. There is no time for showers or anything other than taking our boots off and hitting the rack.  Snoring is heard almost immediately and that is impressive considering that the cots have plywood on them and no mattresses.  

Before anyone can get comfortable we are up and at it again.  Day two is hard and long and miserable.  But the end is finally within reach.  As tired as everyone is there is genuine sense of teamwork and helping each other out.  Whether it is simply an encouraging word or picking up a hurting team mates pack or carrying him over your shoulder, nobody is getting dropped now.  There is a fatigued humor setting into the recruits and drill instructors.  Staff Sergeant Askew has been saying for weeks that if any of us are feeling froggy that he'll happily take that recruit into the treeline and whoop his ass. While sitting and eating chow in the woods, Nash says to him with a giant smile on his face, "SSgt, we're in the treeline and I'm feeling a bit froggy?!?"  SSgt Askew's eyebrow goes up Rock style and then gets up and starts toward him as Nash laughs and runs away.  This exchange was unimaginable yesterday. 

We move through the field fire course and the day and night resupply sluggishly but get it accomplished.  As rack time approaches the Senior comes over with a box.  He starts handing out apples.  As we devour them he tells us to take out our cammies with the name tapes, rank insignias and emblems on them.  We get to wear them on the march back to the parade deck.  That may seem like nothing to you, but to us it means that our days as recruits are finally at an end.  Tomorrow morning we will become Marines!!!

We have nine miles left to go when we wake up on Saturday morning.  We stopped twice, once at 3 miles and once at six.  We didn't do cadences during the first six miles.  When we stopped at the six mile mark, I was sitting on my pack and watched the sun light up the Carolina sky with all the pinks, oranges and yellows that burned the image into my head forever.  At that moment I knew that something, call it whatever you want God, a spirit, a guardian angel, doesn't matter, had helped me get here and I realized that no matter what life throws at me from this moment on that I could handle it.  

The last three miles were spent singing cadences and joking.  The funniest exchange of boot camp came on this leg of the hump:

Sgt Cain: "Does anyone have to go to Medical?"

Rct Riddle: "I do Sgt Cain!"

Sgt Cain: "What the F@#$ is the matter with you Riddle? Did you get sand in your pussy?"

Rct Riddle: "No sir! I sewed it up before we left!"

Even the Heavy laughed at that!! 

Once we get back to the parade deck, the six platoons of Golf Company Second Battalion form up around the Iwo Jima Memorial.  The colors are presented.  The Company Commander tells us that the men immortalized in this statue are looking down from heaven and know that their Corps is in good hands: OURS!  The drill instructors hand out EGAs to us and congratulate us.  We are now United States Marines!  The journey to earn the title is complete!! 

The Crucible II

In the afternoon, we move to a field exercise where need to move the entire squad and equipment over a berm and across a wide open area during simulated fire.  A berm is a small hill that may or may not be fortified.  The berm in this case has been landscaped.  Instead of a gradual incline, it has a four foot high wooden wall cut into it. This makes it better for cover but harder to maneuver over the top.  We have been instructed to keep our weapons horizontal to the ground so that when ascend and descend the berm we won't impale ourselves or our team mates on it.  When it was my turn to go ever the berm, I quickly jumped up the wall and low-crawled with my eyes on the deck so as not to expose my face to fire.  I got to the far side and dove over the wall.  I dove right onto one of my team mates VERTICALLY positioned rifle which was barrel up!!! Luckily for me I hit it just under my left eye.  I thought I broke my cheekbone it hurt so much.  I was so incredibly mad at this because it just like the DIs always say, "Your lack of attention to detail and general carelessness will end up getting a fellow Marine killed or seriously wounded!!!"  We moved through the rest of the exercise with incredible slowness because we had to low crawl and drag equipment.  When we reached the objective we were all exhausted, dirty and drenched in sweat.  This is when we got a royal ass-chewing from our DI.  I gotta tell you there is nothing like getting chewed out when you are tired and frustrated and you have just completed a hellish task, especially when the person doing it has with held information that would have made it easier and is pissed that you couldn't figure it out on your own.  Once again I have come to realize that I wouldn't have been able to take this 3 months ago and it is one of the reasons I signed up in the first place, but that is no consolation at the moment. As mad as I was at my team mate who gave me a black eye...  I love him compared to our DI after what he did next.

Our next squad movement was an obstacle course.  Exhaustion is setting in.  The third obstacle was a large black dummy hanging on a six foot post that was six inches thick.  We had to strike the dummy with the butt stock of our rifles.  So you can picture this it would be similar to swinging a sledge hammer or using the rifle like a wrestler uses a chair.  When we got to the dummies, we had to hit them three times.  I guess my first strike didn't impress the DI.  He called me a pussy.  I didn't like that.  My second strike didn't impress him either.  He told me I should go back to my whore of a mother who'll tell me it's alright that I suck.  I hit the dummy so hard that I cracked the post and it fell over as I ran to the next obstacle.  The smug bastard told me it was pathetic that it took me three times to break it.  You really can't win around here.

The Crucible

Nothing has been easy for the recruits of Platoon 2070, Golf Company, Second Battalion MCRD Parris Island.  We are a ragtag group that has been the focal point of every DI in the Company.  We came in second in several of the competitions and last in several others.  We had 130 men in the men in the platoon on Training Day 1.  We now have roughly 78.  Some guys washed out, some tried to kill themselves, some just got hurt and rolled back.  The recruits who are left have forged a solid bond.  We may not like each other, but every man has earned the respect of his peers, for no other reason than we have all lasted in this marathon of madness.  We even survived a hurricane warning that was supposed to force us to evacuate PI before the Crucible.  Nobody was happy about this.  Everybody felt that if we didn't complete the Crucible that somehow we didn't complete the journey.  It seems that fate shines on the foolish.

The Crucible is a 54 hour simulated war where recruits get two meals, march over 40 miles and get a little less than 4 hours of sleep a night (if they are lucky).  The platoons are divided into squads and drill instructors are assigned as group leaders.  My group got a new DI fresh out of DI school as our leader (GREAT!!!!) The Crucible began at 0200 on Thursday morning.  We humped 6 miles to the bivouac site and set our gear.  It's 0600 now.  Then we go to an obstacle course.  Each obstacle is based on a what a Marine did to win a Medal of Honor and the equipment he used.  Civilians in the business or education field will know this activity as a ropes course.  The problem that my group has is that there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians.  Everybody has an opinion and we are all wrong.  We stumble through these obstacles for what seems like an eternity (4 hours) and we discover that most of would die in any of these situations because we lack the ability to improvise and overcome.  We eat a portion of our MRE's for lunch and get back to it.

We need to practice a casualty evac.  There are seven of us and six guys need to carry a wounded man on a stretcher in and out of the woods for a total of six miles.  We think it would be easier if every guy takes a turn on the stretcher and we alternate carrying positions since we have to carry the stretcher on our shoulders.  The smarter way would have been to carry the lightest guy the whole way, but why would we want to do it the smart way?!?!  McGee is the quietest guy in the group, the platoon, and possibly the United States.  I swear to God this kid would point and whisper real loud that we were under attack and once we were all dead would wonder why nobody heard him.  Why am I telling you this?  Well it's because while were marching with McGee on the stretcher and I was on the front right side where his legs were, I suddenly felt water running down my back and leg.  This was particularly peculiar since it was a bright and sunny day.  When I looked back it was running from McGee's boot.  I dropped the front of the stretcher and when I looked at McGee, I realized that he'd pissed his pants!!!  McGee PISSED HIS PANTS!!!  As mad as I was and as grossed out as everyone was McGee's explanation stopped us all.  First he claimed that he thought he could hold it. (WRONG!!!!) Then he claimed he was asking us to stop and everyone ignored him.  I swear if I had the time to kill him we could have completed the exercise for real.  (I found out later that McGee had been wetting his bed at least twice a week at bootcamp) When we got back, nobody told our group leader what had happened because nobody wanted to listen to the story again.

We're only halfway through Day One!!!

The passing of a legend

On Sunday, December 30, 2012 my grandfather Stanton R. Kelley passed away in his sleep.  I don't know quite how to put into words how much he meant to me.  He always made me feel like I was 10 feet tall and indestructible.  He was an eccentric character.  As he got older he could tell stories of WWII and Korea with stunning recall, but had trouble talking about recent events.  He was so proud of being a Marine that I honestly thought his birthday was November 10.  He was equally proud of being a Tufts Jumbo.  He would talk for hours about Marines he knew, or Tufts alumni or guys he knew at the prison.  He was well read and well spoken.  He had his vices and his hangups like we all do, but he was a funny, proud and loving man who will be dearly missed.

I don't like to use the word hero very often, because I think its overuse has cheapened it.  Athletes who play games, actors who play other people, politicians who just don't get it, these are not heroes.  Heroes are those who answer the call to service, who face impossible odds with a steal resolve, who continue to fight when the battle looks lost, who never give up, and when they get knocked down either by life or their own bad choices get up and try again.  Captain Stanton R. Kelley was one of my heroes.  The other is my father.

I joined the Marine Corps in June 1999.  My dad is an Army veteran and I didn't join the Marines to spite him.  I joined the Marines for the challenge and the brotherhood aspect that I knew they could offer.  I graduated from Boot Camp on September 10, 1999.  My grandfather came to Parris Island and I saluted him.  He told me "Welcome to my beloved Corps!" to which I responded, "No you're wrong, it's OUR beloved Corps!"  The salute was cool, but the fact that he came all that way with my Dad, my uncle and my grandmother was huge.  I think of all the stories he told me over the years about battles he'd fought and places he'd been and things he did.  I hope I'm as fortunate to live as long and as a colorful a life as he did... well maybe not quite as colorful ;-)

Captain Stanton R. Kelley, in the proudest tradition of the United States Marine Corps and Naval Service I wish you fair winds and following seas.  Semper Fidelis.

With love, respect and admiration,
Sergeant Shawn P. Connors USMC