July 20, 2018. Texas. United States of America.
Texas, land of the cowboys. Not as glamorous as you think. No old school western bars where so called macho men with straw hats and boots hung out as you would think.
The most notable feature of Texas, is the heat. The summer heat topped up with worsening global warming is starting to be unbearable.
"Man, it's really hot out here" said a guy around my age. His name was Dave Webb or Webber, I'm not sure although he introduced himself personally to me an hour ago.
Another guy scoffed, " You think this is hot? Try staying in Mexico for a week"
I was really sweating buckets now. I wondered why the marine corps wanted the training camp in such extreme temperature areas.
A former cop around his early twenties said, "Quit whining. It's supposed to toughen us up. Battlefield ain't gonna be no air-conditioned room"
"Double negative equals positive. So the battlefield is going to be an air conditioned room," Webb pointed out with emphasis on it.
The cop grunted and flipped him the finger.
It was back to the boring silence and I broke the ice, "How long do you think would it take for us to complete training?"
A female recruit in front of me said, " Minimum 13 weeks. Then you'll go to your MOS training which depends on which course you take"
I didn't want to look like an idiot and start asking too many stupid questions. As they say, 'there are no stupid questions, just stupid people'.
"I'm going for sniper training," Webb told me, "What about you?"
I've played enough video games to connect the dots between MOS and sniper training. So roughly, I guess MOS was the speciality training.
I shrugged and said, "I dunno, depends I guess. I've never really fired a gun"
I remember only now that Mike brought me out to a gun club once in a while when I was sixteen. But then it stopped because we had a little financial crisis which forced us to lower our monthly enjoyment budget.
The driver, a retired marine named Max hollered over,"We're reaching in 10. Use your remaining freedom wisely because you're going to lose it"
I did a quick headcount when I got onto the bus, but what really surprised me that there were more femal recruits than I originally thought.
There're 21 recruits including me. 5 of them are female. Which is a big ratio compared to what I've heard. So apparently the whole guy-dominance in the military was pretty much false.
The bus abruptly stopped and the doors opened. This really buff black man stormed onto the bus and screamed. I couldn't hear what he was saying but it was clear, 'get out of the bus'
The black man wore one of those funny tall hats the drill sergeants wore. And outside the bus, a dozen of them stood out at attention in front of even more recruits.
There were about a hundred plus recruits there sweating under the sun in a square formation.
The black sergeant was joined by another sergeant who looked part cowboy and both of them herded us into formation like sheepdogs. Very aggresive sheepdogs.
They wielded batons and weren't afraid to use them. Anybody not moving fast enough would get hit in and screamed at in the ear.
I was so busy watching the 'cowboy' sergeant terrorize a young recruit that I didn't see the black sergeant come. He hit me across the shoulder blades from behind. The force of the baton was staggering and I crumpled to the floor.
The black sergeant picked me up by the scruff of the neck and briefly, I saw his name tag. It read 'Sgt. Thorpe'. He hauled me up onto my feet to scream into my ear. I didn't know what I did wrong until I looked at my row. I was half a foot away out of the row and i didn't notice.
Imagine a dozen stereos combined at full volume with headphones on your ears. That was what it felt like when Thorpe yelled at me.
Instinctively I cringed and covered my ears. Thorpe slapped me in the back of the head which made the slap the bus driver gave me seem like a tissue hitting me powered by wind.
I staggered back into formation and stood straight though admittedly I was dizzy as hell.
Thorpe finally moved on. And the marine behind me gave me a sympathetic look. By that time, another bus from probably another state arrived. Thorpe and the sergeant who 'welcomed' my batch waited for the bus to stop before charging in. Some of the poor recruits who didn't wake it time were mercilessly beaten up and unceremoniously kicked out of the bus.
I couldn't bear to look at the poor recruits. Then I notice there were a gap between my batch and those who were already present. There was also a gap between the group beside me and those further away.
The recruits furthest away seemed to be here the longest. My clothes were already filled with sweat and theirs were thoroughly drenched wet.
After what seemed like an eternity, all the recruits arrived. From what I could see, there were 6 groups.
A major in his mid-thirties stepped up on a podium to begin his speech. "I am Major Fullerman and this is Camp Savannah. These are your sergeants who will make you better, faster, strongerand smarter into troops worthy of the Marine Corps ," he gestured to the sergeants, "And this is Medical Officer Chang and his assistant, Thomas Klin. They will be responsible for your health and you most likely be seeing them often," he pointed to two dudes in white coats.
Medical Officer Chang was a slightly plump Asian man in his mid-twenties. He unlike the rest of the staff even waved at us, smiling jovially which I found slightly creepy. His assistant Kiln was a pale guy who looked like he was just barely out of his teens.
Then, Major Fullerman continued in his motivational speech and all the good stuff about the camp's latest high-tech stuff equipment followed by our organization.
There were roughly 230 plus recruits and we're split into 6 companies. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo and Foxtrot. I'm in Delta Company's 2nd squad.
Each company has about 36 recruits, a squad would be made out of 12 recruits and a fireteam is made out of 4 recruits.
Though the math didn't add up. Our company has 33 recruits, not enough for each squad to have 12. But it was cleared out after the major explained that there were some lieutenants-in-training who's going to be our squad leader.
Basically, there are 6 companies. Each company has 3 squads. Each squad 3 fireteams which would be chosen by our squad leader.
At the end of the speech, Fullerman told us which drill sergeants were assigned to us. Sergeant Thorpe, the super buff black man and Sergeant Noel, the guy who looked like someone from the wild west. There were also two female drill sergeants who looked like they could kill someone in a heartbeat with nothing but a rubberband. Scratch the rubberband part, they look like they could kill with their bare hands.
They both gave us a tour of the camp after we ate a staple meal of rice, some chicken and assorted veggies at the parade field.
The toilets and showers which are still clean because we're the first to come and use it, the mess hall, the armory, the shooting range, the easily customizable obstacle course and last but not least, our barracks.
There are 7 barracks. 6 of them were for men and another for the women. We-men- were assigned to the barracks according to our company whereas all the women from the all of the 6 companies were assigned to the 7th barracks regardless of their company.
Thorpe opened the door for us and we slowly trooped inside. As I walked pass Thorpe, I can't help but to take the furthest amount of space possible from him.
From the outise, the barracks was a low semi-circle building. It also had a low ceiling. Inside, there were bunks lining the sides of the wall. On top of each bunk was, well another bunk. At the foot of each bunk was quite a large footlocker which resembled a treasure chest, minus the fancy gold or brass trimmings.
Noel gestured to all of us to circle around him and Thorpe.
"As the good major told you, you are going to be trained by us. We're going to break you, squeeze out every ounce of fear you have and turn you into a war ready marine. Any questions?" Noel said.
Webb raised a hand, "What's our daily schedule?"
"Get ready, then physical training, clean up, lunch, shooting range, physical training, some shit or another you have to learn, dinner, clean up, free time and sleep. Any more questions?"
"You also have your Sundays off. But you still have to do half your training which means minus morning PT and variable classes," Thorpe added.
A guy in the back asked, "What variable classes do variable classes include?"
Thorpe moved to the guy who said that. Instinctively, everyone parted to get out of harms way.
"What's your name son?"
"Littman. Robert Littman," the guy said.
Thorpe swung a right hook at Littman. Incredibly, he ducked and dodged it. Before he could exclaim, Thorpe twisted his swinging arm to elbow to the back of the Littman's head.
"Do not talk to me before I give you permission. Sergeant Noel asked you, but I didn't," he screamed into Littman's ear. Littman mumbled something in reply and Thorpe demanded to hear it.
"OK! Fine, I asked Noel then," Littman shouted back. He received a knee to the stomach and bent double in pain.
"First of all, do not try to be a smart ass and wise talk me," Thorpe sent a uppercut to him knocking him backward a few feet. "Second, it's not Noel. It's Sergeant Noel!" Thoroe actually screamed the last few words before kicking Littman in the balls.
All of us excluding the sergeants and poor Littman cringed. Littman however was on the floor howling and clutching his family jewels.
"Any questions?" Thorpe said with a fake smile. No one made a sound.
"OK. Sleeping arrangements are up to you. That's part of the intelligence training," Noel said. Which was pretty much a well covered insult at our intelligence once you think about it.
I took a bunk on the lower level partly because I wasn't very comfortable to heights.
Webb approached me, "Uhh, can I take this bunk? All of the bottom ones are taken,"
When he saw my are-you-kidding-me-expression, he added "I don't like heights,"
I told him I didn't as well but he was insistent. So I just let him have it. I took the bunk on top which surprisingly wasn't that high up. At least I won't have to worry about hitting my head on the bottom of the top bunk now.
The doors of the barracks were flung opened and I held back a sigh. Barely 5 minutes ago the sergeants left. Now they were back. They brought bags with them.
Noel said, "We're keeping your stuff. Everything you brought from home including pictures ," he and Thorpe started handing out bags. "Though spectacles and allergy medcine are yours to keep," he added.
Begrudgingly and reluctantly, we put our stuff into the bags and handed them to the two sergeants. I bet no one dared to sneak anything away after we saw what happened to Littman.
"Lights our in 20, don't make us punish you all," Thorpe said.
"Goodnight men," Noel said. We turned around, heading back to our bunks.
"I said goodnight," Noel repeated much louder.
Knowing what we had to do, we turned around and said, "Goodnight sir," This time we waited for them to leave before daring to turn our backs on them.
As the doors shut behind the sergeants, you could almost hear relieved sighs.
I climed up the short ladder onto my bunk and opened the footlocker suspended near my feet.
Inside, there were five pairs of fatigues, sweatshirts and underwear. A towel, toothbrush, deodorant and comb were also present. There was a small compartment in the top right corner and when I opened it, there was a pair of safety glasses and ear buds.
There was a clock on the end of the barracks and it read 9.48pm. Still 12 minutes to go.
The former cop I recognize from the bus called for all Delta's 2nd squad to come around.
Ex-cop introduces himself as Rick Holmes and asked everyone to introduce themselves for a better bonding which he hopes will improve our teamwork.
A big guy, maybe around six feet told us he was Henry Matkavoc. He looked friendly enough but when he told us he was an amateur MMA middleweight fighter, everyone shied away from him.
Next in line, there was a short guy named Blake Hesser. Like around five three short. He was a car mechanic until his crew ran out of buisness.
A man in his early thirties is John Stanley. Happily arried and has 2 kids.
Finn Rodgers a dark rather handsome looking guy was a typical unemployed guy who joined the marines.
A pale fellow was halfway introducing himself when someone yelled "Shit! 2 minutes left. Everyone get back on the bunks,". I looked at the clock, it was just a little over a minute. And I scrambled back to my top bunk.
Just in time when a guy switched off the lights and the sergeants came bursting in. The poor guy hasn't gotten to his bunk so he settled by hiding in the shadows.
One of the sergeants switched on the lights. The guy shrunk under the first bottom bunk and wasn't discovered. I looked his bunk and saw that it was messy and the sheets were crumpled together. The pillow was under the sheets and gave the impression that someone slept under the sheets.
The sergeants left the barracks without a sound. The guy under the bunk crept back to his bunk. Some guys even patted him on the back for his quick actions to remain unseen.
I faced the ceiling and closed my eyes. Before I knew it, blessed sleep took me.