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.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
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 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!!!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
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
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.
Sergeant Shawn P. Connors USMC
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