"Go Beavers Go"!

One thing the drill instructors hate is to lose their bearing. For thirteen weeks they try very hard to stay focused, hard, and balls to the wall. Sometimes however, if the recruit is the right person and has the right sense of humor they
can get them to laugh in front of the whole platoon.

I was fortunate enough to get Sergeant Yoshida to lose his bearing on one occasion. It was mail call which was one of our greatest enjoyments. At least it was for me. I did not have a girl writing me other than my mom and sisters but I enjoyed the letters none the less.

On this particular occasion we were all sitting Indian style on the floor waiting and hoping for our names to be called. I know some recruits did not really get mail and that must have been a difficult thing for them to sit through.

On this particular night we would get some laughs out of it. Sergeant Yoshida was calling names and then stopped all of a sudden and said, "Who is from Beaver, Utah."

I jumped to my feet and said, "Here sir."

"Get up here Gent." he barked. I ran to the front and stood at attention facing the other recruits. "Give us a cheer for your high school that the cheerleaders used to use" he demanded.

"Aye, aye sir" came my reply. For a second or two I hesitated because I could not think of one. I finally yelled, "Go beavers go." The whole platoon erupted in laughter including Sergeant Yoshida. It was hilarious. He demanded that I go sit down. He was was laughing but tried to cover it up.

Prayers

In boot camp I slept on the top rack. I shared the two bed rack with a recruit named Jason Cook. He spoke in his sleep a lot and often woke me up. He seemed to be pretty traumatized, at least in his sleep, from the stresses of boot camp. It seemed as if he was reliving the previous days torture every night while he slept. This was to the chagrin of the recruits trying to sleep around him because he was so loud with the, "Aye, Aye sir[s]" and the "Yes [and] No Sir[s]"that he often woke those closest to him up while seeming to sleep soundly.

Sometimes we threw stuff at him or the fire watch would shake him to get him to shut up. If it hadn't been so funny to listen to him and some of the dramatic things he said we might have killed him. He was as funny awake though as he was asleep and it was fun to be stationed with him the entire 4 years I was enlisted.

I had no where to say my prayers privately so I said them every night as I lay in my rack. Often times I would fall asleep saying them but at least I said them. Being in very humble circumstances helped me get closer to God. Church every Sunday was a 3 hour life saver and breath of fresh air. We did have group prayer every night which I led. Anyone wanting to could join a religious circle and share scriptures, say prayers and talk about God. We got about 15 minutes for that every evening before the lights were out and we were required to be in our racks. I enjoyed sharing my LDS faith with recruits not of my faith and I enjoyed learning about other's faiths.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsB0-x5Ke-M

One night I had a recruit come to me with a sore throat as sore as they come. He was a solid recruit and very dedicated and was not looking for excuses to get out of anything. He feared bringing it up to the drill instructors because he did not want to look like a softy. I didn't blame him. One could often make their lives much harder by claiming an injury or a sickness so most of us just sucked it up. He was desperate though. He could not speak, swallow, or talk and was almost to tears because his throat hurt so badly.

It was an opportunity to give a priesthood blessing to a nonmember and thanks to my father I knew what to do. I gave him a blessing and then had the inspiration to tell him to drink as much water as he possible could. He drank a lot that night and the next morning his sore throat was gone. The blessing had worked and he was extremely grateful for my faith.

It has been an amazing blessing in my life to have prayer. Thank you Heavenly Father for making a way for me to be able to communicate with you on a personal basis.

Talking in Third person

When you get to boot camp you are thrown into an environment with dudes who come from all walks of life. We are brown, black, white, gang members, farm boys, city slickers, and anything else you can imagine. After about 2 or 3 weeks you start to forget where the other guys come from, or what they look like and start caring more about building a team and thriving in chaos. We stop caring about ourselves so much and start lifting each other up.

(This picture was taken during the battle for Fallujiah in Iraq. These two Marines ran out to save a comrade who had been shot. One of the Marines who ran to grab him was killed in the process as you can see him laying face down the the left in the last picture on the screen.)

There is always going to be the 10% that slip through the cracks and could care less about the team, but for the most part becoming a Marine requires selflessness. I am not claiming that I am perfect at being selfless nor was I perfect being such in the Marine Corps. I definitely had my moments of looking out for number 1 and I am sure most Marines can relate, but we were a band of brothers and brothers take care of each other.

One tactic they use in boot camp to assist us in breaking the selfishness mentality is to talk in third person. For 12 weeks we are not allowed to talk in first person. The only acceptation is when recruits talk to each other during our limited "free time" in the evening in the squad bay.

I don't know how it was for other recruits but even after 12 weeks of talking like this I still had trouble being perfect at it. It was often a tongue twisting experience and when you are engaging with a drill instructor, a civilian, or a commissioned officer where you are nervous anyway and you screw up the third person language you usually suffer some stiff consequences. You at least get made fun of a little. I appreciated being able to talk normal again when that time came.

A few phrases might include:

"This recruit requests permission to speak with drill instructor Sergeant Jones sir."

"This recruit requests permission to use the head sir."

"Recruit Gent requests permission to run back to the squad bay to grab his pack sir."

Sometimes they were a lot more complicated than this but this gives you an idea.

(This video is pretty chaotic but hilarious at least to those who have been there. The novice won't really understand what's going on.) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkxkNcHajyw

I guess after boot camp I became bilingual. I always wanted to speak another language.

Fat Body

There is are minimum criteria for being allowed to ship out for USMC boot camp. You have to be under a certain weight, although not necessarily in shape, and you have to be able to do 2 pull ups, 44 crunches, and run 1.5 miles in under 13:30 minutes. Even some really skinny guys have trouble doing this.

Skinny guy getting screamed at for running slow:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNBgKjLWVcw

If you pass these minimum requirements you get to ship out. If you are still overweight you get two red marks across your white PT shirt and are called a "fat body" your entire stay at the recruit depot even if you drop tons of weight as almost all who are "fat bodies" do. It's hard not to when they make you sweat relentlessly and feed you only skinless chicken and a scoop of rice for every meal. I had buddies lose 30 and 40 pounds in a 13 week period. That's an amazing diet program if you ask me.

I entered above par and not a fat body but by the end I had gained 20 pounds of fat. I was really into the weight room before I entered boot camp and so the PT was actually a step down for me. Plus my father and step-mother were vegetarians so I entered boot camp extremely ripped. I was 6' and 180 pounds. I came out 6'2" and 200 pounds and off balance because of the new weight. Rapid fat gain is much harder to get used to than rapid muscle gain. I've experienced both.

In the chow hall I would grab 6 to 10 pieces of bread with packets of syrup and eat them together as quick as I could along with the other food I was given to curb my hunger. I did not know at the time the danger of sugar and bread combinations. I just ate as much as I could.

I was also told by my now ex-brother-in-law that the military puts saltpeter in the food at boot camp. The claim is that it creates erectile disfunction in men. I am not sure if this was true but for 13 weeks it worked for me.

After boot camp, and I was allowed to lift weights again, I would gain 15 to 20 more pounds but transformed almost the entire 40 into muscle. In 1 year I went from 6' and 180 pounds to 6'2" and 220 pounds. My Physical fitness tests were better than when I was 180 pounds because I was so much stronger. Every physical fitness test I ever took in eight years in the Marine Corps was a first class PFT.

My highest was a 293 out of 300 and my lowest was a 245 out of 300. Most of the time I was in the range of 275 to 285. I could almost always do 20 pull ups and my strategy was that if you could do 20 pull ups you could walk the three mile run and still get a first class PFT. I always ran but the point is that if you could do pull ups you had it made. It always worked for me.

Believe it or not this is me near the end of my senior year and me with my future wife Ami at her graduation 3 years later. They were the closest pics I could find to each other of the difference in my physical change. I achieved these results in probably 1 to 2 years of going to boot camp.

Motivating team effort:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMP_--8mSJg

Pee Pee In My Big Boy Pants

The DI’s loved to play games with us to cause stress and chaos as I mentioned before. I learned to enjoy and love them. They were very entertaining at times. After we lost initial drill, as a result of my poor leadership, we were IT’ed in the sand and then brought inside where the DI’s instructed us to take the lock off of our foot lockers, grab our valuable possession bags which contained things like mail stamps, my scriptures, and an address book, and dump the rest in the middle of the squad bay. When 88 recruits dump their footlockers in one pile it gets pretty big. All our belongings were meshed together in the middle of the squad bay. 

After dumping our “trash” into one pile we put our footlockers back in front of our racks and stood at attention. Keep in mind that it took about 20 seconds for all 88 of us to empty the footlockers while being harassed by the DI demons. After all the recruits were back at their footlockers and at the position of attention the DI's instructed us that we had 20 seconds to grab what we could and put it into our footlockers, lock them, and be back at attention. 

When they said, “move” we all rushed to the pile and started grabbing anything and everything we could not knowing who’s belongings we were grabbing. I think I ended up with several shirts but no socks or underwear. We had stamped everything with our names so later we were able to trade among ourselves until we at least had some of everything. I did not get everything back that was mine and later on in the cycle I saw a recruit wearing my sweat shirt. He would not give it back to me. I am assuming that it was the only one he had. They had issued us 2 so I still had one.  It took a few days to trade back the items we had collected. 

Another game they liked to play and to punish us with was drinking water. They made us drink a full canteen of water, which was 32oz, every night before we hit the rack. This ensured that peeing twice a night for me was a guarantee. I never realized how important water really was until boot camp. One day I had a very sore throat that made swallowing torture. I decided to drink twice as much water as they made us drink and within a day my sore throat was gone. Since then I almost never get sore throats and if I do it is because of something sugary I ate, but chugging water takes care of the problem within 24 hours every time. For some reason my mother tried to teach me growing up that drinking coke would help but I believe that’s a bunch of crap. Water solves the problem for me. 

Anyway, on one particular night we were being punished for something I don’t remember and so as punishment, I believe it was Sergeant Jones, made us drink our first full canteen. After turning the canteen upside down over our heads to ensure all 88 were empty he made us run to the head and fill both our canteens. We came back and stood at attention in front of our racks. He then commanded us to drink canteen #2 after which we turned them upside down over our heads. Immediately he made us drink #3. It took some a lot longer to finish than others and I managed to only get a few drips on my head after turning it upside down. 

When all were finished, I could tell by looking at the other recruits that some of them were feeling pretty bloated. I guess we all were but some of us had much smaller stomachs than others. Sergeant Jones then barked the order to once again go fill up our canteens. It appeared that he was going to make us drink at least 5. As we were wobbling to the head with the 3 quarts of water storage in our guts two recruits barfed up 3 quarts of water plus dinner in the middle of the squad bay. It was enough to change the course of the night and prevent us from drinking anymore. 

I was not excited at the prospect of having to pee half a dozen times that night because I grew up believing that if you did not get at least eight hours of sleep at night it was unhealthy. I still needed to be broken of my addiction to sleep. In the Marine Corps they teach you that sleep is a crutch of which I believe whole heartedly now. It is anyway, when you can’t function. Sleep deprivation is more psychological than anything else. I believe the body needs sleep to repair and recover, but not at the expense of others or your sanity. One can learn to overcome the sleep myth. 

I am not sure if it was the night I drank 3 canteens or a different night but I ended up peeing my rack as I slept. I was extremely tired and well hydrated and did not wake up one night. I am grateful it woke me up in the middle of the night. It gave me a chance to cover it with a pair of cammies, change my underwear and shirt, get a little sleep, and cover it up in the morning. I just made my rack in the morning as usual and told nobody. I did not want a nickname handed to me like “pee wee” or “Pee brain” or maybe “recruit pisser.” The next night it was all dry and we got to wash our sheets every Thursday which was only a couple days away.  

By The Numbers

I did not realize I could pee so fast or pee with 6 to 7 other recruits in one urinal at the same time. When we got to boot camp we had to do everything fast and that included peeing and pooping. One learned real quick to hold number 2 until either the lights were out or during our 1 hour of free time before hitting the rack. We did not get this free time for the first 2 or 3 weeks of boot camp though and it was not unheard of for recruits to hold off going crap for 2 weeks. I personally do not know how that is possible but apparently it is.

What made it worse was that there were no doors on the stalls. The drill instructors and other recruits needed to see what was going on to make sure no one was up to any mischief. There was no privacy in boot camp accept what was going on inside your head.

In boot camp we called it "Doing it by the numbers" which meant that everything was done while the drill instructors counted and nothing was done without the exact instruction first. It was like playing Simon Says but more appropriately DI says. For the first several days we played DI says when we were in the shower, putting on our cloths, or doing anything really.

From applying soap to each body part, to rinsing off, to putting on our boots we did not move unless told to. I learned after the first time in the shower, that I was only going to put a little soap on the vitals because they never gave you enough time to rinse it all off. The first night after Black Friday I slept with dried soap all over my body but I learned my lesson.

As far as peeing goes, they would give us head breaks every so often but would give us little time to accomplish peeing. Sometimes, because of lack of time, you did not get to pee. One had to force their way into the urinal and even pee between someone else's legs while half squatting to ensure you did not miss out on emtying your bladder. Some recruits would get real mad that someone was peeing in the urinal between their legs but there was no other option sometimes. I would always make room for another penis because I hoped others would do the same for me in a peeing emergency.

I heard from my recruiters and others who had been through it that if you asked permission as a recruit to use the head as an individual a DI may or may not allow you to, but if you said, "This recruit asks permission to make an emergency head call sir" they would consider it vitally important and let you to it. We learned real fast that this was a myth. We had a few recruits try it and all that happened was that the DI being asked would tell the recruit to run around the squad bay making siren sounds. When this happened the ridiculous nature of the matter always made us laugh and those caught laughing would be commanded to report to the quarter deck and do pushups until our arms nearly fell off.

Sometimes it was worth laughing because even the DI's would laugh then punish us for making them laugh. The humor of a lot of boot camp actually made the torment fun at times. It was so fun for me to sound off as loud as I could. I developed such a loud voice that it was rare I could find my match. To this day I am extremely loud when I want to be.

When we screwed up as a platoon we would have what freedoms we did have taken away for a time but for the most part after the first 2 or 3 weeks we were not forced to take showers or get dressed "by the numbers." The DI's counted down the entire 13 weeks when we needed to do something or go somewhere but as far as taking showers and getting dressed we were given the luxury of doing it our way after the first few weeks as long as we made it on time.

We had this Chinese recruit in our platoon who refused to take a shower after he was force to by the DI's the first few weeks because he did not want to be naked with 87 other recruits during our 1 hour of free time given to us most evenings. A DI came up to a group of us and had a quiet talk with us about this recruit. He told us that so and so stunk really bad and would not take a shower.

He informed us that he was not allowed to put his hands on him but something needed to be done about it. He did not tell us to but we got the hint and told the DI that we understood. I was not part of the shower squad, but after this kid was stripped down and thrown into the shower by 5 or 6 of his peers he never had a problem taking a shower on his own. Sometimes tough love is the best answer.

Quote of the Day: 

Socrates said,

"The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new."

Producing "Dogs From Hell"

My father, who had been in the National Guard for 12 years, told me many times before I joined the Marines that "you just have to play their games" when referring to drill instructors. I would not fully understand, until I joined the second time in 2007, that the so called "games" the Marine Corps plays with you are not games at all. My perspective was different then because going to war was guaranteed. When I joined in 1997 there was no war. Sure there were threats around the globe but besides the occasional humanitarian mission or special forces operation most of the U.S. military was doing their best to limit the twiddling of thumbs as much as possible.

I now fully understand that Marine Corps Drill Instructors, and the equivalent in the other services, have a method to their madness. They are training us for the stresses of combat. I will never claim that my combat experience was that difficult. There have been plenty that have gone before, at the same time, and after me that have had to deal with much worse. Many have had to see their comrades die, be blown to peices, or sleep every night with a constant barrage of looming death and destruction.

I never had to deal with a dead Marine directly or deal with a comrade's limbs being blown off. I am fortunate that way, but I did experience combat and many of the stresses it causes. Maybe it was not so difficult for me because of the difficult training I went through. That is the likely scenario considering some of the civilians that went on patrol with me in Afghanistan.

It was laughable to see the fear in their eyes at the idea of getting shot at. There is nothing wrong with these people and I loved getting to know them. They were quality individuals. However, the bureaucracy that is the U.S. government, in their infant wisdom, had too many restrictions and too many NGO's making decisions. This resulted in untrained and scared shitless civilians being attached to Marine units trying to fulfill their missions. I will share many more of these experiences in posts later on.

Marine Corps drill instructors have to work with nasty civilians who want to be Marines. According to the Marine Corps the definition of discipline is: instant and willing obedience to all orders. In combat this means that when shit hits the fan a Marine will throw the shit right back and then follow it to kill the shit slinger. We are trained to run toward the gunfire and kill whatever is sending bullets our way. This is not possible unless we are trained to stare chaos in the face and yell right back at it. If we cannot follow orders instantly how can we be effective in war? We can't. 

This video is awesome!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckVNNF2khng

In other words, when a drill instructor assaults you, you have the confidence to yell right back at him and you don't back down. I am not saying we should have assaulted the drill instructors. To the contrary, we needed to show them proper respect, but as mentors they expect that their hard work will produce a team member that has confidence to the point of arrogance so that when combat faces that team and each Marine, each member will conquer their fear and fight like a "Devil Dog."

Marines were given this nick name by the Germans in WWI because of their ferocity. In German it is "Teufel Hunden," or dog from hell. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devil_Dog. This is what the Marine Corps hopes to turn us into.

The louder you yelled back and the more motivation you accepted your punishment with the less the the DI's devoured you. The Marine Corps wants to produce bad asses to put it truthfully. A drill instructor loves nothing more than a recruit who shows the proper respect to authority but is also fearless in the face of it.

Dissolving the weakness and individuality out of a bunch of civilians is no easy task. These drill instructors often go on little to no sleep for three months at a time for 3 to 4 years straight with the occasional, albeit short, hiatus so that America can produce the greatest fighting force on the planet. These drill instructors are animals and terminators if there ever were any. I would like to personally thank all Drill Instructors and Sergeant Instructors for the "good training" they provided me. I am in debt forever to you and your dedication to me saved my butt more than once.

Another good one!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNBgKjLWVcw

My father believed that they were "games." I stopped believing that myth when I was given that Eagle, Globe and Anchor at the end of the crucible in January of 1998 although I would not understand their methods until 2007 when I went to Officer Candidate School. There is nothing fun about seeing a Marine die or be seriously wounded and because of these "games" I never had to experience that first hand.

Fire Watch

In the Marine Corps there is always someone awake watching for trouble. In Afghanistan we always had 5 Marines awake at all times to protect our platoon ready to kill if threatened, but when war is not the case there is usually 2 Marines awake for every unit. I will get into Afghanistan in maybe a year or two when I get to that point in my career. In boot camp it was per platoon, in the fleet it was 2 per company, and in the field it was 2 per company usually.

In boot camp we always had two recruits awake at all times. One would be posted at each entrance of the the squad bay. Each recruit on fire watch had three foot lockers stacked so they could double as a table we could stand behind. We were not allowed to sit while on fire watch. The only activities we were allowed was reading from our Marine "knowledge," shine our boots, or work on uniforms. We were not supposed to write letters but I did it all the time. Some DI's did not care and we were all willing to take that risk because letters were the only connection we had to the outside world and we cherished them.

Every 30 minutes one of the fire watch recruits would do a "round" or do a check around the squad bay to ensure no one was committing suicide, stealing someone else's stuff, trying to run away, or whatever else could happen. We even did laundry for the other recruits.

It seemed like there was at least one recruit a day who screwed up enough to deserve two fire watches in one night. To make it worse they would make this recruit have the second fire watch and the second to last fire watch so that they would get a lot of broken sleep. By the rules the lights had to be off for 8 hours a night at boot camp. However, they made us drink so much water, I would wake up 3 or 4 times to pee, and punished us enough with double fire watch that there was plenty of sleep deprivation to go around.

When a recruit gets caught off guard.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NBtHUDMsXs

My favorite was when a drill instructor would come "on deck" through one of the "hatches," or doors, requiring the fire watch to announce that someone of authority had entered the room.

"Good evening sir. Drill instructor Sergeant Jones on deck," a recruit might say. If we said it like that all would be well for the most part and the drill instructor would go to the drill instructor quarters and let the fire watch be. Often times though, the hatch would swing open by surprise and this would catch us off guard and twist our tongues.

"Good afternoon sir. Sergeant Jones reporting as ordered" may be the address. As the result of a screw up like this the drill instructor might start yelling at the recruit to get it correct. Of course this would make most recruits stutter and they would suck even more at showing the proper respect. The yelling match back and forth would wake up the other 86 recruits trying to sleep leading to even more sleep neglect and a guarantee that falling asleep during classes was sure.

This is a video when a fire watch improperly reports.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIcKzvbKYPg

The worst thing you could do was to say nothing when a Marine stepped on deck. Remember that we were not Marines until we graduated. Until then we were the maggots of the earth or recruits.

This Marine gets obliterated by not acknowledging his Captain when he enters the squad bay.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJoeGvn6MAY

Even though having fire watch was hard on sleep I appreciated the solitude when I had fire watch anywhere between 0000 hours, or midnight, and 0300 because it was usually dead quiet and I could experience some solitude. The other 21 hours of the day was filed with either limited sleep or continuous chaos. Although I enjoyed some of the chaos, it's continuous assault made me appreciate some quiet when I got it.

One thing about the Marine Corps, for me at least, was that it made me appreciate life so much more. So much in fact that I miss it often because of the humility it automatically instilled in my life. When I joined up again in 2007 I had a wife and two daughters and it truly made me appreciate life. I will write about my family in a few years, but even for a single 19 year old kid it still provided plenty of solemn experiences.

Fire watch was not the most comfortable experience and after being the guide, and now that I was well known as a result of that position, I was awarded quite often with the privilege. I could not stay out of the spot light. The good news was that after 4 weeks in, and being fired from my billet, my headache was gone and it supercharged me to turn on the Troy I knew I was. I was a motivated stud who could make people laugh, make them pumped, and I was not afraid to make even the Drill Instructors lose their bearings and laugh.

Quote of the Day: "

The Guide

In boot camp they have something called “Intensive Training” or IT. I have spoken a little about it before in previous posts but I never had much of it happen to me until I became the guide. On a particular day maybe two weeks into boot camp, maybe around my birthday which is October 28^th, the drill instructors had us sit behind our footlockers to fill out a questionnaire.

Marine being IT'ed
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ImRURFiQ-I)

Footlockers are what we kept most of our possessions in. They are about 4 feet long, 18 inches high, and 18 inches wide. We also had wall lockers for our dress uniforms but for the most part, all we had was stuffed away inside our foot lockers. They doubled as a table so we could sit Indian style behind them and clean our rifles, write letters, fill out questionnaires, or just sit on them to shine our boots. Who knew you could do so much with just a foot locker. From the beginning the Marines taught us to do amazing things with so little. This is just one more reason the Corps is the greatest fighting force on the planet save American special forces units. 

The questinaire they had us fill out was basically a quiz on the way our minds worked when it came to leadership. I filled out the questionnaire honestly, not suspecting it would lead to a leadership role. I don’t remember what the questions were and I do not remember my answers but after we were done we sat at attention and waited for them to collect them. 

Within 20 or 30 minutes I was told to report to the “quarterdeck” which was at the front of the squad bay and adject the the DI’s quarters. I was asked if I wanted to be the guide and not wanting to show any fear I said, "Yes sir." They gave me the guidon, or platoon flag, fired the other guide, switched racks and set me to it. Of course I was clueless on what I was supposed to do. To tell you the truth I was scared to death. I had only been there two weeks and had not really made many friends so no one respected me and to tell you the truth I had been raised by parents who were both push overs so I had inherited that. I grew up learning to be a push over.

Being soft and weak willed did not fit well with being a leader in the greatest fighting force in the world. When I was my fun, rambunctious self I was a fantastic leader and people looked up to me. I had proved that running for student body president and during my senior year as student body president. However, as I had learned with my principle in high school, when the pressure was on and I felt like I had to conform to a certain mold my leadership skills turned to disaster. This is exactly what happened when I became the guide. My go getter, high energy, motivated personality disappeared and I became anything but an effective guide.

The first week was pretty mellow. The guide before me had been ruthlessly hounded by the DI's, but it seemed like they had all but forgotten about me the first week. I was not sure what was going on but was grateful that things were going relatively smooth in this life altering environment. However, it was like the flick of a switch when week one ended that they unleashed hell on me. I mean they beat the living hell out of me figuratively speaking. I could not do one thing right and honestly I don't think I did do many things right. I was trying too hard to do it the way they wanted me to instead of letting my natural leadership abilities manifest themselves. 

I was a very loud, energetic and motivated kid and I think that would have been the case as a guide had it not been for the shots. Whether it was the broken back giving me headaches or the multitude of shots that made me sick the migraine headache I had the entire time I was the guide literally prevented me from doing much in the way of sounding off or motivation let alone leading. To say the least, it was the hardest two week of my life up to that point. 

We had initial drill four weeks into boot camp and two weeks into my guide billet. The platoon, under my watch, got last place. Our drill instructors were furious and most of all furious with me. They took the whole platoon to the "sand pit" and IT'ed us. The sand pit was the worst place to be IT'ed because of the sand. We were IT'ed for a while until we were soaking wet from the sweat and covered in sand. After they had their fun with us they trashed me and my squad leaders some more and then fired me. 

This video is on initial drill
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYa-Vs98eRU)

I remember feeling a relief of stress when I went back to what Marines call General Population or GP but also a sense of disappointment that I had not done a better job. I felt both grateful and sad. The good thing was that through my exposure as as a guide I did manage to earn some respect and make some friends. We were now 4 weeks into it and everyone knew my name and knew who I was. Just by surviving the guide billet for that long I had gained respect from both drill instructors and recruits. The rest of boot camp would be easy comparatively speaking. 

Quote of the Day: 

New To Leadership

Being the guide was not my first taste of leadership. I was voted in as the student body president at the end of my junior year of high school and so my entire senior year of high school I had the privilege of serving with a principle that did not like me all that much or at least the way I acted. In Beaver, Utah I was an outsider and in a small town that seems to be a problem.

In the following video the guide is the one with the guidon or the flag. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3f-JPZWYN8

I attended Beaver High School half of my freshman year and lived with my father but hated it because I got bullied by the Beaverite kids so I moved down to St. George, Utah for the remainder of that year and my sophomore year. In St. George I became very wild and had lots of rebellious fun. This included running over garbage cans, pooping in vending machines and lighting bags of poo on fire on one particular doorstep. I had to do work ours for the last two. I was having fun but lacked discipline.

The summer before my junior year I decided I needed a male role model and so I moved back with my father to Beaver, but I also brought the fun with me which threw the small town of Beaver for a loop. People, teachers and students alike soon learned who Troy Gent was and the kids in the high school loved it. I went from being bullied to being loved by the Beaver, Beavers. So much in fact that I beat the most popular girl in school, Macy Gillians, for the role of Student Body President.

The principle knew that he was in for a long year starting after summer break. He already had a long year dealing with this now infamous kid who yelled in the hall, without warning would kiss girls he thought were "hot," threw wet toilet paper at teacher's chalkboards, would act like Happy Gilmore when he got angry, and just made the whole school excited about being there. I definitely had the most school spirit.

With a leadership role I tended to give up some of my personality freedom and was stressed out somewhat. I was lectured by our principle a few times on the importance of setting a good example. The sad part was that I never did anything terribly wrong at Beaver High School. I was just an energetic, fun kid. I liked everyone, got along with everyone, never drank alcohol in high school or did any drugs.

I liked girls of course. So much so that I attended a nude bar in Las Vegas after a Metallica concert in January of 1997, but besides that and the occasional drive by moonings and toilet paperings, I never did anything terribly wrong. I just loved having fun.When it came down to it, I just did not know what leadership felt like and it's a weight I had to get used to bearing.

About 2 weeks into boot camp the drill instructors made us sit down at our foot lockers to fill out a leadership questionnaire on how we would lead if given the responsibility. Apparently I filled out the paperwork better than 88 other recruits or at least it was what they were looking for. I thought boot camp had been pretty stressful so far but I had no idea what was in store for me as I accepted the guide billet. 

Quote of the Day: 

Sir Winston Churchill said, "Success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winston_Churchill

"Mommy's Not Here To Make Your Bed"

One of the first things our drill instructors taught us was how to make a rack. In the civilian world we call it a bed, but call it a bed in boot camp and your likely to get a pit bull in your face or as Marines call ourselves, a devil dog. We learned real quick to call it a rack instead.

(This talk by a navy seal admiral is awesome and explains why it's so important for us to make our racks in the morning.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxBQLFLei70)

At one point on “Black Friday” the DI's barked at us to sit around the guides rack. The guide is the recruit who is currently leading his peers. He is chosen by the DI's and is given the responsibility to answer for everyone in the platoon. Only a few get this brutal privilege of filling the billet and yes I was one of those fortunate ones who did. I will share that experience in a future post. 

They  gave us about 10 seconds to be seated Indian style on the floor, kneeling or standing. It may have taken us 3 to 4 attempts because of their twisted counting method and because we were not fast enough yet. I figured either the DIs had not gone to school to learn to count or that it was a tactic to ensure they won when they wanted to. Either way we got used to moving faster and faster in order to learn to move with a sense of urgency. 

After settling onto our butts, knees or feet two DI's showed us once what they expected of us when making our racks. They wanted the sheets to fold at 45 degrees on all corners as well as the blanket. They also wanted it to be as tight as we could get it and the standard was whether or not one could bounce a quarter off of the fold in the upper third of the rack. We were allowed one blanket on our racks and were allowed to only use one at night. For us tall folk a 5’ blanket was not long enough to cover our feet so during the winter in San Diego I often woke up to cold feet. 


What made it worse was that they required us to keep the windows open at night to help circulation because there were a lot of sick recruits at any one time and the drill instructors demanded ventilation in our cramped squad bay. Couple that with the already demanding sleep deprivation and taller recruits woke up from cold feet more often than shorter wannabees. It was just another comfort courtesy of MCRD San Diego and the Marine Corps. 

I talked a little bit about being thrashed, or IT'ed in a previous post. This is what it looks like for you novices. Click on the links below and enjoy! 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwQPJu228Kg

www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgI5CMPWmXk

Quote of the Day: Navy Seal Admiral William H. McRaven said, "Never ring the bell."

Black Friday!!!

My recruiter warned me that at one point during receiving week the DIs would try and intimidate me into disclosing my deepest, darkest secrets. He told me that if it was not on my criminal record that I need not disclose it. When this moment came on day 5 of receiving I was pretty paranoid that they would find out about the tennis ball bomb Daniel Decker and I had gotten in trouble for. This incident never went on my record and therefore there was no evidence of it. At the time I was a paranoid person like my mother, and so when they told the room of 300 or more recruits that if we did not disclose our secrets they would find out I was ready to raise my hand. 

The words of my recruiter kept resonating in my head however, and I did not want to take the chance I would be kicked out of boot camp so I kept it to myself. They never found out and so I stayed. Even if they had, I doubt anything would have happened because I was not considered a criminal because of it. After this interrogation we were led to a squad bay where we would live for the next 12 plus weeks and told to sit and wait. We were required to sit “Indian style” every time we sat on the floor for the entire 13 weeks. This was to help us get used to firing in the sitting position with our M-16 rifles. After 30 minutes or more at a time it would become pretty uncomfortable but it helped us with flexibility. 

We knew that we were about to meet our permanent drill instructors and the anticipation was killing all 88 of us. At this point I was just beginning to meet the other recruits and learing their names. As Marines we call each other by our last names and that starts in boot camp. Most platoons get 3 drill instructors but we were lucky enough to get 5. This meant that we would get almost double the torture because there were more of them to find discrepencies. They came out and stood at attention in front of us as they were introduced. Once the order was given for the senior drill instructor, who was a sergeant but would be promoted to staff sergeant during our cycle, to take over all hell broke loose. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qr18XK8qgPU) 

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYkgpDqkGRY)

Besides all the screaming from the instructors we had our whole barracks transformed as if a tornado had hit a trailer park. Our belongings were dumped, our racks were overturned, recruits were doing pushups and other exercises all over the squad bay. It was as if WWIII had erupted right inside our little home. It was comical really and quite enjoyable for me. It was really hard not to laugh about it all but I managed to maintain my bearing and endure the fun. As a recruit boot camp become pretty easy for me and fairly enjoyable. I got three meals a day, got a paycheck, had a roof over my head, and got to deal with tons of chaos. I was actually pretty sad when I graduated 13 weeks later because I realized that I had to start making decisions for myself again.    

My drill instructor’s names were Senior Drill Instructor Staff Sergeant Oxner, Sergeant Yoshida, Sergeant Jones, Sergeant Vargas, and Sergeant Felder. I liked all of them but had the most respect for Sergeant Yoshida. I don’t think my senior drill instructor liked me all that much and that's ok, but the rest of them thought that I would make a pretty good Marine by the time it was all over.

Quote of the Day: 

A to B

Studies show that the average person will stand in line the equivalent of 6 years of their life by the time they die. I think that during the first 5 days of boot camp we stood in line 90% of the time we were awake so that means that every Marine is above average when it comes to standing in line as well. 

While standing in line “recruits,” are often required to stand “A to B” which means, to put it bluntly, “asshole to belly button.” It was the most humiliating thing I did in boot camp because I don’t particularly get turned on by having my crotch smashed up against another dudes butt at all let alone for hours and hours at a time. What makes it worse is that sometimes there were 90 of us in line smashed together. In boot camp you lose all your pride, ego, and gain humility. They make it so there is no other option. 

Some people think that going in the military means that you lose your sense of humor. I disagree now that I have been through 8 plus years of it. I think your sense of humor grows exponentially, but it’s a sense of humor only those who have done it can understand. What other option do you have when one is forced to spoon with 90 other dudes while standing up in a dental, hair cut, or medical check up line. We learn not to take ourselves too seriously and that’s a good thing. 

The first 5 days of boot camp were called “receiving.” We changed from civilian clothes to cammies the first night;  we got haircuts; we must have gotten half a dozen or more shots; we had medical checkups; we had dental checkups; we bought all our hygiene items; we started to learn to march and there were a few more things thrown in there. As mentioned before, we stood in line all day, every day those first few. 

We also ran our first Physical Fitness Test or PFT of which I did a pretty good job. I think I scored 260 to 270 out of 300. I remember that the MCRD record for pull ups was 65 without the kid getting off the bar. We were told that he was a rock climber. I think I did 18 or so. One gets 100 points for doing 20 so not too bad. I was in pretty good shape. After all I was an all state athlete in high school and I loved the weight room of which I am still very active in doing. The PFT consists of a 3 mile run, sit ups, and pull ups. 

I was only 180 pounds upon entering boot camp so I was not considered a “Fat Body” or a “Double Rat.” I was grateful for this because it gave the Drill Instructors less reason to single me out. The fat bodies were given a strict diet. They were only allowed skinless chicken and a cup of rice for both dinner and lunch every day for 13 weeks. I don’t recall what they gave them for breakfast. 

The double rats were required to take double portions of everything so they could get more meat on their bones and were not allowed to leave the chow hall until they had finished it all. Those in the middle, like me, just grabbed what we could as fast as we could. 

I tell you this because when we were required to spoon for 5 days straight, the flatulence from the food created a lot of heart ache among the 90 man platoon. We were required to get real friendly with the man to the front and rear of us as well as stand still when someone decided to “bust ass” as Marines liked to say. Because of the food, all farts from all recruits smelt the same for 13 weeks. When someone decided to let loose he became a real crowd pleaser. 

You learn to breathe real shallow and hold that shallow breath as long as possible until the funk dissipated. There was no running, talking, complaining, or covering your nose while at attention so you either learned to enjoy someone else’s farts or learned to deal with it. I admit that a lot of foods don’t treat my digestive system too well so I was guilty of the farting torture that went on throughout boot camp. It’s Just another example of sense of humor growth. 

On top of all that we were constantly being screamed at for even the smallest infraction to include “busting ass.” We also started to learn what “thrashing” was. This was when you did something like fall asleep outside of “rack time” and they took you into a sand pit or just anywhere close and made you do push-ups, jumping jacks, flutter kicks, or whatever they could come up with to make your muscles scream and your cammies drenched. Sometimes they would do it to just one of us, a few of us, or even the whole platoon. It was extra physical fitness you did outside of the almost daily planned PT. 

I come from a broken family but I do have two parents who have been available to me. My father is now one of my best friends. The second I stepped off that bus and onto the yellow footprints I realized something that slapped me across the face as if someone had really done it. I realized that everything my father had ever counseled me on, that I had resisted, was true. To be honest, I had a few days during the 5 day receiving phase that I became extremely homesick. The Marines teach that “what does not kill you makes you stronger” and the homesick feeling was weakness leaving my body. They also taught us that “pain is weakness leaving the body.” 

They gave us one phone call home during those 5 days. When I called my younger step sister Jenny answered because no one else was home. I desperately wanted to talk to my father. I was sad and I was teary eyed. It was painful for me. Thanks to God’s good grace I was put in the wrong line the next night and got one more chance to call. This time dad answered the phone and I just told him that everything he taught me was true and that I loved and respected him so much. The humility of boot camp made a wild, punk kid, bow his head and truly feel love for his father. 

After a few days of homesickness, I started to enjoy boot camp but I had no idea what awaited me on day 6. Day 6 was the day we would be introduced to the five drill instructors that would guide us through the next 12 plus weeks. Receiving would be a picnic compared to what awaited us. 

Video of the Day: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fm2mPhp3b60

Quote of the Day:  

Yellow Footprints

I just realized that I made a mistake on my departure date. I actually entered boot camp and my contract on 14 October 1997. I was picked up by my recruiter from my home in Beaver, Utah on the 13^th and taken to a hotel in Salt Lake City. I had the option of bringing a bag of hygiene items with me so I would not have to purchase them at Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD) San Diego but I had heard rumors that recruits that did this were harassed as well as those who shaved their heads before arriving so besides letting my hair grow out a little I decided to only bring my scriptures with me. 

I did bring a razor and a little shave cream so I could shave my face when I woke up the morning of 14^th but threw them away so I would only have my scriptures. The most exciting place on earth is MEPS. It is the processing center for all military personnel before they enter their prospective service. You are treated like crap by everyone there but what makes it worse is that a lot of them are fat, lazy civilians who work for the government and have no motivation to treat anybody joining the service with any respect. Quite honestly I’d rather go through any military training than go through MEPS again. I had no idea that I would have to go through this hell hole 3 more times throughout my life. 

In both the hotel the night before and at MEPS they give recruits a special menu for our meals. We are not good enough to look at the regular menus and only have a choice between 3 entrées. I am not complaining because I like about any food but I just point it out to clarify that from the very beginning they start to strip your identity as part of your training. Furthermore, Marines are not Marines until you finish the 13 week boot camp. Until then you are referred to as a “recruit.” One must earn the title of Marine and I would have it no other way. I am often disgusted by people who want a title without paying for it or earning it. 

I could not sleep the night before MEPS and my departure. I tossed and turned all night and so I would enter boot camp being awake for 36 hours. I did not know that the night you arrive they don’t let you sleep either because the in-processing took all night and all the next day. By the time I laid down to sleep for 6 hours the second night at boot camp I would be awake for 60 hours. 

After MEPS my recruiter took me and some other recruits to the airport in Salt Lake City, Utah and bid us farewell. After a short flight we arrived at the San Diego airport and were instructed to go to the USO (www.uso.org) to wait for further instruction. We must have been there at least 2 hours and as time wore on more and more young men in civilian clothes arrived. There were also newly minted Marines in uniform coming through. Coincidently, the movie I remember watching at the USO was “Forest Gump.” 

All of a sudden I heard this very stern, loud, strong voice say, “Those of you here for Marine Corps boot camp follow me. I looked over and saw this massive black drill instructor who looked as if all he did was lift weights. I thought I would be scared when the moment arrived but in all honesty I was super motivated and ready to do anything they asked of me. His aggressive voice sent motivated chills through my body. I was ready. 

We followed him outside to a bus and stood at attention. He said, “When I call your name you had better sound off with a ‘yes sir’ and then take a knee. Do you understand me?”

A unanimous, boisterous “Yes Sir” came the reply from 50 or more wannabe Marines. When he called my name I shouted my best, “yes sir” and took a knee. After all names were called we were herded on the bus and told to put our heads between our knees so that we would not see the route we were to take from the airport to the recruit depot. After what seemed like a fairly short ride the bus halted and the door flung open. After three hard, piercing footsteps up the bus steps a sharp, thunderous voice said, “look at me.” We all removed our heads from our knees in unison to look up. I saw another "swollen" drill instructor who said, “When I say so you will get off my bus and line up on my yellow footprints. Do you understand me?”

An earsplitting “yes sir” came the answer from all 50 of us. 

“Get off my bus. Go, go, go. Hurry up, go, hurry up,” the drill instructor continued until we were all off the bus. As I departed the bus as fast as humanly possible I picked a set of yellow footprints to stand on. It was dark outside except for the light over the door in front of us. I managed to single myself out within the first 3 minutes of standing on the footprints by putting my scriptures under my foot, literally when the instructions were to put what was in our hands by our foot. So as I stepped on my scriptures I was attacked and screamed at but I fixed the problem  quick and the wolves disbanded.

 The most motivating part about the yellow footprints was the 30 second explanation the DI gave about how so many who had sacrificed everything had stood exactly where we were standing at that moment. (www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxbaHmZIaE8) 

It sent bone chilling emotions through my body and nearly brought me to tears. I was now only 13 weeks from being one of The Few, The Proud, The Marines.