Even when you win, you lose!

I swear that this place is designed to screw you over.  Thirteen weeks is a long time but considering all the stuff that needs to be crammed in, it might be too short.  Swim qual alone could take two or three weeks.  Instead, they cram an inspection in that week as well.  Everyone needs to get through the initial swim qualification.  Whether that takes one day or five is insignificant.  Combat Water Survival Qualification takes five days.  So here is part of the mind fuck that is Marine Corps Basic Training.  The DIs love to tell us that every Marine is a rifleman, every Marine needs to know everything there is to know about basic infantry skills.  If a Marine can't swim, he needs to take five days to learn.  However, if you know how to swim then get to the pool get through Day 1 and worry about getting the other four days done once you get to your unit.  Oh and by the way, the platoon gets points (yes points, like the friggin houses at Hogwarts) for how many recruits pass all five levels.  The DIs go postal whenever somebody succeeds in the pool and has to go back the following day, but go equally postal when somebody comes back with a failure.  I was a lifeguard for three years before I joined the Marines.  I grew up going to a lake every summer and swimming everyday.  My uncle taught me to swim by throwing me off the dock without a lifejacket on when I barely old enough to walk for christ sake.  The one thing I knew I wouldn't have a lot of trouble with here was the pool.  So after being starved for the last month and not seeming able to do anything except stutter when asked a simple question, I finally got to shine.  I was the only recruit in Platoon 2070 to get CWSQ 5.  I didn't realize that I inadvertently screwed myself over by doing well in the pool.  The rest of the platoon spent most of the week prepping there uniforms and cleaning their rifles.  I didn't have the same amount of time to clean mine, and you can't unlock your rifle at just any given time.  The DIs told us that when the Inspector asks how long we cleaned our rifles we were to answer "This recruit cleans his rifle for one hour every day, Sir!"  The screws in the buttstock of my rifle had sand in them.  I knew it. My squad leader knew it.  My DIs knew it.  The Inspector asked me why my rifle was dirty?  How long did I spend cleaning it each day?  I answered the way I was ordered to.  The Inspector failed me.  There were six failures in the platoon for that inspection.  Each of us got quarterdecked for a half hour for our unsatisfactory performance.  My personal favorite part of the quarterdecking was Sgt Smith repeatedly asking me if I enjoyed my leisurely week at the pool?  Ya you stupid jackass!!  Of course I did!!  Especially the part where the Instructor jumped on my back and tried to drown me!!!   I guess Gryffindor gets no points today!!!!

Combat Water Survival

Every time I think that I've officially heard the dumbest f@#$ing question imaginable, one of these sons of bitches goes above and beyond the limits of rational thought and delivers a gem.  We are at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island South Carolina.  We are not at boot for the Army or the Air Force.  The Marine Corps fights on land, in the air and in the WATER.  The freaking Marines Hymn states "we will fight our country's battles in the air, on land and sea!"  So maybe somebody else can explain why one of the guys in the platoon asked this question,"Why do we have to pass a swim qual?!? My recruiter never said anything about going in the water!"  How the hell did this guy graduate from high school?  How the hell did this guy pass the ASVAB??  How the hell did somebody think that giving this imbecile a gun was a good idea?!?!

Before I came down here I thought that I was pretty smart and reasonably well travelled.  It never occurred to me before this week that a majority of young black men can't swim.  I am admitting my own ignorance here and I'm not trying to lump anyone into a stereotype.  Almost all the black recruits in Platoon 2070 failed swim qual.  I only mention this because they excel in all the other physical activities that we get forced to do; running, pull-ups, crunches, obstacles, pugil sticks..  you name it they are awesome at it.  Now, to be fair I should mention that we aren't talking about simple swimming.  I am talking about swimming in fatigues and boots, so it's not easy.  There is also a jump into the deep end of a two meter platform with a band around your arms and legs.  One recruit started to cry and scream at the top of his lungs on the platform because he was so scared.  This is where I don't understand the DIs.  This kid is terrified and screaming..  so what does the DI?  If you guessed scream at him that he is miserable, good for nothing, waste of air.  Now that is a reasonable reaction.  

History

Have you heard the expression "Beat it into your head"?  You're probably thinking that I'm about to describe one of my fellow recruits getting beaten down, and if that's the case then in this particular case you would be mistaken.  What I'm referring to is the idea that you can learn something by putting a beat to it and repeating it over and over.  Whenever we go anywhere, we march in four columns to the cadence of one of the DIs.  The cadence is a simple one, usually "Left, Right, Left, Right, Left, Right, Left."  Any subsequent command will always come after the last 'Left'.  But this is the standard beat.  After we start marching, the DI guiding the platoon will say "Echo On!!!" and the entire platoon will repeat "Echo On!!!"  From this point the platoon will repeat everything the DI says until he says "Echo Off!!!"  This is how the DIs beat facts into our heads.  For example, the DI says "The five major battles of World War Two are", the platoon will repeat this. Then he says "Key word B.I.G.O.T.", the platoon repeats.  He finishes with "Bougainville, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, Okinawa, Tarawa", the platoon repeats.  In three sentences the platoon has just learned that the Marine Corps five major battles of WWII are Bougainville, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, Okinawa, and Tarawa.  Does it matter that this keyword has the battles out of sequence, no.  This gets 'beaten' into the head due to it's simplicity and repetition.

That is one way that we learn the history of the Marine Corps.  The other way is to sit in giant lecture halls and have actual classes about USMC History.  It has occurred to me sitting through these that the Marine Corps takes more pride in it's history than any other group anywhere.  It also occurs to me that they get some of the most eccentric SNCOs on the planet to teach it.  We learned about one of the two two-time Congressional Medal of Honor winners in Marine Corps history.  He received his first Medal of Honor in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion for singlehandedly defending his position against repeated attacks and inflicted casualties of around 200 on the attacking Boxers.  At the Battle of Belleau during WWI he is credited with yelling to his men "C'mon, you sons of bitches! Do you want to live forever?!?!"  You may have heard that quote before in a movie or TV show, but now you know that a Marine coined it.  This is the kind of thing I mean when I say that nobody takes more pride in their history.  The History classes are usually taught by the same Staff Sergeant.  What makes him unique is that after he tells us some fact about an individual or unit that won a battle against seemingly insurmountable odds he'll say, "That's pretty GODDAMN MOTIVATING, is IT not?!?"  I have written this exactly how he says it with the capitalized words being the ones he put emphasis on.  He's a character for sure.

These classes are a welcome change of pace to our day.  They are held inside, in an air conditioned auditorium.  All we have to do is sit there, listen and stay awake.  That's it!!  Now that sounds pretty easy doesn't it?  For some of these clowns this is too much to ask.  On average at least 10 guys will fall asleep, another 10 will get caught talking, and inevitably the whole platoon will get smoked after the class.

All that silliness aside, I heard something fascinating in one class this week.  The instructor was talking about the changes in warfare and how much the world has changed in the last ten years.  He told us "The next war that the United States will get into will be a direct result of an attack on American soil and that it will happen in the next five years!"  I heard this and thought "Holy SH@# how the hell do they know this?!? And then I got scared because I looked around the room and realized that these stupid sons of bitches sitting all around are going to the ones fighting it?!?!  God help us!

FINALLY!!!

They say that revenge is a dish best served cold.  I shed a tear this morning, but it was a tear of joy and relief.  Finally, the vicious, mass murdering, evil bastard who masterminded 9/11/01, Osama bin Laden is dead. For so many reasons this changes things for the world.  A zealot of evil and a demagogue of hate is dead.  There will be no more audio tapes.  There will be no more speculating about his possible whereabouts.  There will be no more doubting American resolve.  In the wake of Vietnam, there has a been a standing doctrine from enemies of America that if you can make the fight last long enough and kill enough Americans that America will lose its nerve.  No matter how long it takes, justice will be done.  I'm not foolish enough to believe that this will end the war on terror or future wars.  As long as there are people on this planet there will be intolerance, envy, hatred, violence and war.  However that doesn't mean that it's not okay to take a minute to celebrate and breathe a sigh of relief when a giant stain on humanity is removed.

Fifty years ago, President John F. Kennedy proclaimed, "Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans -- born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage, and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world. Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty.  This much we pledge -- and more."

With joy and relief I salute the men and women of the United States Armed Forces, all our veterans, the intelligence community, President Barrack Obama and former President George W. Bush, and the American people.  You have reconfirmed to the world that we will pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty.  Now let's turn the page.

Osama, I sincerely hope that you enjoy Hell.

Nothing is off limits

Remember in kindergarten when the teachers and our parents used to say "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me"?  That is an absolute crock of steaming horse manure and Drill Instructor school teaches people how to say the most cutting and evil things.  Most of the time they can do it without cussing.  Nothing is off limits to a DI:  How you look, act, talk, eat;  Where you're from;  Who your parents are;  What race or nationality you are;  Why you joined the Marines.  All these things are on the table and the results can be comically cruel.

My platoon has a Russian kid named Andrei Chernyshev.  He has a thick accent.  I'm talking about a spy movie thick accent and English is not his first language.  Throw in the fact that we aren't allowed to speak in the first person lets the jokes write themselves when it comes to his interactions with the DIs.  The Senior, The Heavy, Smith and Cain either can't pronounce his last name or purposely don't.  Every time Chernyshev tries to ask or answer a question, they cut him off.  He has been called Chernobyl, Moscow, Siberia, Cherry Blossom, Cherny-whatever, Commie, Rusky, KGB and my personal favorite, Sputnik.  The Heavy stood in front of him and started asking him about his family.  His parents are immigrants.  Andrei has four brothers.  It turns out that one is in the Army, one is in the Navy, one is in the Air Force and one is in the Coast Guard.  Upon hearing this, the Heavy accused him of being a spy and ordered him onto the quarter deck!

We have a set of identical twin brothers, Alex and Justin Wilhelmsen.  They are rack mates.  They stand right next to each other on line.  The DIs mispronounce their names:  Wilshammer, Windjammer, Wisenheimer.  They've called them Thing 1 and Thing 2.  They've asked each of them which one is the smart one and quarter decked them both no matter how they answer.  They've accused them of using telepathy and quarter decked them for that.  The Heavy stood in front of one and asked him if twins could feel each other's pain?  He decided to do an experiment.  He punched him in the chest and asked his brother if he felt it.  When the other one said no, he hit him again and asked again.  This happened about five times before his brother finally said he felt it.  Then the Heavy simply moved over and began the experiment again with the other one.  The DIs would send one to the quarter deck and yell "Take your idiot brother with you!"

One of the squad leaders is named David Umoren.  Now in case you don't see the comic aspect of this perhaps I should explain how his name is pronounced.  I sounds exactly how it looks phonetically, or like you moron.  I can only imagine how the DIs felt when they saw his name on the roster.  I mean this is like Barry Bonds playing bar league softball.  It's just plain unfair.  Add that to the fact that he is from the Caribbean and has an accent, well I think you get the idea.  Another recruit's name is Allan Gay.  Another grapefruit pitch.  Thomas Berger.  How many variations of that name do you think you can list?  Samuel Silin.  One of his many nicknames was Silly, but for some reason whenever they call him that it never seemed funny.

Blending in is not really an option.  Somehow, someway, they seem to find something on each of us.  It's only a matter of what it is and when.  There's a blue light special in the insult department and it's on all our gear lists.

Games

This entire experience is one giant mind game.  Drill Instructors have a seemingly endless array of games.  Everything is designed to get us to move faster, listen better, and work as a collective.  The games only start when someone screws up.  Who exactly can one screw a simple instruction like turn to your right??  This friggin platoon somehow figures out a way.  It's almost unbelievable that we can't do anything right. When we first got here I really thought that the DIs were just psychos.  They scream all the time and they always want more.  They snap at you even when you do it right.  I got up in the middle of the night to make a head call.  The squad bay is really dark and on my way to the head I didn't see Sgt Cain until I was about to pass him.  I said "Bye your leave, good evening Sir" and attempted to keep walking.  I should have known better.  "Oh hell no" was his reply, "Get back and try again."  Just so you know get back means go all the way back to my rack and then walk up and do it properly.  I didn't roll my eyes when he said it, but he cussed me out anyway "Good to Connors, you nasty thing lose your bearing too!  You owe me on the quarterdeck in the morning!  Get out of my sight!"  I was almost relieved to be able to go the head and just hoped that Cain would forget about the quarter decking in the morning.

When we move to slowly we hear "Oh?!?  Good to go?!? You want to move slow?!?" and then the bizarre task comes.  What constitutes a bizarre task?  Here is a list of notables:

• get on line with two sheets and a blanket
• fix your racks now (after you just stripped it)
• get to the rear of the squad bay
• get to the front of the squad bay
• get to the port side
• get to the starboard side
• get on line with a footlocker
• dump out your footlocker
• put everything back in your footlocker
• dump out your footlockers in the center now
• put everything back in your footlocker (good luck getting your stuff back)
• get into your PT gear
• put your uniforms on
• form a school circle
• get out to the street
• get back to the squad bay
• get into the pit

There are a lot more of these.  If you don't think that this sounds bad, you're right.  You're right because listing them doesn't include a DI screaming at you.  The games begin when the DI tells you to do this and then decides we aren't moving fast enough.  Get on line becomes get on line with two sheets and a blanket, which then becomes make your racks now...  "10, 9, 8, 3, 2, 1 You're done."  Everything always started with "Good to go, you want to move slow?" Then the instruction. Then the countdown.  No matter how fast we did it, we didn't do it fast enough.

The DIs have another set of games.  These are punishments.  We aren't allowed to say I.  We have to refer to ourselves in the third person as "This Recruit."  One recruit called himself I and got the following punishment; He had to stand at the POA and point at his eyeball and shout "Eye!" and then at his chest and shout "Recruit!" repeatedly for an hour.  Another time a recruit fell asleep during a class, so the DI chewed him out asking how he'd feel if he fell asleep on guard duty and got the platoon killed?  Then to emphasize the point he gave eight hours of fire watch and made him stand at the POA holding a pen in his finger tips with his arm straight out.  If he lowered his arm or dropped the pen he had to report to the DI Hut and announce that he had killed the entire platoon.  This kind of thing can happen at any time for any reason and I think I'm becoming paranoid.

Flash forward

Today is March 20, 2011.  Eight years ago today Operation Iraqi Freedom started.  I don't know how I feel about this.  It doesn't seem possible that it's been eight years.  My birthday is March 18.  I turned 27 two days before OIF began.  To be completely honest I didn't think I was going to turn 28.  War in any form is a scary thing, there is nothing glitzy or glamorous about it. People die and get hurt.  I knew all the Marines in MAG-39 who were killed.  I saw the pictures on the news of guys I went to Parris Island with who were killed.  I remember having chow with my friend Otis and sitting and talking to a guy Otis was friends with.  The next day he was killed.  Just one of the many to the folks back home who disagree with why we came to Iraq, but a real face to me.  Life became very simple for us.  Get up in the morning, check your boots for scorpions, go to the head and clean up, go to chow, go to MAG HQ work for 20 hours, go back to the tent, try not to fall asleep untying your boots, pass out...  repeat.  All the while you are doing two things:  hoping you don't die and trying not to think about home.  I know that I chose to join the Marine Corps.  I didn't have to do this.  We were trained to be hard as nails and that the most important thing was the mission.  We were trained to improvise, adapt and overcome.  We were trained to never give up and never surrender.  I never broke a bone or got shot or hit by shrapnel from a IED.  I wasn't deployed multiple times for over a year at a time.   I do have scars.  Sometimes it's very hard to keep my mind focused or my emotions in check.  I can get overly sensitive or insanely angry for no reason.  This happens to a lot of veterans.  The saying goes that time heals all wounds.  I've come to the conclusion that just isn't true.  Some events are so earth shattering, so traumatic, so scary that you will never be able to let them go and you will never feel the same again.  I have developed a bizarre coping mechanism, I focus my rage and aggression on the small and insignificant rather than real issues.  You could say that I sweat the small stuff in order to deal with the big stuff.

I have been telling the story of The Misguided Children which began almost twelve years ago in a real time format, but today I wanted to pause and remember the 4,439 brave men and women who have died in Iraq and the over 300,000 who survived but have come home scarred in one way or another.  All gave some, some gave all.  Semper Fidelis.