OORAH-4-Life and then Some.
Dear Reader:
He held the back of my neck and forced my head over the railing. "LOUDER!", he screamed. " AYE SIR! THIS RECRUIT IS A FATTIE McNASTY!, " I yelled. When my eyes finally met his, I knew two things for sure: First, I had met the yang to my yin. I a mild mannered boy from Maryland, and he the Drill Instructor from the lower regions of Hell. Second, and above all else, I knew without a doubt that I was indeed not at a FATTIE McNASTY. Ask anyone.
For the next 13 weeks of Marine Corps Boot camp this man terrorized me for no reason at all. I received my first black eye from him. ( He called it "Correcting the Problem.") Every time he had duty, I was forced to watch the gear and eat alone during Chow Hall. ( A real travesty to my platoon popularity.) He made me do push ups until I vomited the day after Thanksgiving. Each week, he made me do his laundry which consisted of green t-shirts and Chip and Dale-esque bikini briefs. ( I'm still scarred.) He broke two pairs of my BC glasses during his finger pointing interrogations. ( BC stands for birth control since no one would touch you while wearing them.) He threatened me with death at least 1, 340 times. He made me run faster, jump higher, scream louder than I previously thought was possible.
So as I settled down in my rack for the last time the night before graduation, I was filled with happy thoughts of accomplishment and above all else the thrill of never seeing that demon of a man again. As I slowly drifted off, I suddenly heard the ever so familiar blood curdling scream, " HPG, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE. NOW!" Like a military robot, I jumped from my rack and ran to his dreaded office door. Before I could raise my hand to knock, the door suddenly opened.
The demon sat behind his desk and motioned for me to shut the door. I knew that this was my last moment on Earth. He dementedly had waited until the end of this wonderfully hellish ride to finally strangle me as he had threatened so many times before. I sat there motionless. As he lowered his hands beneath the desk, I closed my eyes to await the impact of his fist. I waited. And waited. After a few moments, I opened my eyes and found a Kit Kat bar on the desk in front of me. I looked to his face and he sat there smiling. " Go ahead. You've earned it.", he grinned. Before, I could think about it I had melted chocolate dripping from my hands. As I gobbled the last bits of the bar, I scarily looked to him. " You are one tough S.O.B.! I really gave you the shit for no reason and you kept up. Not bad, Marine. I couldn't be more prouder than if you were my son" he said. For the next few minutes, we talked and laughed about the horrors of boot camp. And during the next 4 years of active duty, I kept in touch with the man who ultimately changed my life for the better.
At the end of this week my total commitment to the Marine Corps officially ends and I become a full fledged civilian. Bittersweet doesn't begin to describe this feeling. Part of me is excited to have completed this venture successfully, while the other wishes that I'd receive a letter to be called back to duty. I always had dreams of being a Combat Instructor. What? Some people create art through paint, my medium happens to be a machine gun. Go figure.
Every fellow Marine that I encountered during this tour, I cannot thank you enough for opening my eyes and keeping me grounded. You will forever be my brothers and sisters. Little Debbie, my M-16, thank you for sticking by me even after the countless times that my BC's fogged up and I fell flat on my face. And finally, Parris Island, you tricked me with your bad weather and sand fleas. The truth of the matter is that I fought to get off you, and once I left I've been fighting to get back. You will always be home to me.
One final: OORAH!!!!!!! U.S.M.C. (Uncle Sam's Misguided Children)!!!!!!!
Best,
HPG
He held the back of my neck and forced my head over the railing. "LOUDER!", he screamed. " AYE SIR! THIS RECRUIT IS A FATTIE McNASTY!, " I yelled. When my eyes finally met his, I knew two things for sure: First, I had met the yang to my yin. I a mild mannered boy from Maryland, and he the Drill Instructor from the lower regions of Hell. Second, and above all else, I knew without a doubt that I was indeed not at a FATTIE McNASTY. Ask anyone.
For the next 13 weeks of Marine Corps Boot camp this man terrorized me for no reason at all. I received my first black eye from him. ( He called it "Correcting the Problem.") Every time he had duty, I was forced to watch the gear and eat alone during Chow Hall. ( A real travesty to my platoon popularity.) He made me do push ups until I vomited the day after Thanksgiving. Each week, he made me do his laundry which consisted of green t-shirts and Chip and Dale-esque bikini briefs. ( I'm still scarred.) He broke two pairs of my BC glasses during his finger pointing interrogations. ( BC stands for birth control since no one would touch you while wearing them.) He threatened me with death at least 1, 340 times. He made me run faster, jump higher, scream louder than I previously thought was possible.
So as I settled down in my rack for the last time the night before graduation, I was filled with happy thoughts of accomplishment and above all else the thrill of never seeing that demon of a man again. As I slowly drifted off, I suddenly heard the ever so familiar blood curdling scream, " HPG, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE. NOW!" Like a military robot, I jumped from my rack and ran to his dreaded office door. Before I could raise my hand to knock, the door suddenly opened.
The demon sat behind his desk and motioned for me to shut the door. I knew that this was my last moment on Earth. He dementedly had waited until the end of this wonderfully hellish ride to finally strangle me as he had threatened so many times before. I sat there motionless. As he lowered his hands beneath the desk, I closed my eyes to await the impact of his fist. I waited. And waited. After a few moments, I opened my eyes and found a Kit Kat bar on the desk in front of me. I looked to his face and he sat there smiling. " Go ahead. You've earned it.", he grinned. Before, I could think about it I had melted chocolate dripping from my hands. As I gobbled the last bits of the bar, I scarily looked to him. " You are one tough S.O.B.! I really gave you the shit for no reason and you kept up. Not bad, Marine. I couldn't be more prouder than if you were my son" he said. For the next few minutes, we talked and laughed about the horrors of boot camp. And during the next 4 years of active duty, I kept in touch with the man who ultimately changed my life for the better.
At the end of this week my total commitment to the Marine Corps officially ends and I become a full fledged civilian. Bittersweet doesn't begin to describe this feeling. Part of me is excited to have completed this venture successfully, while the other wishes that I'd receive a letter to be called back to duty. I always had dreams of being a Combat Instructor. What? Some people create art through paint, my medium happens to be a machine gun. Go figure.
Every fellow Marine that I encountered during this tour, I cannot thank you enough for opening my eyes and keeping me grounded. You will forever be my brothers and sisters. Little Debbie, my M-16, thank you for sticking by me even after the countless times that my BC's fogged up and I fell flat on my face. And finally, Parris Island, you tricked me with your bad weather and sand fleas. The truth of the matter is that I fought to get off you, and once I left I've been fighting to get back. You will always be home to me.
One final: OORAH!!!!!!! U.S.M.C. (Uncle Sam's Misguided Children)!!!!!!!
Best,
HPG
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