I went to boot camp July 8, 2008. For the first week I thought I'd made the dumbest mistake of my life. The first week, before any training actually started, is still the hardest one for me. Virtually no sleep, don't know how to do anything so we're getting yelled at for being stupid and there's a lot of sitting around waiting to get screened by irritated Navy medical people and then you get a bicillin injection that's lovingly known as the peanut butter shot because it's about the consistency of JIF and it goes right into your butt cheek. You have to massage it in otherwise it feels like there's a goddamn gerbil rummaging around in there for the rest of the day.
After the first week I didn't even get to go to training immediately. My fat ass couldn't run fast enough so I got sent to the Physical Conditioning Platoon. Pork Chop Platoon. Professional Cleaning Platoon. A couple weeks later I was dropped to a Medical Rehabilitation Platoon due to the tendons and bursa sacs in my ankles being inflamed. My ankles were the size of tangerines and I was on crutches for a month.
During that time I showed a bit of intelligence and maturity (being that I was a solid 6-8 years older than most of the other recruits and I'm surrounded by people who joined the Marines so being the smartest one there is like being the fastest turtle on the Galapagos) so it became my responsibility to help the drill instructors with their paperwork. I got so good at my job that I was at times asked to teach other drill instructors from other companies how to manage their recruit's records in the computer system.
This also led to me being chosen for the same job when I finally healed up and went back into training. The senior drill instructor from MRP was friends with a senior in the company I was going to so they pen fucked the pickup paperwork and I was hand selected for my platoon. I already had two months on depot and knew how things worked. The rest of boot camp was easier for me in some ways, harder in others. I rarely got more than four hours of sleep for the next three months and went more than a couple nights without sleeping at all. While everyone went to classes that I didn't need because I read the handbook while I was broken, I was on my SDI's computer - and eventually in the company office on my 1st Sergeant and Company Commander's computers - doing administrative tasks for them.
Oh and I didn't have to write letters anymore because I figured out how to get emails out to Sarah.
Graduated December 5th, 2008. Meritoriously promoted to Private First Class due to my work for the company and the platoon. Went home for ten days, reported to Camp Pendleton for the School of Infantry. Was told that no training was picking up until the end of the year and to request recruiter's assistance to go home for Christmas. Did so at the cost of a $700 plane ticket home which I might still get reimbursed for but it's doubtful.
Also, it should be noted that my injury meant I lost my coveted opportunity to go the scout/sniper route. I may still give MARSOC a shot later if I can't commission into aviation.
After Christmas, went back to SOI for MCT - combat training that all Marines go through regardless of job; it's half as long as what the grunts do but we learn most of the same things. Patrolling, combat marksmanship, entry/vehicle control points, detainee handling, defensive position, assaults, night firing and shooting all the various weapons available to the average infantryman. Mix in a bunch of 3-10 mile hikes with 80-100 pound packs, classes on situational awareness and range estimation blah blah blah, and we can take secretaries, mechanics, warehouse clerks to supplement the grunts in virtually any situation.
Unfortunately I had to wait around a few weeks to do that because you can't train with civilian glasses and I had lost my military issued glasses. Once they arrived I had to wait for another company to pick up and once it did I spent the next month hiking and shooting and defending and assaulting and eating MREs and shooting and learning and more shooting and being cold and sweating off five pounds a day and shooting and yelling at pretend-durka durkas and I even got to dig a fighting hole. You haven't truly been pissed off at the world until you've dug a six foot hole with an eight inch shovel at the top of a mountain after a ten mile hike and then slept in it in 30 degree weather.
At the end I was chosen to represent the platoon against the other three in the company for the honor graduate and took it without a problem. Got a pretty little plaque. There was much rejoicing.
Changed my MOS from aircraft recovery to aviation ops and instead of heading to Pensacola I found myself at Naval Air Station East Bumblefuck, Mississippi. Couple weeks of waiting for a class to pick up and it finally did. I excelled here as well. Got the high GPA for the class, damn near met the course record. Had nothing to do but homework, read and hit the gym. I also managed to get outstanding proficiency and conduct marks (pro/con marks work like this: proficiency is how a Marine performs in his job - in this case, as a student - and conduct is the overall performance as a squared away Marine. they count toward future promotions and such. 4.0 to 4.4 is average, 4.4 to 4.6 is excellent and 4.7-4.9 is outstanding).
4.9/4.7
Due to all this, I get another meritorious promotion to Lance Corporal when we graduate next Tuesday. Later that afternoon I get on a plane back to Chicago. Wednesday I report into my unit at Naval Station Great Lakes. I'll be working in a tactical command center, a building that requires a secret security clearance just to walk through the door. For a while I'll just be doing more training, sometimes going to other air stations or bases around the country - here's hoping for Kaneohe Bay
- for short periods of time. The unit isn't fully operational and undeployable until then. No idea when that'll happen.
Another perk: three of the students in my class were sergeants that were lat moving to other fields. Two of them are going to the same unit I am, one of those will actually be my new boss so I got to make a good impression on her for a couple months. Although this also means that for the past week my name's been spread around a squadron that has an inordinate amount of full bird colonels, buck colonels and majors. So, high expectations. But I'm older than most of the people in my rank level so it should bode well for me.
That's the story so far. When I get home I'll be inactive until the unit is ready for more bodies or until I TAD to more training. Still trying to get my 3-mile time down to 20 minutes but it's a bitch. Especially when you can't bring an iPod.
I'll be going to school on as much of Uncle Sam's dime as possible and preparing a package for a commissioning program as soon as I can. There's no telling when the unit will deploy but I can always be loaned out to a tactical squadron heading out to a carrier or, more likely, Afghanistan.
And I can still put a round smack in the middle of a Hajji's chest at 500 yards with iron sights on an M16.
After the first week I didn't even get to go to training immediately. My fat ass couldn't run fast enough so I got sent to the Physical Conditioning Platoon. Pork Chop Platoon. Professional Cleaning Platoon. A couple weeks later I was dropped to a Medical Rehabilitation Platoon due to the tendons and bursa sacs in my ankles being inflamed. My ankles were the size of tangerines and I was on crutches for a month.
During that time I showed a bit of intelligence and maturity (being that I was a solid 6-8 years older than most of the other recruits and I'm surrounded by people who joined the Marines so being the smartest one there is like being the fastest turtle on the Galapagos) so it became my responsibility to help the drill instructors with their paperwork. I got so good at my job that I was at times asked to teach other drill instructors from other companies how to manage their recruit's records in the computer system.
This also led to me being chosen for the same job when I finally healed up and went back into training. The senior drill instructor from MRP was friends with a senior in the company I was going to so they pen fucked the pickup paperwork and I was hand selected for my platoon. I already had two months on depot and knew how things worked. The rest of boot camp was easier for me in some ways, harder in others. I rarely got more than four hours of sleep for the next three months and went more than a couple nights without sleeping at all. While everyone went to classes that I didn't need because I read the handbook while I was broken, I was on my SDI's computer - and eventually in the company office on my 1st Sergeant and Company Commander's computers - doing administrative tasks for them.
Oh and I didn't have to write letters anymore because I figured out how to get emails out to Sarah.
Graduated December 5th, 2008. Meritoriously promoted to Private First Class due to my work for the company and the platoon. Went home for ten days, reported to Camp Pendleton for the School of Infantry. Was told that no training was picking up until the end of the year and to request recruiter's assistance to go home for Christmas. Did so at the cost of a $700 plane ticket home which I might still get reimbursed for but it's doubtful.
Also, it should be noted that my injury meant I lost my coveted opportunity to go the scout/sniper route. I may still give MARSOC a shot later if I can't commission into aviation.
After Christmas, went back to SOI for MCT - combat training that all Marines go through regardless of job; it's half as long as what the grunts do but we learn most of the same things. Patrolling, combat marksmanship, entry/vehicle control points, detainee handling, defensive position, assaults, night firing and shooting all the various weapons available to the average infantryman. Mix in a bunch of 3-10 mile hikes with 80-100 pound packs, classes on situational awareness and range estimation blah blah blah, and we can take secretaries, mechanics, warehouse clerks to supplement the grunts in virtually any situation.
Unfortunately I had to wait around a few weeks to do that because you can't train with civilian glasses and I had lost my military issued glasses. Once they arrived I had to wait for another company to pick up and once it did I spent the next month hiking and shooting and defending and assaulting and eating MREs and shooting and learning and more shooting and being cold and sweating off five pounds a day and shooting and yelling at pretend-durka durkas and I even got to dig a fighting hole. You haven't truly been pissed off at the world until you've dug a six foot hole with an eight inch shovel at the top of a mountain after a ten mile hike and then slept in it in 30 degree weather.
At the end I was chosen to represent the platoon against the other three in the company for the honor graduate and took it without a problem. Got a pretty little plaque. There was much rejoicing.
Changed my MOS from aircraft recovery to aviation ops and instead of heading to Pensacola I found myself at Naval Air Station East Bumblefuck, Mississippi. Couple weeks of waiting for a class to pick up and it finally did. I excelled here as well. Got the high GPA for the class, damn near met the course record. Had nothing to do but homework, read and hit the gym. I also managed to get outstanding proficiency and conduct marks (pro/con marks work like this: proficiency is how a Marine performs in his job - in this case, as a student - and conduct is the overall performance as a squared away Marine. they count toward future promotions and such. 4.0 to 4.4 is average, 4.4 to 4.6 is excellent and 4.7-4.9 is outstanding).
4.9/4.7
Due to all this, I get another meritorious promotion to Lance Corporal when we graduate next Tuesday. Later that afternoon I get on a plane back to Chicago. Wednesday I report into my unit at Naval Station Great Lakes. I'll be working in a tactical command center, a building that requires a secret security clearance just to walk through the door. For a while I'll just be doing more training, sometimes going to other air stations or bases around the country - here's hoping for Kaneohe Bay
- for short periods of time. The unit isn't fully operational and undeployable until then. No idea when that'll happen.Another perk: three of the students in my class were sergeants that were lat moving to other fields. Two of them are going to the same unit I am, one of those will actually be my new boss so I got to make a good impression on her for a couple months. Although this also means that for the past week my name's been spread around a squadron that has an inordinate amount of full bird colonels, buck colonels and majors. So, high expectations. But I'm older than most of the people in my rank level so it should bode well for me.
That's the story so far. When I get home I'll be inactive until the unit is ready for more bodies or until I TAD to more training. Still trying to get my 3-mile time down to 20 minutes but it's a bitch. Especially when you can't bring an iPod.
I'll be going to school on as much of Uncle Sam's dime as possible and preparing a package for a commissioning program as soon as I can. There's no telling when the unit will deploy but I can always be loaned out to a tactical squadron heading out to a carrier or, more likely, Afghanistan.And I can still put a round smack in the middle of a Hajji's chest at 500 yards with iron sights on an M16.
Congrats to you good sir and all that you are doing.
