Cool

LOL

Ft Benning, Harmony Church, 1969. Draftees. had a guy named Whiteside who was incapable of doing PT. He moved like a disjointed scarecrow. Before you could get in the mess hall you had to do push ups, setups, run/dodge/jump, low crawl, and monkey bars. This was just to get in the line. Then if you screwed up name/rank/service #/ RA/AR/NG/ all while being busted by DIs you had to do it all over again after low crawling around the mess hall a couple of times. I don't ever remember this guy getting to eat. Also had the fat boy squad. After a few days all the fat boys were selected. Fat boys never walked. Fat boys never were allowed to rest. Fat boys got salad only and after everyone else had eaten. fat boys weren't fat too long.

Here weapon. ....Here weapon. ....lol

Ya, they sent me straight to AIT, and promoted me to E5 after 6 months.

Yeah I almost walled out of MEPS because they didn't have the MOS I wanted. I got a better one instead....a 67T/15T Blackhawk mechanic/crew chief.

One last one....

We were allowed to put pictures up in our locker. I had a picture of my girlfriend. During inspection one of my DS asks, "Is that your girlfriend?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant"

"Do you love her?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant"

With a straight face he says, "Too bad, because there's no way in hell she's going to stick around waiting for you. The sooner you realize that, the better" and he walks off.

Thanks for the encouragement, Drill Sergeant.

It was even funnier when we were doing our 12 mile ruck (final one.) and our reward nearing the barracks was seeing the dropout platoon walk by. Now, The DS's had kicked Stamper out about two months before, so he had thought he was going home in about a week.

When we saw him sulking with the rest of the dropouts, I basically yelled at him. "How does it feel, to know that I'm graduating and your still stuck here?" Our Senior Drill Sergeant laughed his ass off, along with the rest of the platoon.

Had two kids attempt suicide at Ft. Jackson, 2004.

One with Windex . . . . . . the other with ibuprofen (as I understand it the amount of IB needed to OD is ridiculously large).

Had another kid go AWOL.  It was about two hours before anybody noticed, he slipped out as we left for PT, changed his clothes, made it eight miles through dense forest to the first convenience store off post.

Where he bought himself a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  But . . . the lady behind the counter had already had a visit from the DS not five minutes before.  She made the call as soon as he hit the door.

About the time he took the first puff the DS jumped out of his car and knocked the stuffing out of this kid.

That was the first of 3 times that jackass went AWOL.

There was a guy who came through with us who was prior service, but he had been out about 7 years so they made him repeat BCT.  He was squared away and knew which direction was up.  Good man.

During pugil sticks . . . I broke his hand.  In the end he spent 12 weeks in the PTRP and recycled.  I still feel like crap about that.

Right out of the Books and Movies...He had to yell those two words for an Awfully long time.

One more.

This really wasn't this funny unless you were there. But my platoon drill sergeants fucked with me in a more light heated way (for a drill Sargent). I could speak English, could read & write, and do basic math. So I was a shining star.

I was standing in the chow line at parade rest. I was next guy to pick up a tray. The drill Sargent walked up and put the brim of his hat on my forehead with his face about two inches away from mine.  He reached around behind himself without moving his face, picked up a piece of fried chicken and started eating it it while smacking his greasy lips. I couldn't help myself and busted up laughing. He didn't get pissed and just kept asking me what was so funny.

Oh and then there was the time I was on guard duty by myself out in the middle of nowhere. I was supposed to be there for two hours and I kept thinking two hours must have gone by. Then the sun started coming up. I was supposed to have been relieved at 0200.
I got picked up and got back and fell into formation. The drill Sargent is standing in front of the formation and he says, " hey sweet pants, come up here". And I realize that the reason I was out there all night is because the guy who was supposed to wake them up to change guards was found in the morning in a sleeping bag asleep with a ANOTHER DUDE.
The DS went off on this guy for a half hour in front of the formation about being a homo.
We never saw him again.

These stories are really funny, hopefully I have some good ones after I finish Basic!

Ft. Jackson, summer 1985

We had a black female Drill Sgt. in the company that could do fucking situps FOREVER!

I HATE fucking situps.

She was scary.  "What da HELL do you thin you doin', PRI-VATE!"

You will.
No choice.

Damn

LOL

I bet they weren't lol

Nice

That's the same advice my father gave me when I left for basic. He's a former Army MP and told me to never get married while I was in. Good advice.....

Guaranteed!  Basic is so traumatic that you have no choice in the matter.  I have cousins who were married to Officers before I went in.  I was warned that Basic is the most grueling time in the military that isn't actual combat.  They were right!

Another thought: There were some National Guardsmen who, come Saturday Morning, had a separate Drills just for them.  They were basically learning Riot Control and such.  You keep hearing stories about bunks torn apart by the Drill Sergeants in books and movies.  For the most part that doesn't happen in real life.  Except for that One Saturday.  Everybody's bunk is made nice and neat...We come back to our barracks room (8 per room) and the National Guardsman bunk was torn apart.  Everybody else's bunk was okay.  I can understand any of his roommates, but his?  It didn't make sense.

I spent about a year training up with my states National Guard unit.  After about a year in the sandbox as an 11B I passed out one day and was rushed to the hospital.  Turns out I had a heart condition that while I knew about it, it never really caused me any issues.  Matter of fact I was a stud athlete in basketball and baseball back in high school  Probably coulda gone pro.

Anyway, after I got my honorable discharge I went into business for myself and train civilians in the finer points of being a trained killer.  We have a few opennnnnnggggghhhhhssssss........

I went to basic training at Ft. Jackson from July-Sept. 1990.   C 2/13 INF

Lol

That's awesome lol

Good thing we got sent to different battalions.

Good luck bud

Lol

Obviously I'm making fun of the liars.

We didn't have anything too bad. A guy assaulted a girl in another unit and was kicked out. We also had two guys get caught railing some chick in a tent and another in a dumpster. Someone impaled their leg on the bayonet course.

Thank you

Forty Rounds to you sir!

I figured you were playing because I don't even think a poser would clamped that lol

Basic Officer Leadership Course, Camp Bullis, TX. (reserve medical units and USHUS medical students)

1 - Air conditioned tents
2 - Cursing and fowl language was prohibited
3 - Many lost/misplaced weapons
4 - Condoms (used) found in the back of one of the convoy training vehicles, many found in the latrines

Sometimes I feel I joined a different army than you guys

I often wonder if I should share my stories. Infantry OSUT was an interesting place, LOTS of rules ignored, shit covered up. It was a great thing to be a part of, and something I'll never forget. Shit I will probably never see again in the military these days either.

Yeah you did.....

This is a very true statement

What is this faggotry?

Sir.

LMFAO!

Some great stories!

I was Navy and have a few stories about boot camp in San Diego.

1)  Got the final few guys to form our company of 80 individuals. We get to the barracks and the Company Commander has us all standing tall in front of our racks and proceeds to give us the low down on the next 8 weeks. As part of his spiel he informs us there will be no beating off. If he catches anyone beating off they will be forced to wear one boon docker and one tennis shoe for the rest of their stay in boot camp. We all laugh it off as a big joke. It wasn't a week later we are marching to chow and we spot a group of 6 "Posmonaughts" marching back from chow with one boon docker and one tennis shoe on. I guess he was serious. A Posmonaught was a term for the fuck ups that were assigned to "Positive Motivation Division" and most likely being processed out of boot camp.

2) As in any boot camp setting things have to be folded or made up in very specific ways. We were required to make our rack with the folded seams of the sheet facing a certain way. I made mine incorrectly and the CC noticed it during an inspection. My rack and entire locker were tossed. I was then instructed to take my sheet, form it into a tube grasping the tube in my outstretched hands and run around the perimeter of the barracks flapping my arms like a bird and yelling at the top of my lungs "I'm a fucking catch edge bird". I never made my rack incorrectly again.

3) CCs in the Navy hated unlocked lockers just as much as Gunny Hartman did in FMJ. RTC San Diego didn't have foot lockers though. We had an odd sort of open locker with two drawers referred to as the "A and B" drawers. You kept your valuables in the "B" drawer. The "B" drawer was to be locked at all times unless you were directed to open it. One of the standing orders of the CC was all barracks watches were to look for unlocked "B" drawers. If a "B" drawer was found unlocked it was to be removed and turned into the CC. I was the smallest guy in the company at 5'5" tall and 130lbs. I was also one of a handful of guys in the company that enlisted under the Navy Nuc Program. Enlisting as a Nuc you got paid as an E3 while in boot camp and upon graduation you got to sew on your E3 stripes. There was one guy that really resented the Nucs. He took a very special dislike to me for some reason. He was about a foot taller and probably 50-60 lbs heavier than me and delighted in fucking with me every chance he got. It just so happened that I pulled watch one afternoon when dickhead forgot to lock his "B" drawer. I delighted in turning it over to the CC. Dickhead got a night out at "Marching Party" and I got my sweet revenge for all of the crap he gave me. Marching Party wasn't marching or a party. It was three hours of grueling calisthenics run by the Seals from 2000 to 2300. Fortunately we only had a week left of boot camp. I kept a low profile and avoided the dickhead.

I've got a few more from the Benning school for boys.

 We had these two short guys that were like 5'5 or so I guess; they must have barely met the minimum height requirements. D.S. H used to make them get in front of everyone and perform the song and dance to the Lollipop Guild from The Wizard of Oz. If they didn't act like they were really trying he would get pissed and and smoke them for about 10 minutes to help motivate them. There they would be in BDUs and K pots with their m16s singing " We represent the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild, and in the name of the Lollipop Guild, we welcome you to munchkin land." Like I said though, they couldn't just sing it either; they had to do the dance as well. D.S. H would bring friends over from other companies and battalions just to make these poor guys perform the routine for everyone's amusement.

 We had this one guy in our platoon that before joining the Army had been a hand to hand combat instructor for the LAPD. You could tell this guy had spent his life fighting both in and out of the ring as he had two cauliflower ears. There was a blue falcon in the platoon and one night after lights out the guy that was all into MMA starts just beating the hell out of the blue falcon. After he lets the guy go because he decides he's had enough the blue falcon runs over to platoon guides bunk and says " Hey XXXX, MMA guy is beating me up!" Our platoon guide rolls over in his bunk, looks at the guy and says "Who the fuck do you think told him to do it dumbass?" At this point the blue falcon just freaks out and goes running downstairs almost in tears to the CQ Drill Sergeant. The CQ D.S. comes over the intercom and just says in very sarcastic yet menacing tone " Go back to bed fourth platoon." Blue falcon comes back up to he bay and I see him creep in like he's a damn jewel thief trying to break into a warehouse of diamonds. I guess the C.Q. Drill Sergeant told him to fuck off or something because nothing else was ever said about the incident. It did fit with what we were told the first day which was something to the effect of "If there is a guy that is a problem you all take care of it by whatever means are required."

There was one day that the 1st Sergeant came out of his office, he looked at the line of people going to sick call and just had a shit fit. He stood where all four platoons could see him and then launched into a 15 minute tirade about sick call rangers. I don't remember everything he said but he ended his speech with "I know your pussies hurt privates...My pussy hurts every day too but you don't see me going to sick call all the time over it."


ETA:
The Chaplain at sand hill at the time I was there had been an 11B and a Drill Sergeant before he found god and became a chaplain. Somehow EVERYTHING related to the movie Blackhawk Down. I went to church every week  and I hate to say it had more to do with just getting away from the Drill Sergeants and feeling a bit human than it did religion. After a time it also had to do with seeing how this chaplain could tie Blackhawk Down into any and every sermon. I don't think he was a bad chaplain though, I think he was just trying to tailor what he talked about to his audience and more than anything help us adapt to the life of an 11 series soldier.  It did kind of become a running joke though with people taking bets on how he would work the movie in each week.

FT Sill C 1/22

Stall number five's toilet broke around the time we all had our first MRE shits.  No one cared and continued to shit in it.  The toilet had to be pumped because the plumbing was messed up.  Our DS designated it for masterbation only.  Guys kept shitting in it anyway. A new duty was created: stall number five duty.  We had to be in our PT uniform, LBE, Kevlar and draw our weapon from the DS on CQ.  We stood at parade rest flanking the stall for one hour.  There were two night duties for 4th platoon: fire Gaurd and stall number five detail.

One morning on a PT run one of our company DS beat the shit out of Marine Corp DI.  He wouldnt move his formation off the road forcing us to run around.  I guess the DI made some remark about the Army moving for Marines and DS Assad beat the shit out of him for it.  Never saw him again after that.

We road marched everywhere.  So much that we had a streamer attached to the company colors for breaking some post record.  We rucked out to our first land NAV site (about 20K) and were given the wrong coordinates.  We spent hours aimlessly walking around.  after we were coralled we marched back to the barracks.  Our company commander came out and explained what happened and that we had to repeat the course.  He said that transportation would be a surprise.  We were all thinking cattle trucks and thanked God at the speculation/prospect.  The surprise was we didn't have to carry our M-16's and rucked right back out there.

I have stories for days.

Amen. I ended up with the 1980's  Army version of Private Pyle. Lucky me, we ended up at the same AIT together. He was a shitbag of the highest order.

A few from my time at Benning in 2006.

"Q" the one legged preacher"
"Q" broke or sprained his leg early in Basic. I'm going to guess he didn't break it, but he was on crutches for most of the cycle, and would ride in the trail vehicle to training when he got too tired from hobbling along on crutches. I'll give him this, he had a lot of heart and desire, and never once did I see him try to get out of anything. To the contrary, he had to frequently be told to stand by or do a modified motivational event while the rest of us were smoked. Anyways the NBC chamber is the setting for the best "Q" story. Apparently "Q" didn't break his pro-mask seal when every one else did, thus when his group finally de-masked and exited the chamber, he was significantly less effected than everyone else. Drill Sergeant saw that and made him go again, this time with a few special escorts with special hats, to make sure he completed the event properly. Of course "Q" has seen what the full effects of the CS are on the rest of us, and has limited effect on himself thus far, and he is not happy about going back in. He makes attempts to hobble evade the Drill Sergeants, but to little avail. He re-enters the chamber. A few minutes later the door bursts open, and here is "Q", knocking other Privates to the ground as he is hopping using just his one good leg, his crutches and mask held far to his sides, yelling "Sa-weet Jea-sus!" over and over again with the gnarly mess of snot running down his face.

"Shitty Man Mission Impossible"
We are at the night fire range and I'm on the firing line when a Private from my Platoon comes running up to the Drill Sergeant who is the safety next to me. I hear something about the Private asking the Drill Sergeant if he has a flashlight and a grappling hook. Drill Sergeant gets another Drill Sergeant to relieve him as the safety and I do my firing. Get off the line, and my Drill Sergeant is rounding up all of us smaller framed guys. Turns out that Private "W" had somehow found out that his kevlar is smaller than the diameter of the latrine's toilet seat, and that it will infact be subjected to gravity if his head tilts too far and the strap is not fastened. Luckily for him it landed upside down and is floating. Drill Sergeant asks for a volunteer to be lowered on 550 cord to recover the kevlar. Smallest guys in the Platoon are myself, and "T", who is maybe 5'2", 90lbs. Neither of us are keen on this mission, but as we're giving each other the "fuck that, you do it" look, someone unexpected volunteers. The Platoon's "loud mouth know it all", you all know the type. "Mouth" volunteers, and is lowered into the pit by the Platoon's strongest guys, and does in fact recover the kevlar, a-la mission impossible style. Private "W" is not made to wear the kevlar, the Drill Sergeant issued him a new one, but made him personally responsible for sanitizing his old one daily for a week with lots of bleach. "Mouth" changed that night from an annoying cry baby to someone who actually gave a damn and started pulling his own weight, and became a leader.

"Samoan Rock"
About half way through the cycle some of the "boys from the block" decided it was time to start a little gang. If you wanted to use the shower or the shitter, you had to pay them, or they would rough you up. Sorry, but 8 on 1 isn't fair, and I'm not a good fighter, so I just walked away. I can come back in a few hours thanks. Well that didn't sit well with them, and they came to shake down those of us who didn't pay them homage. Told them to fuck off, and enough of us banded up to convince them to go on their merry way. 8 on 8 is better odds. Back to the shower they go to stand watch. Eventually a quiet guy in the Platoon, a Somoan, decides to go take his shower. The block kids apparently didn't pay attention during combatives. 8 on 1 was nothing for this guy, and the "gang" quickly ceased to exist. A week or so later, two of the "gang" arranged to be on fire guard together. They went through all the unsecured wall lockers and stole wallets, then fled into the night AWOL. Both were eventually caught. Empty wallets found in dumpsters and amnesty bins.

Nothing else really out of the ordinary. We all had suicidal people, blanket parties, barracks tossed, epic smoke sessions, and fatties sneaking or getting candy mailed to them that we all ended up paying for. But the above are my best three non-traditional stories.

I personally had a great time. Lack of sleep sucked, but I enjoyed it.

LMFAO!

Relaxing Jackson Nov97 We were in the old three story barracks too. It was fun making it upstairs to grab TA50 then be back down in formation within 5 minutes when the entire company was doing it at the same time. It was a free-for-all in the stairways, people getting thrown down, punches thrown, ect.

We began our platoon with 32 graduated 19. Most were retarded Mfers to start. Getting about midway through DS asked how many want to quit and go home to raise their hands. The next day those individuals were to fall out and form a line in front of the COs office. He made it happen but they all had to go for Psych evals and sign some paperwork. They were segregated and forced to do manual labor until they were chaptered out. I talked to one guy and he said they were being given a less than Honorable discharge and had to see the JAG. They were still there chipping paint when we graduated.

Our platoon won the DNC competition and therefore won a pizza party and a movie. Our DIs were off and a DI from another platoon was on CQ duty and he was an asshole. About 2100 he had out entire platoon outside smoking us because we won. He was making us guzzle canteens of water then rolling us all over the ground, 8-count pushups, sprints, over and over. People we puking thier guts out and having to roll around in it. Some other DIs came out and tried to get him to stop but he screamed at them and continued to smoke us. Finally our SDI, E8 showed out and put the DI's heels together, dismissed us, and began to read him the riot act. I never saw that DI again until graduation day.

During out last road march we were camped out and were brought into formation and told that major storm was on the way. When it got too bad the would blow a whistle we were to form up and move out to a designated area, ground our gear and rifle then follow instructions. The storm rolled in and lightening was popping everywhere and raining its ass off, we formed up and marched to the area then told to head back and get some sleep. Were had been in and out of the rain all day and most of the night and my Battle buddy and I were freezing and crawled into our shelter and fell asleep. We were awoken by a major storm, wind howling, hard rain blowing like crazy, we couldn't see my BB wore glasses and couldn't see shit so he took them off so he wouldn't lose them.
I told him to grab my LBE and I would lead us to the formation area. When I go there my platoon was gone. The storm was growing worse so we made the decision to make it to the grounding area on our own. We began to run down the trail, me leading and my BB hanging on to my suspenders. The rain was coming down in sheets and we lost the trail and began to run in the general direction, falling in knee high trenches of water, finally making it to the grounding area. We reported to the DI there who radioed our platoon that we made it ahead of our platoon. We stripped all metal from ourselves, laid our rifle down with our gear so we could read our butt number, then were sent to do the kimchi squat in the field two feet away from the next soldier. We squatted like that the rest of the night while the storm raged. I was so tired I managed to sleep like that. It was the worst storm I had been in. Rain water was pouring down my face so hard it was sucking in my mouth and nose when breathing. I was freezing too. The next day I changed into a fresh uniform and felt like a million bucks! It was crazy. We broke camp and rucked back to post that morning after chow.

During fire-guard one night around midnight I had just returned from making my head count and just sat down when the CO and the CQ came onto my floor. I went through the standard questionnaire and was told to stand by as they were going to perform their own headcount. One of the privates in our platoon was a very light sleeper and would wake up when someone shined the flashlight on his face. We all had come into agreement that we would try not to shine the light onto the person directly and if we did we would try to hit the feet so not to wake anyone.
About 5 minutes into the CO's headcount I hear, "Fuck ME? How about FUCKYOU! Get the FUCK DOWN STAIRS, GET YOUR GEAR AND GET THE FUCK DOWN STAIRS! Then I see the CO red faced and storming towards me followed by the DI shaking his head. About 30 seconds after that here comes the private saying, "Oh fuck. oh fuck. I though it was you. Oh fuck..." Come to find out the CO shined the flashlight on his face during his head count and the private flipped him the bird and told him to go fuck himself. The CO was trying to have him issued an Article 15. Somehow he avoided it. It was funny as hell though. That guy go smoked until it was time to go PT.

I forget if it was before or after I came down with my Strep Throat, but one day there was an unusually large amount of people going in for Sick Call.

About a dozen, probably more, fakers that went on Sick Call that morning were lined up on the parade ground, just a bit away from the rest of the Company right after Breakfast (I think).  They were all then forced to do a bunch of pushups and other forms of PT.  They were silently jeered by the rest of the company.  There is a Legitimately sick, like I and a few others were, and then there were Those Slackers.

I, along with about 30 other guys in my company, got shigella in basic because some fuckstick on KP handled food after taking a dump and not washing his hands.



The experience of going to sick call was one of the most unpleasant memories I have from basic.  They basically treated us as if our getting food poisioing was our own stupid fault.



I just remember them all giving us stool sample cups, which we all had to individually take back and turn in to sick call.



30 privates will full shit sample cups standing at attention outside sick call in February, steaming shit cups in hand, getting bawled out by some PA's NCOIC that "sick call is a military formation".



At the squirts on top of that (not a poop thread) and the fact that every time you farted, which was about every three minutes, you got a "spoonful" in your briefs (no wonder they're brown).  Standing there.  At attention.



It sucked.



 

Damn, sick call wasn't fun and not a place I wanted to go.  I did end up having to go once because during a ruck march down a trail in the dark I tripped over a rock and twisted my ankle. They never did a an x-ray or anything and just decided that I had pulled muscles and would be fine. About a year later a doc was looking at the same foot and ankle because of recurring pain when he asked me WTF had happened. Apparently doing an x-ray would have been a good idea as they would have seen it wasn't just pulled muscles. The doc told me I was pretty much screwed because I would probably just end up worse if they tried to re-break and fix it. He gave me a 100 count bottle of tylenol with codeine  and told me just to try to make the best of it.