Chapter 1

“Morning Corporal Russo.”

“Morning Barnim. You ready for everything today?”

“About as ready as I can be. I brought all the paperwork and identification you told me to bring, along with the records from when I was in the hospital.”

“Good, it shouldn’t be an issue. You need to start drinking water or something, they’re going to give you a piss test today.”

“Great.”

It seemed the other guy was late. I went into their break room to get something to drink. It was about 5 till 8 and I was finishing my third glass of water when the other guy finally showed up. He couldn’t have been more than 5’9î and a 160 lbs, though I could tell by the way he carried himself that he thought he was my size. I figured the new guy was a couple years older than I was.

If his being late wasnít an indication, his attitude was even more obvious when he opened his mouth.

“Well, I’m here so we can get going.”

This was going to be a long day if I was going to have to deal with this idiot all day. I could see Cpl Russo sigh at the guyís display. They had a brief conversation before we all headed out to the parking lot.

We ended up standing by a mid-90’s Ford Taurus. I went to the front passenger door as there was no way that I was stuffing myself into the back seat of this car.

He jumped in front of me saying “Who do you think you are? Demarius Jackson doesn’t sit in the back seat.” On top of everything this idiot was referring to himself in the third person. He was going to have a fun time at boot camp.

“Demarius, get in the back seat behind me.”

I could hear him bitching about how it has been just another benefit of being a white man and that I got to sit up front because I was white like Cpl Russo. This guy was a bigger idiot than I thought.

Traffic was horrible, which meant I had to listen to the never-ending commentary coming from the backseat. It was a wide-ranging commentary. Starting with what a physical specimen he was, to how great he fucked, and finally how he was going to run things when he got to boot camp. Cpl Russo actually snorted when he said the last one.

I was actually beginning to hope we got into an accident, so I wouldn’t have to listen to the idiot any longer.

We finally arrived at the MEPS station in downtown Atlanta. Turned out it was in the Martin Luther King Junior Federal annex. We went inside and Cpl Russo checked us in. He gave both of us a bit of last-minute advice.

“You two do as you’re told. Once you get to boot camp, keep your mouths shut, your eyes and ears open. If you’re told to do something, do it properly and as fast as you possibly can. When you’re on leave after boot camp come see us in the office.”

With that, he left. We were led into a room with about forty other people in it and were given a clipboard and pen filled with paperwork to fill out. The room reminded me of a cross between the DMV and a doctor’s office. I filled out all the paperwork; it was a medical history questionnaire.

It seemed we were separated by which branch of the military we were enlisting in. There were about 20 or so people in the Air Force section. I was one of 8 in the Marine Corps section. I made sure to sit as far away from Demarius as possible as I didn’t need to listen to his bullshit all day long.

After filling out the questionnaire, I turned it in along with the medical files that I brought with me. It was a good thing that I took Stosh’s advice and brought a book with me as I was about a chapter in when I was called up front with three others.

They had us perform three tests and it was a good thing that I drank all that water, so I was able to get the piss test out of the way. Once we were done with that it was time to do the hearing and vision test. The hearing test was annoying, raise the hand on the side when you hear the beep. I just know I passed; the vision test was the same old read the chart line by line. We were then sent back out to the waiting room.

It was about another 45 minutes till the next round of stuff. The first thing they did was take height and weight measurements. Seemed that they determined that I was overweight for 6’5”. They said that I needed to be 215 lbs, I was currently at 239 lbs. Cpl Russo had prepared me for this by helping me get a weight waiver.

We were then taken into a large room that had an office in a corner. We were ordered to strip down to our underwear. Even though I was considered overweight, there were two guys in my group that looked a lot fatter than I did. They had us do some stretches, jumping jacks and finally do a duck walk. Still in our underwear were told to sit down on a bench and wait to be called into the office. I was just sitting there in my underwear reading and got called in last.

When I got into the small office, which was an exam room, there was an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel sitting at the desk in the corner.

“Have a seat on the exam table.”

“Yes, sir.” I was then poked and prodded for about 10 minutes, then he sat there looking at the file that I brought from the hospital. Finally, he turned his chair to look at me.

“Son, this is one of the strangest things I’ve seen. People don’t collapse, fall into what presents as a coma and then just wake up with no signs of what caused it.î

Maybe if I’d have been lucky, Doogie Howser, M.D. could have found out that the Aliens rebooted my brain. It seemed that his comment was more for his own benefit than mine. He then spent another 10 minutes or so poking and prodding me to try and find something. In the end it seemed that I was finally cleared to enlist.

I went back out to the DMV room. I was about halfway with my book when everybody in my section was finished with all the tests. We were then taken into a large section of cubicles and offices which was marked with a hanging sign that read “Future Marine Zone”. The eight of us were led to a large conference room where we waited for a few minutes before a Gunnery Sergeant walked in with a stack of papers.

“Gentlemen, I’m Gunnery Sergeant Howard. These packets of paper are for your security clearance and FBI background check. Fill out as much as you can without making things up. Depending on what your MOS is, you may have to fill out a more detailed version. How many of you are on an open contract?”

Five of the group raised their hand, including Demarius. Guess he wasn’t as smart as he thought.

“You five will be last. So, let’s see who our sacrificial lamb will be. Badzinski, get moving and follow me.”

“So, you’re the individual making my job difficult today?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Gunnery Sergeant.”

“It says here that you’re to be transported to MCRD San Diego. That means I have to figure out about getting you there, that’ makes my day more difficult. So, what makes you so special?”

“I asked, they said yes, pretty much the whole story.”

“So, you gamed the system?”

“Asking for something that’s available, but not generally known to your side of the situation isn’t gaming the system from my point of view. Now if it wasn’t available and I got it, most likely in this scenario receiving it would be gaming the system.”

He pondered this for a minute and decided to move forward.

“So, let’s see what’s in Mr. Smarty-pants’ initial paperwork. The ASVAB score with your name. So, before I look, what MOS did you choose?”

Before I could answer, he flipped to the next page.

“So why would a smarty-pants choose infantry? They had to have told you that with your score you could choose any job in the Marine Corps.”

“They did.”

“You still chose the infantry.”

“What can I say. I like the outdoors, guns and want to learn to blow things up.”

“Good answer. Do you have any distinguishing marks other than the tattoo peeking out of your sleeve and the scar on your face?”

“Yeah, I have a pretty big scar on my left leg.”

“It has to go in your file. Let’s start with the leg.”

I dropped my pants to the floor. He took a look and a picture. “What the hell happened.î

“Wild boar. Though he turned out to be extremely tasty.î

“You have got to be kidding me?”

“Nope.î

I pulled my pants back up and then rolled my shirt sleeve up. He had me lift my arm so he could photograph the underside.

“That’s a really nice piece of art.î

“Thanks.î

He slid a few papers in front of me. “Your finalized contract, and the waiver for your weight. I know to a degree why they do it, but you don’t need it to be honest. Sign and date it, once that’s done, you are officially Marine Corps property.î

I started to read it and was questioned as to why I wasn’t just signing it. He chuckled when I said that I didn’t sign anything that I hadn’t read. His “they’re going to love you” comment caught me off guard. Everything was as it was supposed to be, so I signed. He looked it over and nodded.

“Go finish your background check packet and send in the next person.î

“Got it.”

Walking out of the office, I told the next guy to go in. I looked at my watch and it was after noon. It took me a good half hour to fill out the background check paperwork.

We were handed another piece of paperwork as the next guy was going in. It was a drug use declaration form. I had nothing to put on the form, so it went quickly. When everyone was done, we began dealing with all the waivers that needed to be taken care of. I signed the one for my weight.

Once we had all taken care of the paperwork, we were moved into another room which had a podium and the flags of all the branches and a US flag behind it.

GySgt Howard stood at the podium; we were going to take the Oath of Enlistment. Showing my maturity, when he said “I, state your name”, I repeated it verbatim. It was finally official; I was on my way to becoming a Marine. We all went back into the larger outer office.

GySgt Howard came up to me. “Badzinski, have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

As I sat down, I took a look at my watch, 1:45 PM. Guess this what Stosh was talking about when he talked about when he mentioned hurry up and wait. It was about an hour when GySgt Howard came back to where I was sitting.

“So, everyone else is on the bus to Parris Island. Now it’s time to deal with my special little flower.”

Seemed they never had the issue of sending someone to MCRD San Diego before. I was to join about 20 recruits going to Air Force boot camp for my first leg of the trip. We had a flight from Atlanta to Austin, TX. There was a layover of an hour and twenty minutes at the Austin airport. I would change planes and the Air Force guys would get on a bus. The flight left at 6:20PM and landed in San Diego at 10:22PM.

“You’ve got about 20 minutes before the bus leaves.”

He handed me a box lunch consisting of a ham sandwich, chips, and a Coke. I quickly ate and then sat waiting.

I was called outside to a waiting tour bus. There was an Air Force senior NCO standing there.

“Badzinski, this is Technical Sergeant Herrera, he’s in charge of this gaggle of idiots. You get lost on the way; I’ll find you and then I’ll put my boot so far up your ass that you’ll be able to floss with my boot laces. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He handed me a sealed manila envelope.

“Don’t lose this or I’ll find you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good luck.”

I was ushered onto the bus. We made it to the airport by about 4:45PM. The Technical Sergeant handed out the tickets as we got off the bus. And just like that we were on our own.

As we went, it was as if I was the leper of the group. Guess seeing as I wasn’t going into the Air Force that they didn’t want anything to do with me; that was perfectly fine by me.

After checking in I found the gate we’d be flying out of. I went to the store and got a magazine as by my guess I’d finish the book at the Austin airport. I got a couple snacks; a bag of peanuts just wasn’t going to cut it.

We left Atlanta a couple of minutes ahead of schedule and in spite of this we landed in Austin pretty much on time. It was about 8:45PM Atlanta time and I needed to find some dinner, as I knew I’d be up for a long time.

As I walked to the new gate, there was a sign for Salt Lick Bar-B-Que, and I knew what was for dinner. A three-meat platter of brisket, sausage, and surprisingly turkey. I was fat and happy again.

The second plane ride left the Austin airport late, that meant it was about 11pm when I landed in San Diego.

When I had left Atlanta, it was 68 degrees and humid. At 11PM in San Diego, it was 57 degrees with what felt like no humidity. I got directions to the USO that was used as a gathering point for people headed to MCRD San Diego.

I handed my book to a gentleman in a Vietnam Veteran ball cap behind the USO counter so that somebody in the future might make use of it. I took a seat and finished reading my magazine.

I’d probably been in the USO for about ten minutes before a Marine Sergeant wearing a Smokey the Bear hat came walking in. He casually walked around the room and then walked out. I got the feeling that this was the beginning. You could feel the anticipation and fear begin building in the room. The gentleman in the Vietnam Vet hat started laughing. I don’t know about anyone else, but that was completely unsettling.

It was a minute later when the Sergeant walked in followed by another Sergeant with the same kind of hat on. They stopped, looked around the room, and then all hell broke loose.

“GRAB YOUR TRASH AND GET OUTSIDE ONTO THE SIDEWALK!” I didn’t need to be told twice. I made sure I had my manila envelope and headed for the door. I was second out the door only cause the other guy was closer.

We were met by another Sergeant and told to form a line. I guess the majority of people froze or panicked. You could hear the two Sergeants yelling out instructions to get outside. At this point my only job was to keep my mouth shut and do what I was told.

More people started flowing out of the USO in a complete state of bewilderment. It took a few minutes for everybody to make it outside and in line. I’d positioned myself in the front so I could see exactly what was going on. I wasn’t first and I wasn’t last, the two places I didn’t want to be. We were told to load the bus filling seats from front to back.

As the last person came on, he was followed by what I could only imagine were Drill Instructors. The one that came into the USO first spoke.

“I’m Drill Instructor Sergeant Hasikos, this is Drill Instructor Sergeant Cooper and Drill Instructor Sergeant Savage. You are going to ride this bus to MCRD San Diego. You are to remain silent for the entirety of the bus ride. Once the bus begins moving, you are to place your head between your knees and leave it there for the duration of your ride. See this black box behind me, this is a video camera. I’ll know which of you follow these simple directions. You won’t like the consequences if you don’t. Have a nice ride.”

With that they departed, the bus doors closed, and we began moving. I looked at my watch before putting my head in between my knees. It was ten minutes till midnight, and it was going to be a long time before I could even think of going to sleep.

When we came to a stop, my watch said 12:30PM. Then the bus driver spoke for the first time.

“We’re here boys. Get ready for the fuck-fuck games to begin.”

The door opened and a diminutive Hispanic looking Drill Instructor came onto the bus.

“Look up here and listen. I am Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Sevilla. You will follow any instructions that you are given immediately. Starting from this moment you are no longer civilians. You are onboard Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego; you are now recruits in the Marine Corps.”

He let that sink in for a moment.

“You will not speak unless spoken to by a Marine or Sailor. You will address everyone on this depot with “Sir” or “Ma’am”. You will acknowledge a command or order with “Aye Aye, Sir or Ma’am”. If you are given instructions, you will respond with “Aye, Sir or Ma’am” signifying that you understand the instruction. Am I understood?”

About three of us had caught on and responded with an “Aye, sir”. Well to say that he wasn’t happy was an understatement. We spent about three months doing nothing but saying “Aye, sir”.

“Enough. Lastly, you will no longer refer to yourself or anyone else as anything other than recruit. You will not use the terms “I”, “We”, “Us”, or “They”. Am I understood?”

There was a resounding ìAYE AYE, SIR”.

“Almost good enough.î

I noticed that the bus driver had slipped off the bus at some point.

“Ten seconds after I get off the bus, you will disembark. Move as fast as you can without running or hurting any other recruits. You will find a pair of yellow footprints and place yourself on them.î

Being in the second row, I could see him the whole time as he got off the bus. As soon as his second foot hit the pavement, I was up and moving. I hadn’t been able to see the other four drill instructors waiting just outside of the bus. As soon as I hit concrete it was a whirlwind of movement and yelling.

Once everyone was on the yellow footprints, DI GySgt Sevilla started a lecture. This covered how as recruits we were now subject to the UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice). He then listed off the three Articles that we needed to be worried about at that moment.

The first was Article 86, Unauthorized Absence. Basically, we needed to be in the proper place, at the proper time and in the proper uniform. The second was Article 91, Insubordinate Conduct Towards An NCO Or Petty Officer. This boiled down to don’t disrespect anyone in uniform. Finally, it was Article 92, Disobedience Of A Lawful Order. Do what your you’re told, when your you’re told. After he was done, he stopped right in front of me.

“When I give the command, this line will go through the door and follow the Drill Instructor inside. “AYE, SIR” was shouted. The command was given, and as I began to move there was an “AYE AYE, SIR”.

The order came and I moved into the building, where the first DI moved us towards a door down the hall. There were another two drill instructors in the room. There was a row of red waist high cubicles with an attached counter that we were told to line up in front of. Underneath the counter portion there were camouflaged duffel bags stacked up.

It was chaos the whole time as the drill instructors were running around and yelling at everybody. We were instructed to grab a white mesh bag out of the red cubicle in front of us.

Something new started. Drill Instructor Sevilla started doing a countdown, we needed to be done with the task when the countdown ended, responding “Done sir”. We started by putting our paperwork packet into the mesh bag. The other Drill instructors were flying around the room yelling at people that were slow or messing up.

Once that was done, we were told to pick up the green Money Valuable Bag out of the cubicle. Inside that went any IDs, jewelry, money, or anything valuable. It seemed we were about done. DI GySgt Sevilla gave us instruction that was kinda humorous.

“Take the Money Valuable Bag, secure it closed, ball it up and stuff it in your front right pocket so that I can’t see it.”

“AYE AYE, SIR.”

“Now take the mesh bag. Raise your left arm, put it through the string on the mesh bag, putting the string over your head so you look like Rambo.”

There were a few laughs here and there. They were immediately taken to task by the DIs roaming the room. His last instruction was even worse and caused a lot of laughing, then yelling and screaming.

“Reach down under the counter of your cubicle. Grab a war bag by all three handles. Put your left hand through all three handles. Put it up onto your shoulder like it’s your purse, making sure the clear plastic sleeve is facing outboard.”

There was a lot of laughter at this, followed by the expected yelling and screaming. I was able to keep my chuckling almost inaudible and avoided scrutiny.

We lined up in the back of the room and I went from the front of the line to the back. We were then directed to form a line against the wall in the hallway. When I got into the hall the dais was yelling “Nut to butt, get Nut to butt”.

I thought that since ìDon’t ask, don’t tellî was in place, this seemed a little homoerotic to me, though they weren’t’ asking my opinion on the matter. We went down the hall and stopped outside another door. As soon as we stopped “Nut to butt” was enforced again.

Seemed we were going to get our hair cut, shuffling as the line moved. I kept mine fairly short, so it wouldn’t take that long. When I got to the door, a barber cape was wrapped around my neck. Placing the war bag in my lap, I sat down in the empty chair. One drawback of being last was the clippers were uncomfortably warm. About 10 swipes and I was basically bald. Once back in line we were marched to another door where a group would go in and then come out a door about 25ft down the hall.

When I got in the room, there were a row of phones. We were given instructions to call home. If someone answered or we got an answering machine, we were told that the script on the wall was to be read and then we were to hang up. The yelling told me that people were trying to have conversations past what the script read. I called the grandparents, the answering machine picked up and I read the paper.

“Hello, this is Recruit Badzinski. I have arrived safely at MCRD San Diego. The next time I contact you will be by postal mail. Expect a letter in two to three weeks. I love you, goodbye.”

I was ushered back to the hallway with yelling and screaming. We moved to wait next to a set of double doors. I figured it had to be about 1:45AM at this point, and as my watch was in my Money Valuables Bag (which I was starting to think of as my money bag) I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t going to chance to take a look at it.

We’d been waiting for about 10 minutes “Nut to butt”, when there was a commotion about halfway up the line. A guy in a Navy uniform came running up, I figured he was a medic, I mean Corpsman. Seemed one of the recruits was slightly dehydrated and had locked his knees. They made us all drink for 30 seconds at a water fountain under a DIís watchful gaze.

We finally went through the double doors into a large room with rows of folding tables and chairs and told to sit. There was a projector and screen along with two civilians by a table in front of the other tables. Once we were all seated the heavy-set civilian started.

“I am Mr. Brockers, and this is Mr. Jones, we will be making sure that you fill out all your personnel paperwork correctly. Let’s start with your pay and getting you signed up with a Navy Federal Credit Union account. This is Ms. Totaro who will hand out and go over the applications.”

An older lady came through a side door, pushing a cart. She began handing out packets of papers, once that was done, she went over to the projector. She began going over all the paperwork and when it was all said and done, I had a new checking and savings account. Total I now had 5 bank accounts which was too much for my taste.

When she left, it was back to the paperwork grindstone GI Bill, US bonds, life insurance beneficiary and a host of others. Our enlistment packets got turned in with the other paperwork. We then all went to the bathroom, or Head as we were now to refer it as.

I chanced a glance at my watch, with the time change it was now going on 3AM. With that, I was tired as hell. After the head call, we were led to another building which I didn’t get a look at much as it was dark.

We got inside and there was another Drill Instructor waiting on us in a lightly lit room. I did notice the rows of bunk beds down each side of the wide-open room before he spoke.

“I am Drill Instructor Staff Sergeant Vele. I will be your Receiving Drill Instructor. It’s my job to get you ready for your training platoon. On my left through that door is bedding. You’ve got 15 minutes then lights out; you better get to it. We have long days that are going to start early, no dicking around.”

It was utter chaos to start with everyone scrambling around like roaches when the lights came on. There needed to be some semblance of order. Somebody needed to get a handle on this before DI Vele did. It didn’t look like anyone else would, so I got my best “I’m in charge” voice ready.

I walked into what amounted to a large closet. “Everybody out. You four stay, everyone else who needs linens form a line at the door.”

There were blankets, sheets, pillows and pillowcases. The assembly line was the best option here. Two people getting stuff together, and two handing it out. That’s when somebody outside of the closet piped up.

“You think cause your big you’re the boss?”

“Nope, I’m the only one who came up with a solution. Be quiet before the Drill instructor comes out.”

We were going pretty good for a minute or two, until someone decided to be an ass. They decided that they were more important and pushed their way to the front.

“Give me my stuff.”

“Look you need to wait like everyone else.”

“Don’t you know who I am?”

Fuck, one of these. You’d thought that all the yelling and screaming that had been directed our way would have checked this attitude. Guess it just became my job in my own mind. The guy was 6’1” or 6’2” and pretty built. I could only guess sports hero from a small town. Good, but not good enough to get a scholarship. Probably used to getting whatever he wanted when he wanted.

“Look buddy, here nobody is special. Just get back in line and wait your turn.”

“No, you’ll...” I was tired and not really tolerant at this point. I leaned my face close to his.

“Get to the end of the line you self-important jackass. If you don’t, I’ll put you there myself.”

The look on his face was one of pure shock ìLike how dare I talk to him in this mannerî. Good thing that nothing ended up happening and things kept moving along while this was going on and everyone else got their stuff. I looked at the idiot.

“There you go big man. Go ahead and grab your stuff.” He snatched his bedding, glared at me and started to walk off.

“This isn’t over. Nobody talks to me that way.”

What a fucking idiot. This was about pulling together as a group. I grabbed my stuff and found a bottom bunk. DI Vele popped up out of nowhere.

“Lights out. We’ve got an early morning.”

I glanced at my watch before putting it back into the money bag. Almost 4AM in the morning, tomorrow was going to suck.

I was brought awake abruptly by a loud noise that turned out to be DI Vele banging on a metal door with what looked to be a night stick.

“Get your asses up. If you’re not ready to go in 10 minutes, there will be hell to pay.”

I got out of the rack and made a head call. I was dressed and ready to go by the time DI Vele came back out. I had looked at my watch, it was 6:15 in the morning. A whole whopping two and a half hours of sleep. There was a whole lot of yelling as I stood in front of my bed. It was well past the 10 minutes when everybody was ready. DI Vele got everybody’s attention.

“The first order is to make your beds, or racks as you will now refer to them. Mommy’s not here to clean up after you. You recruits are now the housekeepers of your squad bay.”

We spent the next 45 minutes trying to learn how making a rack the Marine Corps way. Having two flat sheets was a new experience. It took me a few tries to kind of get it. I didn’t like having sheets for me when I slept, so I figured it would only take some fixing to get it done going forward. Some guys just weren’t getting it.

We were all told to form up in four columns outside in front of the building. It was chilly, but not that bad. We weren’t told where we were going, but we started marching.

The guys in front of and behind me were horrible. I got kicked from behind or ran into the guy in front a bunch of times. The shuffle to get back in step wasn’t helping. We were being given instructions as we marched, but it didn’t help much.

We marched for a while until we came to a row of low buildings that almost looked like the storage unit where my stuff was. Turned out this was where you got your uniform issue. At this time, we were only getting a little bit. A set of sweats which were olive drab with Marines across the chest, two packs of olive drab under shirts, and two packs of BVD tighty-whities. There was a pack of white socks and a pair of olive drab sneakers, or “Go faster” as they were now to be referred to. We had simple measurements taken from our first uniform issue in a couple days.

To put it all in there was a top loading duffel bag, or as we were to call it “Seabag”. It had straps on it so that it could be carried like a backpack. The last two items we got turned to be a padlock and the iconic Marine Corps eight point hat or cover as was now the term to be used.

We were then marched to a small building, that once inside looked like a storage building. There were some tables with medium sized boxes sitting on them. We were told to go to a box and change into the sweats and other items we’d just gotten. Everything but our money bag and what we’d just gotten issued went in the box. We were to then seal it up, put our information on the label and affix it to the box. We’d get this back after we finished training. DI Vele then made us turn out sweatshirts inside out, we weren’t officially Marines yet, so no advertising it.