Parris Island, not the fondest of memories...

Actually most of the stuff is pretty goddamn funny once you're done with it.  Off the top of my head....

Being forced to roll around in the wet grass every day after chow, because, "You all just got to eat, the bugs get to eat too!!"

DI's forcing a random hispanic guy to run around in circles saying "good afternoon sir" in spanish to every DI he encountered.  My DIs, who were unable to control their laughter, then told him to do it in german.  "Sir, this recruit doesn't know how to speak german..."  "WELL BOY YOU BETTER FUCKING LEARN!!"

One kid fucked up and told another recruit to "sit you black ass down."  They had every black DI from the entire company come buy and destroy him on the quarterdeck.  Later it was found out in the field that the kid was color blind, which created hilarity, with my (black) DI ripping the kid a new one.  "Motherfucker thinks he's at a klan meet, but hes at a black panther march.  He dont know, hes a fucking color blind racist.  Shit, his old man's black.  His daddy's slinging black dick all up in his house, but he dont know.  Goddamn, a color blind racist..."  He went on for literally 15 minutes.  Funniest shit I've ever seen.  It was also the only time we were allowed to laugh, because "Its ok to laugh at ignorant racists."  For the rest of the cycle he was known as the color blind racist.  

February 0430 PT, Sand Hill Fort Benning, GA
Any given sand PT pit

In a soothing tone: "Private, your hands are in your tucked into your shirt... are you cold?"  "I've got a solution to the problem, since it's too cold we'll all finish PT upstairs this morning.  It's just too cold out here, right?"
A few of the dumber ones nod, a lot of confused looks, some of the really sleepy ones look relieved.  The smart ones are usually scared at this point.

"Since the task, conditions and standards of this morning's PT event requires that we're on the upper PT field... we'll just take it with us."

Now everybody has a confused look.

THE BEACH

"Put my PT field in the platoon bay, use your hands... Heck, I'll be nice and let you use your hats and pockets too, you have one hour"

"Move"

Later in the day...

Senior Drill Sergeant: "Why is there four inches of sand covering my newly-buffed floor?"

Add comments about how to move faster or he'll get on the phone to the god of war, forget to take his "don't-go-fucking-crazy-pills", splash them all with gasoline then chase them with a flare gun and generally just go batshit with a clawhammer.


When it's all cleaned up... which is about three or four hours, "Why isn't the floor buffed?"

THE FASHION SHOW

"You have two minutes to get into your full winter PT uniform and get downstairs into formation".   It never happens.

Half the platoon shows up in some sort of half-PT-half-ACU uniform.  "That's alright, we've got all the time in the world"
"Get upstairs and toe-the-line, be dressed in your Class B uniform.  You have two minutes.  Go."

We just keep going like this until they are just puddles and it becomes a safety issue if we continue.  
The uniform combinations are interesting.  I've seen uniforms worn inside-out, trainees running with their ACU pants on backwards, shoes on the wrong feet are common, mixing shoes, shower shoes, socks and boots, no shoes, no socks, pro-masks, etc.   Privates trying to wear three pairs of pants at the same time, field jacket liner under a white t-shirt, trying to put on their PT t-shirt over a field jacket, poly-pro top over a Class A overcoat.  JLIST top, Class A trousers with a tie and PT cap, craziness.


There are a lot of these and there are [lots of] reasons for doing this, but why spoil it for those that are going to find out first-hand?

MCRD, San Diego.
Parris Island has sand fleas. San Diego has jetliners a few hundred yards away and the city right on the other side of the chainlink.
Lots of hilarity as the big end of the formation consistently fails to hear the marching orders over the high-decibel roar of airliners taking off.  Lots of extra bends and thrusts. I'm 6'.
Then those days in the first few weeks when folks are really fed up and the Junior Drill Instructor is sliding through the ranks whispering in the malcontents' ears, 'there it is, all you have to do is climb that fence, go ahead, we won't miss you'


Sunday mornings, if the Senior marched us to breakfast, he'd let us buy Sunday papers as we exited the chowhall. It was the only way we got any outside news, other than letters. I learned early on that if I was clever about it I could ditch church call and gain an extra couple hours to take care of my laundry etc. Part of the trick was having to lay low / blend in. Taking a nice relaxing dump while reading the paper was part of this 'strategery'. The barracks head had eight stalls, walls with no doors. One day while in there one of my squadmates comes asking to read the Sports section. Damned if that idiot didn't sit right down in the doorway of my crapper and start reading.


My girlfriend at the time had a horse and sent me a picture of her on horseback, in costume, after taking part in some local parade. A barbarian-Xena looking costume. Junior DI saw that and called me Conan for a while, after making sure everyone got a gander at the pic.


Had really shitty timing going to Boot, there for the Holidays. We were in our Mess & Maintenance week, pulling KP at Edson Range/Pendleton during Christmas. Worse (we thought) our Series Chief Drill Instructor was standing in for our DIs (as he was single and they were all married with families). He had always been an uptight hardass. The man actually broke out a boom box in our squad bay, playing XMas music and let us slouch about the place for much of the day. And he let details march down and use the payphones, which was pretty much unheard of. In the late 80s the standard routine was no calls at all, until Family Day, the Sunday before graduation Friday for those whose families couldn't make it.


And I agree with the earlier poster, it was a blast (in a weird way). Something or someone made me bust out laughing several times a day. Less than 100 days there, way more than a 100 stories out of it.


ETA:
One of the things that sucked about Boot was not knowing what you were going to be doing next and getting whipsawed into gear changes and the usual 'hurry up' bullshit. Well our Guide and squadleaders hatched a plan. The little guys always get picked to be 'house mouse' for the DIs, farting around with paperwork in the Squad Bay office. Our recruit leaders convinced one of these guys to make duplicate copies of the index cards the DIs kept in their hats with the day's training schedule. Well one day we were to hit the Obstacle course after a morning class. We knew it was coming because of the 'stolen' info. Our two Junior DIs marched us back to barracks, and left us alone for a couple minutes (to get into their PT gear). Some of us got ahead of ourselves. The DIs hadn't told us what was next, but some of the platoon started changing into PT gear. The DI's came out hollerin' 'Get in your PT gear now, do it!- WHAT THE FUCK!?' when they saw about a third of the platoon already changing. There was much hollering but we had a schedule to keep.
They eventualy figured it out and poor little Recruit Rodriguez had to sweat for a loooong time. And our Guide and Squad leaders got fired.

The Gas Chamber-

So our DS is talking up the gas chamber like no other......"Blah blah privates from previous cycles crying, blah...one threw up in his gas mask."  Which he actually did and had it on video.

So naturally, I'm the platoon smartass (Who woulda thought? ) and the DS loves me....literally, I was probably the least smoked person in the platoon.  Maybe its cuz he was from Kansas as well, who knows.

So we get to the gas chamber and we go in.  Everyone lines the wall, shoulder to shoulder.  DS gives command to break the seal on the gas chamber but they dont come by and inspect everyone.  So I was like, "Nuh uh, that shit aint happening".  Then you have to reseal it.  So people are starting to cough by now and whatnot.
They line us up 3 wide at the exit door and you have to completely take off the mask and put it back on and reseal it before you can leave, all 3 of you.  I was on the far right and the guy next to me were done with ours and we're waiting on the last guy on the left.  He's taking forever and would eventually have to go back through 3 times.  So finally after a minute, I'm like "Fuck this shit!"  And I go without permission of the DS...so I bust out the door with my 2 guys and the DS is caught off guard and grabs my collar but I do a shoulder dip and get him off while coughing/gagging/crying going out the door to sweet fresh air!  The sun and fresh air never looked so good even though I couldnt see it because I was crying like a little girl.
Good ole DS is out there with his video camera taping it and sees me come running out crying and snot dripping down.

"NOT SO FUNNY NOW, IS IT GIBBS??   HA HA HA HA HA"   I semi looked at him and hunched over trying to cry this shit out and I manage to cough up "No DS, not right now."




We had one guy who was Airborne Ranger contract who was a giant pussy fatbody.  When he came out of the gas chamber he screamed in a little girls voice "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAKE IT STOP....MAKE IT STOPPPPP"  
He NEVER lived that down and was made fun of at least every other day by the DS....who also got it on tape.





Was there from late May to early Sept.  So obviously we hit 4th of July.  That year, 4th July was on a Wed.  We went to a 4th July festival on Tuesday night by Infantry Hall.  Pizza, ice cream, pop....the works!  We were happier than pigs in mud.
Well the DS decided to take the week off and have only 1 DS on CQ duty.  Our DS brought out their PS2 and tv from the office as well as the entire Band of Brothers DVD, Blackhawk Down and A Bridge To Far.  They were like, "Have fun and be downstairs for chow on time, bye."  
So from Wed. morning at 6am until Friday night at 9pm, we brought mattresses onto the barrack floor and we had 40guys laying everywhich way watching Band of Brothers.

Come Saturday.....we paid the price for not having done PT for 5 days and having eaten pizza and ice cream.  We had like 5 guys puke.  The DS were like, "Yeah, how was that pizza now, bitches?!?"

Quoted: Quoted: I called the Senior DS "sir". SFC Marrero made the next few hours a hell I will never forget. How are you supposed to address them? you mean the guys who work for a living?

Ahhh...memories. I still use that phrase when someone calls me "Sir".

Somehow I managed to get to basic in Sep'87 without registering with selective service.

About three weeks in, two detective looking guys in suits show up and go talk to my drill Sgt.

He then yells for me!

He tells me that those two gentlemen in suits are here to arrest me for falsifying my enlistment.

"Huh?" I think.

He goes on to say that I had never registered for selective service and, "If there's one thing I cannot stand in MY Army, it's a stinking DRAFT DODGER!"

The two detective types were merely there to get me to sign the selective service paperwork.

Recruit Sadow had a strange tendency to say stupid things at most inappropriate times. We were just about to begin a 10mi march, ruck, rifle, etc. and he said something that gave the DI Perez an interesting idea... He ran Sadow back to the barracks and when he came back his head was wrapped in TP, with eye and nose holes torn out. DI Perez began to explain why he was wrapped, "Recruit Sadow has nothing but SHIT in his head. SHIT HEAD! Nothing but pure shit runs from his mouth, the TP is there to catch it."

The TP was soaked with sweat by the time we returned to the barracks. And best of all, I think he finally learned his lesson.

Quoted: Come Saturday.....we paid the price for not having done PT for 5 days and having eaten pizza and ice cream.  We had like 5 guys puke.  The DS were like, "Yeah, how was that pizza now, bitches?!?"

bump for more stories

Quoted: Recruit Sadow had a strange tendency to say stupid things at most inappropriate times. We were just about to begin a 10mi march, ruck, rifle, etc. and he said something that gave the DI Perez an interesting idea... He ran Sadow back to the barracks and when he came back his head was wrapped in TP, with eye and nose holes torn out. DI Perez began to explain why he was wrapped, "Recruit Sadow has nothing but SHIT in his head. SHIT HEAD! Nothing but pure shit runs from his mouth, the TP is there to catch it." The TP was soaked with sweat by the time we returned to the barracks. And best of all, I think he finally learned his lesson.

Thats a new one on me, pretty good

Can someone define the following terms?
These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms:

TI
Quarter-Deck
PT
Smoke (or getting smoke(d) from DI)
CQ duty

Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI Quarter-Deck PT

See you local recruter

The last time i ever ate yogurt was the morning before the gas chamber. Yeah, that crap was fun to clean out of my mask, having been semi-digested for about three hours. And you know how they make you clear your mask before you leave the chamber? Yeah. Real fun.

Learned never to answer a "why is that fucked up" type of question from a DS with "Shit happens, drill sergeant."

My favorite memories are the strange, new, and interesting quotes and comments made by drill sergeants. Such things as some mentioned here already. "Dont-go-fucking-crazy-pills". "Did you get two helpings of stupid at morning chow?" "Did you shine those boots with a turd?" "You've got ten seconds...nine, seven, three, two, one...too slow."

FT Knox in early spring 1981.

Two friends and I max the GATE-3 (Graduate Armor Training test #3) and are rewarded with an off-post pass (Along with about 20 other guys in our training company).

What do you do when you're an 18yr old BAT (Basic Armor Training) "Student" at FT Knox and get your first off-post pass?.....why...you head for E-Town! ( Elizabeth town KY).

We hit E-Town looking "Suave-and-de-boner"() with our #1 all-over hair-cuts and our "Stylin'" FT Knox "Bad-ass" sweats bought at the battalion shoppette (You know the stuff, "M-60A1....62 tons of pure hell!...ect).

So, we're in E-Town all of 5 min's when, after buying two-piece pool cues and walkman's from some dude in a van (Who turned the worlds fastest U-Turn when he saw US walking down the other side of the street) MR pimp pulls-up next to us and asks if we'd like a couple of his Ladies to join us later (Is that service or WHAT?! lol)

We tell him (We're 18 yr old white-bread Tanker studs mind you)..HELL YEAH!...send the girls on over!

We check into the Holiday Inn (Or whatever) and start getting seriously drunk.  About an hour after we get there we see pimp-dude cruising the parking lot with two of the SKANKIEST looking Women any of us has ever laid eyes on..........We're excited!

The girls come on up, explain the harsh financial realities of the encounter and we balk (We're cheap studs).  They say that's cool but offer to party with us for a reduced rate.  Seein' as we're sick of looking at each other (My Tanker buddies and I) we agree and proceed to get shit-faced with the Ladies while they strip for us on the furniture.

We took LOT's of pictures.

About three days later I'm on SDNCO runner duty and one of my friends from E-Town walks-up and hands me a stack of photo's (Just back from the shoppette) of our night of freedom.  I'm sitting tre looking a them when SFC Giardina (Huge frickin' Italian dude who was our head DI) makes a late-night visit to the barracks.

There's some pretty innocent pic's that we took of E-Town BLDG's with cannon balls stuck in them from the civil war so, as SFC Giardina steps-up to my post I (Cooly) rotate the hooker photo's to the bottom of the pile anticipating that he just MIGHT want to see what I'm looking at.

SFC Giardina picks the pic's up and with-out spending a nano-second looking at the ones on the top of the pile deftly manages (I'm still not sure how he managed to do it?!!!) to pull-out every pic' in the pile that has three idiots partying with hookers.

I learned to love the front-leaning-rest position after that

I could deal with everything, but the one thing I hated was when we had to stand in line for chow packed in like Sardines. "Butt to Nut" our DI called it and everyone always just smelled like BO.

Quoted: Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI Quarter-Deck PT See you local recruter

Ask your DI to "smoke" you.  He will be greatly honored.  You will quickly become his favorite recruit.

So one day all of us recruits were in the head, and the drill instructors were doing their usual, "You have 19, 18, 17...3, 2, 1 your DONE!" deal, and this one recruit had to go pretty bad, and he didn't finish. So the Drill Instructor told him to pinch it off, he couldn't do that either. The Drill Instructor got pretty pissed and grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, while the recruit was still peeing. So the recruit pissed all over the Drill Instructor. Needless to say, the DI was pissed, and the recruit was scared shitless. That recruit ended up getting smoked every single day for the rest of the time we were there.

Pretty much every morning our DI's would make us drink a canteen of water. One morning in third phase we did the usual get out of the rack, make it, get dressed, and then stand on line. The Drill Instructor, Sgt C, comes out and tells everyone to get a canteen. Then he tells everyone to drink it. Well, everyone starts drinking except for this one recruit. Sgt C asks him why he's not drinking. The recruit says, "This Recruit made a mistake, sir." Sgt C gave him the wtf look, and asked him what was wrong. The recruit stated that he had peed in his canteen the previous night, and had not had time to rinse it out. Sgt C didnt' believe him so he took the canteen, sniffed it, looked at the recruit and then threw the contents of the canteen all over teh recruit. Then he wouldn't let him change all day. So this dumbass smelled like piss all day.

Once my DI made me wear a Superman costume while he blew me.....

Quoted: One of the female companies in my training group had a bunch of girls get caught pleasuring themselves with tubes of toothpaste.

That's why all the "ladies" going through 4th RTB at PI have to turn in their buffers before light's out

Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI Quarter-Deck PT Smoke (or getting smoke(d) from DI) CQ duty

I think you meant IT on the first one
IT is Intensive Training. It's the same thing as the rest of them. Basically the DI takes you and makes you do various exercises (pushups, crunches, hello dollys, mountain climbers, diamond pushups, etc.) until you can't move anymore. And then he has you do them some more. Sometimes he just makes some shit up too. Most of the time you come away with puddles of sweat on the ground.
Just thinking about it brings back memories: "Build my house right now. Too slow, Get back. pushups right now. mountain climbers right now."
The best was while we were at Edson Range, we had this metal desk in the squad bay, and one of my DI's absolutely hated this one recruit. So he had him climb under the desk, and then blocked him in with foot lockers. Then took a golf club i believe, and proceeded to beat the shit out of the desk. it became a regular occurance until the series commander walked in one day.

Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI Quarter-Deck PT Smoke (or getting smoke(d) from DI) CQ duty

Training Instructor(?) - another torturer that the platoon is handed to for instruction.

Quarter Deck - nautical term. In Marine Boot it referred to the front portion of clear floorspace near the front door of the barracks, adjacent to the DI's office/bedroom. Enough space for ~110 bodies to sit cross-legged. Usually where Individuals got to do punishment PT while others went about whatever chore they were doing.

PT - Physical Training. More often a form of punishment consisting of a whole variety of exercises thrown at teh recruit in a sequence too fast to properly execute. Almost always leaving you literally dancing in a puddle of your own sweat.

Smoke - as in 'getting smoked'. See PT.

CQ - Charge of Quarters. Guard Duty. Also termed Firewatch in the Marines. The barracks almost always had two recruits standing guard, day or night.  At night it was two bodies, every hour, over 8 hrs. Which meant every 4-6 days you pulled a guard shift. And if you were particularly annoying you'd get a middle shift which means your sleep was really fucked up. Which means you'd nod off in classes. Which means your get MORE of such duty.

Quoted: I could deal with everything, but the one thing I hated was when we had to stand in line for chow packed in like Sardines. "Butt to Nut" our DI called it and everyone always just smelled like BO.

'Asshole to bellybutton'. One thing about Boot, it sure as hell gets you over any issues about 'personal space', privacy, or nudity taboos. That, or it'll break you.

Quoted: Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI  zoomie DI Quarter-Deck  It is over by the poop deck because squids don't play with a full deck PT  Physical Training See you local recruter

Ft McClellan, AL 21 OCT 83 to 22 DEC 83
We had a retread who had come down with an upper respiratory infection on his first go-round.  This guy was an absolute dipshit and always tried to find the easy way out of every thing instead of just getting the job done.  Well, we have our little FTX and he is assigned, along with me and a few others, to obtain firewood for the barrels.  Being the lazy city boy that he was, decided to remove his steel pot (We still had the good helmets back then) and hang it on a branch while he looked.  Before he managed to hang the helmet  up (by the chin strap) I tried to warn him that it wasn't advised to hang it there.  He ignored me.  So, we each get a good double armload of deadwood, he puts his helmet back on (With me laughing at him) and head back to the bivouac site.  At about 3 AM, we wake up with him crying uncontrollably.  The PVT on fire watch wakes the Drill, who is not a happy camper.  Drill comes out with a flashlight and all of us are standing around to see what is going on.  Flashlight to PVT retreads face and everyone busts out laughing.  He had this wonderful bright red blistering rash exactly matching a helmet chin strap.  I guess that I was the only one that knew that it is the vine that you have to watch out for with poison ivy, not the leaves.  He went from being called Private retread to being called private pinky because of the Calamine he had to keep on his face for a week.

I was an Army brat that had the pleasure of getting to clean my fathers 16 as a kid.  I am one of 2 assigned to CQ at brigade HQ and don't get any sleep.  We get back the next morning and the class is on field stripping the 16.  My drill (SSG Cobb, a great drill and one of the finest I ever met in service) tells us to stand by (Class was already 2 hours in session) and he will fill us in during lunch.  I state that I can already FS the 16.  So, he challenges me to do it.  I do it within graduation time limit.  He then proclaims that I am a smartass and challenges me to a race.  I beat him by 4 seconds on disassembly and 3 seconds on reassembly.  The other PVT had to stay late for training and I go to go to bed.

My major shortcoming in basic was the pushup.  I could max the situps with plenty of time to spare.  I could easily pass the 2 mile run walking (courtesy of trying to keep up walking with my father after his post VN physical therapy when he never ran the PT test again, but ended up passing it walking).  And I could do some serious long distance running.(Longstreet run at Bragg for example)  But, I could only do 8 pushups when I got there.  So, SSG Cobb decides to help me.  "Every time you see me, drop and give me 20"  He would walk into the platoon bay and I would drop and start pushing.  He would immediately walk back out and listen for me to finish.  As soon as I finished, he would walk back in.  Every night, he would do this 10+ times.  This was in addition to all the times he would drop me during the day.  Final PT test, I get to 40 with time to spare.  Drill counts out "40" and I yell out "HOT DAMN!!! I MADE IT!!"  Drill says "zero".  This drill was from a different platoon, but knew me.  I did the next one and he counted 41, but it sure as hell scared the shit out of me.  

The most embarassing thing was graduation.  My father retired a CW3.  After the ceremony, we go back to the barracks.  Junior drill SGT Mathews (Female, tobacco chewing, hardcore etc...) tells me to report to the day room.  There is my father in class A's.  I report with the salute and all and notice that he happens to be wearing his Tony Lama cowboy boots with his uniform.  Not realizing that it was legal for retirees I excuse myself, run upstairs, grab my spare set of dress uniform shoes and bring them down.  (I showed up with a set of combat boots and a set of dress shoes pre super shined)  In front of SSG Cobb, I go up to my father and say "Sir, I thought you may need these since you seem to be out of uniform."  Cobb busted out laughing his ass off.  

Scariest thing....Arrive McClellan 20 OCT 83.  Go to the central processing center.  We get up the next morning and pass the Drills day room and see combat footage on TV.  We ask the drill what movie they were watching.  "That aint no movie private.  We just went to war on Granada"  Talk about pucker factor.

All through basic, I felt like I was going through hell.  Right after graduation, I immediately missed it.  I knew ahead of time the true purpose of basic and that is what kept me going at times.  Looking back, it wasn't that bad.



Years later (94) I am back at McClellan for a reclass.  Paperwork gets screwed and I am put in with an Osut unit.  At this point I had 10 years in (4 active and 6 guard)  Couldn't get promoted in guard because my MOS didn't exist in the state and new entries got priority on getting trained, so I kept getting bumped.  Guys that joined after I got to the guard were outranking me by then)  I had my 5 on active and was slotted as a 4 in the guard (only available slot and all sorts of f ups with guard paperwork)  So, I show up and am in the barracks right next door to where I did basic.  I have weekend warrior drills with less time in service than I had in grade.  They liked picking on retrains because they felt that the retrains had no real purpose in life and couldn't make up their mind what they wanted to do in life.  I told them the only reason I was reclassifying is because my MOS didn't exist in the state.  They wouldn't believe me.  So, for a couple of weeks they give me crap.  Finally, we have a class A inspection.  I was ranking person in platoon, so I am standing out in front of formation when the drills walk up.  Needless to say, I had all my "finery" on my uniform including shoulder chord, service stripes and 3 rows of ribbons.  Drill walks up and I turn around.  The OH SHIT look on their faces was worth every bit of the crap they gave me up to then.  A couple of RA drills from the next company walk by about that time and start laughing.  They pull rank and call me aside.  They start out with a WTF are you doing here.  I explain the paperwork SNAFU.  They invite me to breakfast with them.  So, I am sitting at the drills table in the chow hall and my drills are just livid.  After breakfast, the other drills talk to their CO who comes and talks to my CO.  Then it goes up to BN and Brigade level.  The shitstorm that followed was unbelieveable.  

Anyway, that was about the same time Clinton said he was cutting the budget and putting the gays in the military.  My wife had just had major surgery and I had become totally disgusted with what I had been seeing over the past few years and especially the last few months.  I typed out my resignation.  (something that I now regret doing).  3 days after the class A incident, I was on a bus back home.  I had simply had too much shit going on at home to put up with the BS at McClellan and I couldn't, in good concious, follow my oath to obey the orders of the commander in chief that was a draft dodger.  I felt too strongly about the service to tolerate what I was seeing.  It hurt like hell to resign, but I had to do it.  My regrets, not being able to serve with those that are in service now.  Not being able to put all my training (right at 2 years for my original MOS) to use.  Having served under Reagan and Bush 1, not completing the trilogy and serving under Bush 2.  No longer being physically able (I am partially disabled and a life time member of the DAV) to re-enlist and complete my term to retirement.  

Sorry, I am rambling now, but the memories stirred up......

To those that have served or are currently serving, I give my thanks.

Quoted: Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI Quarter-Deck PT Smoke (or getting smoke(d) from DI) CQ duty Training Instructor(?) - another torturer that the platoon is handed to for instruction. Quarter Deck - nautical term. In Marine Boot it referred to the front portion of clear floorspace near the front door of the barracks, adjacent to the DI's office/bedroom. Enough space for ~110 bodies to sit cross-legged. Usually where Individuals got to do punishment PT while others went about whatever chore they were doing. PT - Physical Training. More often a form of punishment consisting of a whole variety of exercises thrown at teh recruit in a sequence too fast to properly execute. Almost always leaving you literally dancing in a puddle of your own sweat. Smoke - as in 'getting smoked'. See PT. CQ - Charge of Quarters. Guard Duty. Also termed Firewatch in the Marines. The barracks almost always had two recruits standing guard, day or night.  At night it was two bodies, every hour, over 8 hrs. Which meant every 4-6 days you pulled a guard shift. And if you were particularly annoying you'd get a middle shift which means your sleep was really fucked up. Which means you'd nod off in classes. Which means your get MORE of such duty.

Fire duty was different than CQ.  Fire duty with us was a 1 hour watch.  CQ on the other hand was a 24 hour duty cycle.  In our case (during basic) we would have fire duty about once a week, each week.  One person per platoon, 2 platoons per floor.  So, 2 people were on duty on each floor except the first floor which only had one platoon and the day room.  CQ, we sent 2 bodies to brigade HQ to buff the floors and take out trash etc all night long.  If you were really lucky, you might get 1 or 2 hours sleep.  Each company sent 2 bodies per week so your chances of getting called up on that were slim.  The drills usually pulled the 2 people that were least likely to suffer by missing a day of training.  It was just rough as hell (typically) trying to stay awake for training the next day.  The advantage of CQ was that the duty NCO usually ordered pizza, so you got a damn good meal (compared to chow hall food) and wasn't a hardass like the drills were.  My time pulling CQ was actually pretty fun getting to watch TV while eating, listening to the radio and getting to relax from not having a drill breathing down my collar.  

My grandfather was at Parris Island in 1942.

He told me of the first inspection they went through. He was toward the end of the line/squadbay/whatever they had back then, and the DI was at the front, a good hour away before they would be inspected. The guy next to him quickly scratched his nose and went back to attention. An hour or so goes by and the DI is finally down toward them. The DI walks up to the nose scratcher and asks, "Does your nose itch, boy?" Before he could respond, the DI broke his nose. My grandpa said there was blood everywhere.

I don't have any good stories per se. My grandfather and uncle were in the Corps, so I visited Quantico quite abit when I was young. I had seen the OCS grounds before a couple times and thought it was cool, but when the bus crossed the railroad tracks and I saw the grounds this summer (for real this time), I got that "oh shit, this is it" moment.

A candidate across from me during our first inspection had a huge uni-brow. The SI ripped him apart for everything wrong, then said "Rendell, you fail. You know why you fail Rendell? You only got one eye brow, and you're supposed to have two." It was damn hard not to laugh at that.

Then there's the dumbasses who don't lock their footlockers/wall lockers before leaving the squadbay. One time we came back in from drill and there is shit EVERYWHERE. About seven kids forget to secure their shit. The worst part was the SI's took all the sun screen from their lockers and sprayed it everywhere. I mean everywhere. The ceiling, racks, mirrors in the head, windows, everywhere.

We were having a nutrition class from the PTI on health at OCS. He was explaining how we were to salt our food so that we would retain water better. One kid goes, "PTI, I heard that you can put salt in your water too!" Our PTI was black as night and had the most ghetto accent ever. He just looks at the kid and goes, "Wut the hell kinda question is dat, can-di-date? Course you can put salt in yo water. How much salt you put in yo water, one packet, two packet, thirty-two packets of salt so mutha fuckin Moby Dick can be swimmin in yo water candidate?" I, along with many others, were almost in tears. Might be one of those things you had to been there for.

I have lots of good stories, but the ones that mean the most to me were the serious ones. Obviously with the war starting several years ago, there were many combat experienced SNCO's/NCO's there teaching us. My favorite memory was at inprocessing (which blows dick) when a GySgt was watching over us in the hall during downtime. Two arms covered in tattoos, sort of a pot-belly, balding. He would joke around and tell us stories about different places he's been stationed, shoot the shit, etc. Someone asked him if he was in Iraq, and the stories started to flow. He then asked us to guess how many rounds he fired during 7 months while there. Everyone was throwing out ridiculous numbers, 1,000,000, 100,000, etc. After the guessing he just said flatly, "Zero. I was too busy giving orders, handing out magazines, running around getting shit organized that I never had time to shoot. And that's what you'll be doing. You job is to make sure your men know what they should be doing, and have what they need to do it. Remember that." I will remember that for as long as I live.

tag for later---goin to bed

Quoted: We were having a nutrition class from the PTI on health at OCS. He was explaining how we were to salt our food so that we would retain water better. One kid goes, "PTI, I heard that you can put salt in your water too!" Our PTI was black as night and had the most ghetto accent ever. He just looks at the kid and goes, "Wut the hell kinda question is dat, can-di-date? Course you can put salt in yo water. How much salt you put in yo water, one packet, two packet, thirty-two packets of salt so mutha fuckin Moby Dick can be swimmin in yo water candidate?"

The DI walks up to the nose scratcher and asks, "Does your nose itch, boy?" Before he could respond, the DI broke his nose.

I'll bet he's sure glad that it wasn't his balls that he scratched!

Quoted: Quoted: Quoted: Can someone define the following terms? These are great stories, but need a crash course on Boot Camp terms: TI Quarter-Deck PT Smoke (or getting smoke(d) from DI) CQ duty Training Instructor(?) - another torturer that the platoon is handed to for instruction. Quarter Deck - nautical term. In Marine Boot it referred to the front portion of clear floorspace near the front door of the barracks, adjacent to the DI's office/bedroom. Enough space for ~110 bodies to sit cross-legged. Usually where Individuals got to do punishment PT while others went about whatever chore they were doing. PT - Physical Training. More often a form of punishment consisting of a whole variety of exercises thrown at teh recruit in a sequence too fast to properly execute. Almost always leaving you literally dancing in a puddle of your own sweat. Smoke - as in 'getting smoked'. See PT. CQ - Charge of Quarters. Guard Duty. Also termed Firewatch in the Marines. The barracks almost always had two recruits standing guard, day or night.  At night it was two bodies, every hour, over 8 hrs. Which meant every 4-6 days you pulled a guard shift. And if you were particularly annoying you'd get a middle shift which means your sleep was really fucked up. Which means you'd nod off in classes. Which means your get MORE of such duty. Fire duty was different than CQ.  Fire duty with us was a 1 hour watch.  CQ on the other hand was a 24 hour duty cycle.  In our case (during basic) we would have fire duty about once a week, each week.  One person per platoon, 2 platoons per floor.  So, 2 people were on duty on each floor except the first floor which only had one platoon and the day room.  CQ, we sent 2 bodies to brigade HQ to buff the floors and take out trash etc all night long.  If you were really lucky, you might get 1 or 2 hours sleep.  Each company sent 2 bodies per week so your chances of getting called up on that were slim.  The drills usually pulled the 2 people that were least likely to suffer by missing a day of training.  It was just rough as hell (typically) trying to stay awake for training the next day.  The advantage of CQ was that the duty NCO usually ordered pizza, so you got a damn good meal (compared to chow hall food) and wasn't a hardass like the drills were.  My time pulling CQ was actually pretty fun getting to watch TV while eating, listening to the radio and getting to relax from not having a drill breathing down my collar.

Your FireGuard was a lot different than ours.

We had 2 people each hour in their respective platoon barracks.  So 55guys, you'd usually have it every 3rd or 4th night.

Then on CQ, we'd send two people down per hour and then rotate through teh CO.

And Brigade CQ, same thing.  Just cycle 2 people per hour...

Bump for more stories!

Bump.

I had forgotten about this one...

I had made the illustrious "High BRM" (Basic Rifle Marksmanship) in the battery, and I got a white armband to wear on my BDUs. The only advantage to being the high BRM was that you got to be first in line for chow. One day, my Platoon Sergeant looked at his watch, and seeing it was close to lunch, told me to hit it, so I proceeded over to do my push-ups, sit-ups and chin-ups prior to going to stand at the chow hall door. As I am passing by another platoon sitting in their bleachers for some kind of class or whatever, one of the DS's said something, and I replied with "Huh?"      
Boy, was that stupid...
Turns out, it was the very same DS that had been on my bus that first day, and he zeroed in on me like a freakin' missile. When it came to delivering the famous DS tirade, this guy was a real pro, lemme tell ya. I did more push-ups in the next 30 minutes than I did all the rest of the days of Basic combined, it felt like. Let me put it this way: I was 6ft and 150lbs when I went to basic. By the time I got in the chow line that day, the sleeves of my BDUs were tight on my arms.

DS Williams, 2/47 Benning
Death Dealers


Where do I begin?

I don't have the time to type it out, but - by the end of BCT we could eat all the cake and drink all the coffee we wanted. The other company's DSs didn't even mess with us. We were that fucked up... I think they may have given up...

DS: Pvt! What Co./ platoon are you with?

ME: Bravo, 4th - Drill Sarnt!

DS: ...fuck.

ME: Death Dealers!!!

DS: ....fuck.


........Then there is BRM when I had to shoot across my lanes once I qualified. SSG right behind me after my base 23 - "shift right".... - "shift left".... had to pass two other dudes that couldn't shoot themselves.

Ahhh, those days were fun



Edit: I was once a Drill Private. Complete with NCO Kevlar for the occasion. While zeroing, someone fucked up their target and there was a big stink while we were downrange amogst the DS's about a new target... I simply suggested they use the one on the lane next to me that was closed (due to 4 feet of water in the foxhole).... yay for me!!!! Promoted to Drill Private... I need not tell you how that worked out..

Ah. . . the Summer of 1995 at RTC Great Lakes, Illinois.  "It can't be too hot there during the Summer in Chicago", thought this Jersey boy.  Holy fuckin' shit was I wrong!

From Wikipedia: The 1995 Chicago heat wave led to approximately 600 heat-related deaths over a period of five days. It is now considered to be one of the worst weather-related disasters in American history.

Actually, even though the "heat wave" only lasted five days, it was still too hot to PT according to the Navy for a few days before and a few days after the heat wave.  Of course, we more than made up for it when it cooled sufficiently to PT.  We got the shit cycled (quarterdecked / smoked) out of us at the drop of a hat.

Divisions 347 and 348 (mine) were both male, but integrated like other male / female divisions for marching, drill, classroom instruction, chow hall, etc.  It's noteworthy that during FY 1995, all recruits were trained in the manual of arms and field stripping of M16A1s.  Though we didn't march everywhere with the rifles like the Marines do, we still drilled with them.  One day, my half of Division 348 went to the squad bay of Division 347 to drill with our M16s indoors.  Whilst standing in front of racks (bunks / beds) and going through various drill commands (Right shoulder arms, port arms, order arms, parade rest, etc.) the Division 347 Recruit Division Commander (RDC) GSM1(SW) Anderson was being particularly anal.  He was dropping recruits left and right for the most minute of movements.  Some poor bastard in front of me, (we were facing each other, towards the center of the aisle of the bay) got dropped for moving a millimeter.  After he pumped-out 75 pushups, he asked for permission to recover.  "Fuck no, keep going, Recruit", belted out Petty Officer Anderson.  After awhile, Petty Officer Anderson returned our way to see this poor bastard totally drenched in sweaty dungarees.  He was clearly fatigued and was told to recover.  When the RDC asked how many pushups the recruit did, he replied 275!  Actually, he flopped onto the deck at 260 and then cranked out the final 15.  The RDC's response was something to the tune of, "Holy shit!"  Then he proceeded to keep fucking with us, but with a better eye on who he dropped.  Shortly after that, I developed a runny nose.  Not wanting to push the Earth until I died, I summoned all of my willpower to ignore the increasing snot stream.  Again, when Petty Officer Anderson came our way, he was scrutinizing every recruit for perfection.  When he got to me, he said, "Jesus, that's fuckin' disgusting!  Recruit, ground arms, go to the head and clean yourself up!"  That was a nice break.  I got to blow my snot locker, take a piss and grab a quick drink from the sink.  I may have been gone for about 90 seconds, but that was a minute and a half of sheer bliss.

I was a fat ass..... Need I say more?

I got caught drinking chocolate milk, trust me you dont want details.


I went to MCRD San Diego in April of 02,  graduated July 16.

I went in on the buddy program with a friend who was 5'4"  and about 130 lbs.  He wore a size 8 shoe.

I'm 6'3"  and was 220 lbs, and wore a size 14 EEE


Our first day with our platoon, they start tippin sea bags, since mine was right next to Rodriquez, we got some shit mixed up.

When our J hat, Sgt Hermges started counting down we got in a hurry and just grabbed shit.  Sgt Hermges came by and saw Rodriquez holdin my boots, and made them put them on and "penguin walk" around the squad bay singing the barney song.  and walkign up to recruits saying, "I'm a fucking clown, look at my big fuckin feet!!!"





Recruit tipping always made me laugh.      DI would tell us to get on line, then walk up to you and just lean towards you.   You lean back, he leans in, you lean back, he leans in until you fall the fuck over.  Then he smoked us for being stupid and falling over for no reason.


We had one recruit who told our SDI, that his band camp in high school was harder than this.                Our SDI replied, "oooooh, not anymore it aint motherfucker!!!"    He was right.



I miss it.   Wish to God I could have stayed in. I've talked to a recruiter several times since I got out, but I'm married with a kid now, and my wife would kill me if I went back......Still, it's tempting.

AK

I can't believe no one has told any stories of going to Navy boot camp in Orlando, Florida?

 At the time I went in '89 it was co-ed and the stories were plentiful about the female recruits.  They'd steal the bananas from the mess hall and they'd be found in the barracks trash cans the next morning not eaten.  Everyone of them went braless the whole time they were there and it was obvious I thought, you couldn't help but notice there boobs bouncing all over the place when they'd be marching.  I had one of them tell me that the first time she wore a bra there was during the graduation ceremony.

 Guys would go up to the third floor of the barracks, go into the shower room, stand on the wash tables and look through the air vents in the wall into the female shower room on the other side.   Guys would meet females in the empty 3rd floor bays or even on the roof and get busy.

 The E-club on base was the best place to find a young, in shape, fresh out of boot camp and hasn't had sex in two months horny female.  The hotels nearby were notorious for the drinking and mass sex that went on in them.

 Navy boot camp wasn't that hard, it was more a mind game then anything else.  I'm still amazed that some guys couldn't hack it mentally.

 

Bump. I love this thread.

Quoted: Bump. I love this thread.

A great read!

Quoted: I miss it.   Wish to God I could have stayed in. I've talked to a recruiter several times since I got out, but I'm married with a kid now, and my wife would kill me if I went back......Still, it's tempting. AK

She can't kill ya if ya aint there, son.




I went to BCT in 2004 and then to the KYARNG Traditional OCS program in 2005.

In BCT I met John Rock.  We went through BCT and OCS together as he is from Bardstown.  

He was constantly messing with the kids (I was 32 he was 33) that he would get them with his 'bayonet'.  The would be no hiding from his 'bayonet' as it has a point target range of 1000 yards.

Oddly enough, he joked about telling the TAC officers, 'You can't smoke a Rock!'  But I never heard him get stupid and actually SAY that.  I am certain that they would have worked on it until they succeeded.

We got lucky going into Phase I of OCS.  The first day is when you meet your TAC officers, out on the parade field at Ft. McClellan (now an ALARNG training center).  There were two ambulances there and not just for show as they usually had a drop rate of 2-3 per platoon during the introductory period.  It was raining and overcast, unusual for that time of the year.  I was almost disappointed that we did not get smoked better than that . . . we were only barely breathing hard.

But later that summer for the Phase III course they had 40 OC's drop with heat injuries in a single afternoon.  

We had a jerk in BCT who figured out how to go AWOL right before PT.  He hiked 7-8 miles through the woods in less than 3 hours (heavy underbrush).  We got reamed for not noticing, but he was caught when he got outside the base (Ft. Jackson).  First thing he did was to go into the convenience store just outside the gate.  Since the MP's knew the lady who worked the counter she called them as soon as he stepped out the front door.  He got only one drag on his cigarette.  

Dimwit proceeded to go AWOL 3 more times before they succeeded in sending him home, once just 2 days before he was to leave for home.  I wish they had left him with us a while longer . . . He would have tripped down the steps at least once.

I was A 2/75th.  B 2/75th had an live ND in the company area one night.  The DI's had not rodded the recruits off the range and she had failed to clear her weapon.  Doing a functions check she put a round into the ceiling, at least she got enough training to not be pointing it at someone while pulling the trigger.  We saw different DI's around their company after that.

The cycle before ours had a chick who had had some trouble with the run and had improved greatly.  While taking the final APFT she was less than 100m from the end, stepped wrong on her leg and BROKE HER FEMUR!!  She wouldn't let anyone touch her and she dragged herself across the finish with a passing time.  She was still going through PTRP while we were there.

A good friend I met there had been 11B in the early 90's, joined again and his recruiter screwed him good, putting him back through BCT.  He and I got put together for Pugil and I broke his hand (he swung at me and I blocked with my elbow).  He got a 12 week extension on his BCT in the PTRP.  I felt like crap.  But he eventually got to go to Korea like he wanted to , he was a Korean adopted by US citizens so it was a homecoming of sorts.

MSG Johnson was the most fit DI I saw in my time there, but he was not physically imposing (about 5'4").  Also, he was as mean as the day is long, but effective.  Not to mention, he was not even our DI.  But we got smoked by him more than once.

SFC Patterson was a goofy looking, 6'5" black man whose favorite threat was to stomp a mudhole through your back, stomp it dry if you pissed him off.  He thought our 9 mile ruck at the end of Victory Forge was too short.  About the time we could see the range where we would conduct our night fire drill of to the left he turned right.  We went probably 12 miles total.  

I was at Parris Island for Easter...  Well, there was a gun in my platoon named Easter.  So Drill Instructor Sgt. Thomas (looked and sounded similar to Major Payne) comes out of the DI hut and gets us on line.  We're all at attention and DI Sgt Thomas startes telling us a story.  "I remember when I was younger and it was Easter.  Easter, give me 25.  Our family was too poor for turkey so we had to eat Crow.  Crow, give me 25.  Well, we didn't have enough crow to go around,  Crow give me 25 more, so we all went to Burger King.  King give me 25."  And he went on and on and on down the line.  He got to me and paused.  Hmm  Magers, (pronounced like: Majors) Today you're lucky.  I can't think of anything.

ETA  Another kinda funny story.

We were at the rifle range and I was in the butts on lane 23.  Well, if you make a shot and the person in the butt doesn't pull your target down and mark your position you raise your hand and range O calls down to the Butt.  The guy in the shack comes over the loud speaker...  Lane 23, check your target.  You'd pull it and check for holes and mark as neccessary.

Well, on the first day of practice the guy who was shooting on target 23 either sucked or he was shooting on the wrong target.  Out of 50 rounds I know that I was called atleast 15 times.  Drill Instructors were all over my ass like stink on shit when the butt shack came over the speaker again.  Lane 23 pull your target.  I pulled the target down and 3 DIs and I were looking for a hit and couldn't find one.  I marked a miss and put the target back up.  A min later got called again and the same thing happened.  

Apparently my SDI didn't get the message that the shooter was shooting the wrong target or just flat sucked so he handed me some shit that night.  Best thing to do is just say "yes, sir or no, sir"  Don't make excuses becaue they're never wrong...  Ever.

Good times.

Magoo

Tag for the fish of it!     (Just for the halibut)

.

One of our guys tripped during a bayonet drill and skewered his foot to the ground.  He didn't finish training with our class.

I have a couple of good ones but only time for one right now.


One of our Marine DIs was running down down stairs pushing Midshipman (USN/USMC) candidates saying, "YOU ALL ARE TOO FUCKING SLOW, I CAN MOVE FASTER THAN ALL OF YOU!!!"

He then tripped and fell down a flight of stairs.



This quote was then entered into the NROTC book of, "Did They Really Say That?!"

I'll have to grab the book and post some more...

At Fort Ord we had an assistant DI that had a bad leg / limp so when we did double
time we usually didn't run too far.  So one day we're running and some moron say to
the guy next to him " this won't last long the "crip" won't keep up with us"  Sure enough
the DI is right behind him and hears it all.  

In the usual DI  language and tone he goes " you don't think I can keep up with you
maggots,  well let's see".

So they march us to a huge parking lot and have us form a circle.  The Di gets in the
center and goes " alright gentlemen lets see how many of you can out run me".  He
runs in place while we're running in a circle around him.

Then one time at the shooting range a DI gets pissed at me and my buddy next to
me in the fox hole goes to kick my helmet,  knocks the helmet off the liner and it
rolls in front of the guy next to me who blows a hole thru it with his M-16.

They made me pay $28.00 for it.  I made $90.00 a month at the time.

jb

Quoted: A friend of mine just got out of boot camp today which got me thinking about boot camp. Lets hear about your worst or funniest boot camp experience.

Had one DS who had a talent for starting forest fires...

Give that SSG a parachute flare, and we would be FOR-SURE stopping whatever training we were on to grab e-tools & canteens to put the resulting fire out...

I certainly had some oppertunities for interesting stories (like the time I got a Christmas card from President Bush during mail call (I had worked on his 04 campaign right before reporting for Basic... My parents forwarded the card to me from home)), had the things that happened came to the attention of the DS....

Quoted: UNLESS you are in OCS, in which case most of the TAC's will think it is appropriate, even though it is only for use in certain circumstances.   (the sir sandwich, I mean).

As of 04, that was a good way to get a quick -2...