Chapter 3

Waking up I got ready and looked at the calendar on the Scribe’s desk. It was April 9th, the beginning of week two.

The Monday started off with a PT session and then onto chow. My stomach was protesting on almost an hourly basis. For a moment I thought that California might be having an earthquake. Then I realized that it was just my stomach growling at the lack of food.

We headed for another First Aid/TCCC class where we did a refresher on triage and CPR to start off. Then we had our first introduction to the PASGT (Personnel Armor System for Ground Troops) vest, it was just referred to as a “Flak Jacket”. We were told to find one that would fit as we were going to learn casualty moves.

It was during the individual moves that things got interesting. We were paired up a smaller recruit with a larger recruit. They were probably several reasons for this, so who was I to argue.

I got paired with recruit Joshua Hardin. He was about 5’9 and probably 185lbs or so.

I went first. We started with a 100 ft drag which was the hardest, as there really was no good place to grab the vest. You had to use two hands. It wasn’t that pulling that was difficult, I just had to constantly regrip the vest. It took a little longer than expected. The Fireman’s Carry went next and was a lot easier. Using the one arm technique wasn’t as hard as I thought, and it lets you have a hand free to be able to use your rifle. I had to carry him 50 ft, which was pretty simple.

It was now Hardin’s turn; I had the feeling this wasn’t going to go well. He started with the drag and fell back on his ass when his hand came loose. When he finally got me moving, it took what seemed to be forever. We got reset so that Hardin could do the Fireman’s Carry, this had disaster written all over it.

He got me about halfway up and I could feel his legs begin to wobble. Then his whole body began to sway back and forth.

“Hardin, you’re not going to get me up, much less the 50ft. Just put me down.”

“Shut the fuck up! I can do it.”

This jackass was going to get us both hurt. I felt my shoes touch the floor and I was done with this wild ride. Pushing off his shoulders, I stood up. Seemed my safety didn’t sit well with Hardin.

“The fuck are you doing? I could have gotten it.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to let either of us get hurt.” Hardin got cut off before he could respond.

“Both of you idiots shut your holes. I need to figure out what’s going on with you two.”

Fuck, just what I needed. DI Faamate was going to tear us apart. It also didn’t help that DI Pugh was watching and smiling at me.

“Alright Hardin, what happened?”

He gave his perspective. I didn’t want him to succeed and was trying to sabotage him. I don’t know where Hardin’s arrogance came from. Then I explained my side, aborting the exercise before either of us could get hurt. I wanted to do my best, help my partner do his best, but also come out in one piece.

“Hardon, go find another partner. Badzinski come with me.”

We went off to the side away from everybody.

“Badzinski, I get what happened, but you need to let people fail. That’s the way they learn. Now go find a partner more your size.”

With Becker as my new partner, the rest of the class went well. His country ass had no problem hefting me onto his shoulders.

We spent the rest of the time learning about treating types of wounds. Our next class would be a review and practical application of the lesson.

As the class broke up, we went out to drill before going to chow. While we were waiting our turn to go into the Mess Hall, we received info on a new training item. Next Friday would be a 5k road march and starting tomorrow we would begin wearing our combat boots to break them in.

The rest of the day went by per usual. DI Pugh was making my life miserable. That night a bizarre event happened that would have me thinking ìwhat the fuckî.

Waking up there was a disturbing smell. It took me a minute to figure out what the hell it was. It smelt like my rack was in the middle of a porta potty.

I noticed that the short kid Berg was getting out of his rack, and there was shit on his sheets and all over his underwear. He was a double rat due to being underweight and they were feeding him a shit load of food every day. It was now all over his rack and himself. He went straight to the rain room like nothing was wrong.

DI Oyono lost his shit when he smelled it and investigated where it was coming from. I as the Scribe, was made to help Berg get his linen cleaned. DI Oyono showed me where there were two sets of washers and driers behind a door at the end of the rain room hallway. Seemed they were for the DIs to use and for emergencies. Well, this qualified as an emergency.

I made Berg carry his linens over to the machines. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to be touching them. I had to get it started as Berg had no clue how to operate a washing machine.

We were told to go to chow as the rest had already gone while we cleaned up. Once done, I was to get back to do some paperwork after making sure Berg met the platoon in the PT field. While we were walking an idea came to me. It seemed like a good idea, though one that could get me jammed up more than I already was.

Being the Scribe, I was going to get sent to chow by myself. That would give me the chance to tuck my diet tag into my breast pocket and I could actually eat a normal meal. I’d have to be very careful about when and how often I did it.

The platoon was almost done with PT when I dropped Berg off and headed back to the barracks. The linens and stuff were thrown into the dryer, and I got to my paperwork. I went over the medical appointment sheet; seems I was getting my wisdom teeth pulled on Thursday. I was definitely not looking forward to it. While I was doing this DI Pugh came in.

“Get on the quarter deck Badzinski, it’s time to watch some TV.”

I soon found out that this wasn’t a good thing. It was sort of like the pushup position, except that you were resting on your forearms.

“Extend your right arm like you’ve got a remote and start changing the channel.”

Once I was in that position, he walked off and into the duty hut. I was situated so that he could see me from where he was sitting. A minute or two later, I was told to switch arms and start flipping through the channels.

I had been in the position for around 15 minutes before I was told to finish my work and join the platoon on the parade deck. After a bit of time on the parade deck we headed over to the far side of the PT field. We came to a small course where we were taught how to perform bounding rushes in combat. DI Oyono explained how this was to work.

“Recruits, this is where you start. You low crawl to the first log. When you get there pop up and rush over to the next log. In that rush you need to say this phrase in your head. “I’m up, they see me, I’m down”. You should be on the ground before you finish it in your head.”

There were two lanes side by side being run simultaneously. The lanes would alternate each time to simulate one lane rushing while the other is providing covering fire. We ran it over and over until DI Oyono was satisfied.

We went back to the barracks to get our rifles. Then it was back out to the parade deck for more drill. It seemed like we had the marching portion pretty down pat. The rifle manual of arms was still a work in progress.

After we had been on the parade deck for an hour or so, we headed over to the mess hall. I was out front on rifle guard with our rifles, when DI Pugh came up and decided to give me a dressing down.

Something happened while he was yelling at me that I didn’t expect. Four other DIs who I’d never seen before came out of nowhere. They were crowding me and yelling at me right along with DI Pugh.

It took a lot to not look to see who these new DIs were. It went on until somebody came out of the Mess Hall to relieve me on rifle guard. The other DIs just seemed to disappear into thin air. I was lucky to not laugh because they were pretty funny. I wolfed down my lunch and got back outside.

We gathered our rifles and formed up, then marched out to where the confidence course was. This session of training was the intro to bayonets. It seemed they wanted us to get the moves down pat before we strapped large, stabby things to our rifles.

We began with learning how to be offensive without a weapon used as a kind of bladed staff, I guess. We started with the guard position. Rifle held out vertical with a slight slant. Once everyone got that down pat, we moved on to individual offensive tactics. There were five basic moves that we were taught - slash, vertical butt stroke, smash, horizontal butt stroke and the jab.

It was interesting that we were taught a butt stroke to the groin. You could see a lot of cringing going on in the recruits.

We spent an hour or so on this, then went back to the squad bay to rack our rifles. It was then time for more drill. We went and had dinner and then went back to the squad bay where we had a class on uniforms and rank structures.

I was good about the rank structure other than Air Force enlisted and NCOs, though I didn’t think that would be on our exam. With being in NJROTC, I was somewhat familiar with Marine Corps uniforms visually. Everyone knew that the Marine Corps had the best dress uniform. This was an area that I figured that I’d have to help Becker with.

We were sent back outside to practice facing movements for a little while. When we came back in, DI Pugh was waiting. I was one of the last in and he already had people on the quarterdeck.

“It’s the last member of the Quarter-deck Queens. Get your ass over here Badzinski. Join the fun.”

With no other choice, I dropped into the pushup position on the quarterdeck. We were in that position for about 10 minutes and then put into a new position.

“On your feet my Queens. Arms out parallel to the deck in front of you, palms down. Start jogging in place.”

We started jogging. This wasn’t good enough, so new twists were added. The last one was really messed up, though probably funny if it wasn’t happening to me.

“So, my Queens, I got a surprise for you bunch of faggots.”

This didn’t sound good.

“You need to bring your knees up to hit your hands. I want to hear your knees slapping your hands.”

That couldn’t be it, there had to be something else coming. I couldn’t have been more right.

“So, who knows the words to the 80’s song “I’m a maniac”.”

Fuck, it was on the edge of my mind where that song was from. I just couldn’t figure it out. Though for some reason the chorus came to me. I had to admit it, or things would probably get worse.

“This recruit knows the chorus to the song.”

“Should have known it would be you faggoty, peter-puffing ass Badzinski. Sing it for us.”

It wasn’t really what I wanted, but there was no choice and began singing.

“She’s a maniac ... Maniac on the floor. And she’s dancing like she’s never danced before.”

“Very good Badzinski. Please lead your fellow Queens in singing the chorus as the jogging in place continues.”

We began running and singing. It was humiliating, and that was the point. I’d lost track of how long we’d been there. Probably half the platoon at some point walked by and watched us performing for them. We were all sweating like a two-dollar whore in church.

We were finally released when SDI Brooks came into the squad bay. I couldn’t hear what was being said when he went into the duty hut, though it was the first time I’d heard him pissed off. When we interacted with him and we screwed up, it was always with a tone of disappointment in his voice.

The four of us went about our free time, though about 15 minutes after everyone else. The shower was needed to get the sweat and stink off me. I sat down and helped Becker and a couple other recruits with a recap of the day. I noticed that Berg hadn’t left his rack other than to take a shower.

The rest of free time went as usual, followed by the obligatory canteen of water. After my turn on fire watch, I crawled back into my rack, everything seemed to be going OK as I fell asleep.

I was again overwhelmed by stench as I woke up. That mother fucker shit his rack again. Getting up, I looked at him as I headed to the head, this whole thing was ridiculous.

I just went about my business. As I was getting ready, I noticed who was going to be heading Berg and his shitty rack. DI Pugh didnít look happy that he had to deal with Berg, I was just happy it wasn’t me.

We went out to the PT field to get our daily work in and then went on a 3-mile run getting ready for the PFT. It was then Mess Hall time and back to the barracks to get changed for the day.

It was off to a history class; this one covered the period after WWII and the Korean War. There was an interesting occurrence after WWII. The Marine Corps faced an assault on its very existence by major political forces in the US.

The first was by Secretary of Defense Louis A. Johnson. He was actually looking to axe not only the Marine Corps, but also The Navy. It took a Congressional investigation to slow him down. He resigned after his cuts to the military gave way to an incapable military in the early part of the Korean War. His disdain for the two services was on display in a quote from a conversation with Admiral Richard L. Connally.

“Admiral, the Navy is on its way out. There’s no reason for having a Navy and Marine Corps. General Bradley tells me amphibious operations are a thing of the past. We’ll never have any more amphibious operations. That does away with the Marine Corps. And the Air Force can do anything the Navy can do, so that does away with the Navy.”

Harry Truman, the US President at the time had a dislike of the Marine Corps dating back to World War I. He was a member of the Missouri National Guard in an Artillery Battery. By the end of World War I he was a Captain. What started the dislike of the Marine Corps isn’t known, though it was on display in an angry comment made in 1950.

“The Marine Corps is the Navy’s police force and as long as I’m President, that is what it will remain. They have a propaganda machine that is almost equal to Stalin’s.”

The Korean War started with the Marines coming to the rescue, then preserving and holding the Pusan Perimeter.

The event that lived up to the Marine Corps fighting spirit was the Battle of the Chosin Reservoir. The Marines were overwhelmed and vastly outnumbered. They conducted a fighting withdrawal that inflicted heavy casualties on the vast numbers of Chinese and North Korean troops.

This is in stark contrast to the Army in the same area. The Eighth Army retreated in disarray, abandoning equipment and vehicles along the way. This battle would be entered into the Marine lore as a prime example of the determination and toughness of Marines and the Marine Corps.

We stuck around and moved to another classroom. This was a class on leadership. We were told that we needed to begin our path to leadership now. We were introduced to the eleven leadership principles.

One resonated with something Grandfather had told me. The principle they brought up was, “Know your Marines and look out for their welfare”. Grandfathers’ version was “ take care of your subordinates first, then yourself. If you do that, they will follow you to the gates of hell if you ask”.

We also went over the fourteen leadership traits. It was an interesting class and made me think. We then went out and did drill. We were going to have an Initial drill next Friday.

We hit the mess hall and then went to retrieve our rifles. It was time for an introduction to bayonet fighting and more drill. Bayonet class was a refresher of the first one and then learning defensive moves. There were only three, and they were fairly straightforward - parry right, parry left and block slash. They also showed us combination attacks and attacking in a group.

We marched back to the barracks after the class, drilling the whole way back. We then spent a couple of hours doing rifle manual of arms and facing movements.

We went to the Mess Hall, and I got stuck guarding the rifle stacks again. Berg came to relieve someone, and that’s when it hit me. He was a double rat. I didn’t know how he was putting all that food away so fast. That also probably meant he was going to shit in his rack again. This was going to be a long week until he decided to stop. If he didn’t, this was only going to end bad for him and the rest of us.

Marching back to the parade deck we were screwing up as a platoon big time. DI Oyono was none too pleased; we were told to head upstairs and rack our rifles. As we were doing that, he voiced his displeasure.

“You assholes have tried my patience for the last time today seeing as you want to keep screwing up when Initial drill will be next week. It’s OK though, I’ll give you exactly what you deserve. We’re going to go outside and play games. I’ve got a great one in mind.”

It was on the way to getting dark when we assembled outside of the barracks. DI Oyono was still cussing and fuming at us, as we were directed to the big sandy area on the airport side of our barracks. As we were standing there, his first instruction was odd. I just couldn’t understand where this was going.

“On your faces. It’s time to turn you turds into sugar cookies.”

We all complied and were laying down in the sand. Though it wasn’t just sand as you could feel that there seemed to be small hard pieces, what I would later find out was ground seashells. Then the next instructions came, and I figured out how we were going to become Sugar Cookies. My reaction was are you fucking kidding me.

“You ever see those big sea turtles on the beach digging to bury their eggs in the sand? I have. You’re going to use your hands as flippers. That sand better start flying in the air. I want to see a small sandstorm start. You’re all going to look like delicious cookies covered in sugar. Get to it and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I thought getting sand all over the front of me was going to be bad enough. This was going to really suck big time. He was berating us the whole time. His main thing was he wanted to see more and more sand flying in the air. This was as he said to make sure all his cookies were adequately covered with sugar.

By the time we were allowed to get up, I probably had a quarter of an inch of sand covering my back. I knew there was going to be sand in every nook and cranny of my body. We headed into the barracks, though we had to strip down before we went into the squad bay. I appreciated this, it would keep the mess we had to clean up Sunday under control.

I spent a lot longer showering, trying to make sure that I got as much sand cleaned out as possible. It was impossible to get it all, but I sure as hell tried.

After getting as clean as possible, it was time for another tutoring session. This time it was on marching movements, there were a couple extra guys this time.

The ones we went over the most was right and left flank and column left and right. I caught a couple of other guys watching and trying the movements on their own. I don’t know why they didn’t just join in, but I wasn’t going to put them out front and center by saying anything. I noticed Berg was off by himself during this time.

We went through our nightly ritual before hitting the rack. I remembered hoping that Berg would call off his stinking up the barracks for the night. I was out cold pretty quick after an early Firewatch shift.

I woke up to Berg’s stench wafting into my rack. Though there was something else, my rack, bedding and myself felt wet. It was at that point that I realized that I’d pissed my rack. I was exhausted last night, but I remembered getting up to use the head. This didn’t seem right, but I needed to figure this out quick.

Then the stench from Berg’s rack hit me hard. My name got yelled out from across the squad bay.

“Badzinski, front and center.”

Fuck. Now I didn’t have a work around for having piss underwear. I did what I had to, shucking out of my tight whites, then ran over to DI Oyono. Standing there completely naked I answered.

“Recruit Badzinski as ordered.”

“Go get some clothes on you nasty fucker. Then get that idiot Berg and his shitty trash taken care of. After that hit chow.”

“AYE SIR.”

That gave me the opening I needed. When getting Berg’s stuff cleaned, I’d throw mine in. It still didn’t explain what the hell happened. I remembered getting up and using the head. I wasn’t sure how this mystery was going to get solved.

I got Berg moving on, getting himself cleaned up first then got my PT clothes on and got the washing machine ready to go. I waited until the platoon had left to get my rack stripped of linen and in the washer.

Berg finally got dressed and brought his stuff in. Washer started, I went to the head, shaved and then gave myself a hobo bath. We were both clean as we were going to get. It was time to head to chow and I decided to chance it and hide my diet tag.

Bacon and sausage never tasted so good. We ate chow and headed back to the barracks. DI Faamate took Berg into the duty hut. While I was waiting, it was time to put all the stuff in the dryer and began doing what scrub stuff needed to get done.

Berg left the duty hut and the barracks. My name got bellowed out of the duty hut. I got in there, standing a few feet from the desk.

“Badzinski, you need to talk to Berg and try to get him to open up to you. I wasn’t able to get anything out of him. That’s it, now get the laundry done and get over to the classroom.”

As I walked out, I was a little busy. If I missed a history class that would blow. I went ahead and made both our racks. As I was going down the ladder well, it hit me that I hadn’t pulled my diet tag out of my pocket. Fuck, hopefully DI Faamate didn’t notice.

I made to the class and caught the tail end of another class on leadership. Then it was more time out on the parade deck. We were almost mistake free, nothing major that got us punished.

We spent an hour or so and then went back into another classroom. This one was in our last history class. This one covered from Vietnam to current time.

The Marine Corps was involved in a lot during Vietnam. There was Da Nang, the siege of Hue and the siege of Khe Sanh. The last two were major bloody battles. Marines were withdrawn in 1971 but made brief reappearances. This was during the evacuation of Saigon, and the attempted rescue of the crew of the SS Mayaguez which was a stain on the Marine Corps ethos of never leave a man behind.

58 marines were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War. There were 13,091 Marines killed and 88,594 were wounded during the war. This was more than WWI and WWII combined.

The years after Vietnam were fraught with other action. 23 Oct 1983 was one of the darkest days in Marine Corps history. It was the largest peacetime loss of Marines. 220 Marines died when the Marine barracks in Beirut was bombed. The invasions of Grenada in 1983, Panama in 1989, and the Persian Gulf War in 1990 rounded things out.

They then talked a little about the nicknames that had been bestowed on Marines. Leatherneck was the first. It was given due to the wearing of “leather stock” around the neck of the early Marines. Contrary to assertions made, it was used by enlisted personnel to improve military bearing and appearance by raising their chin high with a straight posture. This was a common practice of military units, such as the British during the 1800ís.

Then there is Jarhead. It originates from the “high and tight” haircut that is pretty much Marine Corps issue. It kind of makes the head look like a jar, thus Jarhead.

Devil Dog or Teuful Hunden, was probably not the verbiage used in the Corps but has become part and parcel of the image of the Marine Corps. Though time and time again Marines have shown they embody that moniker.

There was a quote from Ronald Reagan that I thought was very poignant.

“Some people wonder all their lives if they made a difference. The Marines don’t have that problem.”

We went out to the parade deck to practice drill until lunch. It was back to the diet lunch, although I would try and get a full lunch when I could and be happy with that.

The rest of the day was spent doing drill and having class time in the squad bay going over all the classes we’d had so far. We were going to have two exams next week on Friday. The first was an oral exam and the second was a practical application test.

When we were released to free time, I tried to engage Berg after taking a shower. He wouldn’t answer any question that I asked, even though I wasn’t even asking anything about his issues.

No matter what angle I tried he just ignored me and kept reading his Tanakh. Berg told me that it was the Jewish equivalent of the bible. It was actually the only thing he said to me. I finally gave up when Becker and five other guys asked me about a study session.

It actually felt good to help the guys out. We went over the stuff they were having issues with. I could tell they’d started keeping up with studying their Warrior Book. I helped for about twenty minutes before we chugged our canteen and hit the rack.

I had the last Firewatch before lights on. The Berg porta potty rack was already ripe by the time the moonbeam shone in my eyes. I only gave myself one concession when doing the Firewatch roster. I was always the roamer; I took varied actual watches though.

I guess Berg was going to continue his rampage as the mad shitter. I woke him up about ten minutes before everyone else.

“Look here fucknut, you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But you’re going to clean up your own shit. Strip the bedding and get the washer going, then get in the shower.”

“But I don’t...”

“You saw me do it, figure it out and get it done.” I turned and walked off; I had my own shit to worry about though I’d check in on him.

I sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to getting my wisdom teeth pulled, though it would probably give me an opportunity to get a real meal beforehand. I’d be on one sick day in the quarters and then 2 days on light duty with no running or lifting. Somebody would be bringing me my meals for those days.

I got cleaned up and checked the medical calendar to see who else was going to the dentist. There were three others today, with only one other with me at 1300hrs. Everyone got their assigned time, and I gave the copy to DI Oyono.

The day started off with PT and then chow. After we ate, they decided to work off what little I was able to eat. We started out with the obstacle course and then finished with a 2.5-mile run.

I was pretty worn out by the time we made it to the barracks to change. The rest of the platoon went out to do the final class of bayonet training. Instead, I sat at my Scribe table and worked on the next two weeks of the Firewatch roster.

I was almost finished when I heard my name yelled from the duty hut. It was a surprise, because I hadn’t realized that SDI Brooks had made it into the squad bay. I got up and pounded on the sounding board and was called in.

“Badzinski, finish up what you’re currently doing. I have a job for you to do.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Make it quick.”

I beat feet back to the Scribe table. The rest of the Firewatch roster took about 5 minutes. Pounding the board, I was called in and handed over the fire roster. I got handed a manila folder.

“Take this over to the company office. Give it to GYSGT Bowdin. You’re to wait until he gives you an item to bring back.”

“AYE SIR.”

The company office was pretty much deserted. The duty NCO announced me to GYSGT Bowdin. I turned the envelope over and was told to sit in the front office and wait. I didn’t want to be bored, so I started going over my Warrior Book. It was about 15 minutes before I was called to collect another manila envelope to take back.

I made my way back to the barracks and turned it over. It was time to head over to the Mess Hall for lunch. It was so good to have a full meal again. Like the last time, I took as much as they would give me.

Making my way to the dental office, I was dreading this visit. When I got inside, I was joined by another recruit, Ravi Marwah. We checked in and sat in the waiting room. They actually had a clock in the office. I’d only seen a clock about three times or so since arriving at boot camp and only in office areas.

I waited for about 45 minutes before I got called to the back. They got me seated and began to get me prepped. They started with the numbness q-tips, two per side upper and lower. It was a few minutes before the dental assistant came in with the Novocain and shot up my mouth. I was curious why this was being done this way, as I’d always heard they knocked you out when pulling wisdom teeth. The dentist came in.

“So, we ready to get started?”

I nodded yes, and the next thing I knew a towel draped over my eyes. Feeling my mouth being pried open and then metal things poking around in my mouth. Next thing I knew the first tooth was being wiggled then all of a sudden there was a lot of pressure. It came out fairly easy, along with the next two as well. The fourth was a whole different story.