After graduation from High School in 1974, I spent the month of July in Hilo, Hawaii, the Big Island, at my friend Karleen’s grandmother’s house. Mrs. M had been so kind as to allow Karleen to invite some of her friends to stay with her that summer, so our mutual friend, Lisa, and I accepted her invitation. We spent a wonderful time there in paradise. My memories of Hawaii helped me to survive my time in the Marine Corps Boot Camp.

I entered Boot Camp on the 22^nd of August, 1974. It was Hell, but I realized later that I had learned more in 93 days than I had learned in my four years in High School. I don’t want to denigrate our HS faculty, but they did not force feed us knowledge and experience to the breaking point as did the Marine Corps.

In Boot Camp, we had to remain silent unless we received a comand otherwise. If the Drill Instructor gave us a command such as, “Get by your footlockers!” we had to repeat the command by yelling at the top of our voices, “Sir, get by your footlockers, aye aye, sir!” and then do it immediately. If the Drill Instructor asked you something, you had to repond first with “Sir!” then the answer, then “Sir!” again. You had to refer to yourself in the third person, either as “the private” or, in my case, “Private Thomas.” If you had to go to the bathroom outside of our group bathroom breaks, you had to request an emergency head call in this manner, “Sir! The private requests an emergency head call, sir!” If you were standing in formation and made this request, when the Drill Instructor said “Permission granted,” then you had to yell, “Permission granted, aye aye, sir!” Then, you would take two steps backward, do an about-face, then go do your business. If you messed up on any part of this, the Drill Instructor would make you repeat the whole sequence until he was satisfied.”

My platoon of aproximately 80 men was divided into 4 squads. Each squad had 4 fire teams of four men, and a squad leader. We had some real characters in my squad, including Privates Shaw, Rainwater, Kozacziewitz (AKA Alphabet), and Milburn.

When you imagine a Marine in your mind, you don’t imagine Private Milburn. He was white, skeletally thin, with pencil-thick arms. His face and back were covered in acne. And, he had multiple facial tics that were active all the time. He had no control over his eyebrows. They went up and down all the time, sometimes in sync, sometime not. He blinked three times as much as anyone else. His scalp moved back and forth. Sometimes he would jerk as if someone had stuck him with a pin. He had a hard time standing at attention. His voice still cracked like a thirteen-year-old’s. He put the “squeak” in pipsqueak. He got our squad in trouble because he couldn’t keep up with our PT (Physical Training.) He was always lagging behind.

In order to graduate from Boot Camp, you had to achieve a minimum score in the PFT (Personal Fitness Test.) There were three tests: situps, pullups, and a three-mile run. Each test was worth up to 100 points, and a perfect score was 300 points. The minimum score for pullups was three pullups for 5 points each, or 15 points. Twenty pullups was 100 points. I could do 18 to 20, depending on the day, thanks to my swimming training. Private Milburn could do 1 ½.

I had been warned before I went into the Marine Corps to never, never, NEVER volunteer for anything, and to keep my head down in Boot Camp. Just fly under the radar and don’t take things personally. Despite that, I got assigned two special duties that no one else had: Harmonica Man, and pullup trainer. As Harmonica Man, I had to carry my harmonica with me at all times, and to play on command either “The Marine Corps Hymn” while the platoon sang along, or “Taps” as a solo. As pullup trainer, I had 5 privates assigned to me. My job was to get them to do at least the minimum of three pullups without stopping. Private Milburn was assigned to me.

So, while the rest of the platoon was polishing their boots and brass, or studying their “Marine Corps Handbook,” I would take my five privates out to the pullup bars. We were able to talk quietly as each private took turns. I discovered that Private Milburn was very intelligent, and that he had gone into Boot Camp with a guaranteed MOS (Military Occupational Specialty), which was a rarity. He was going to be in the Marine Corps Band. He played the flute and drums. Since I also played the flute, and I had considered trying out for the band, we had something in common that we could discuss.

Now, there was a side incident that occurred which caused me to have some empathy for Private Milburn. One day, of our three Drill Instructors, Sergeant Smith was in charge of us. We hated him. It wasn’t just that he was mean, but he was nearly incompetent in calling close order drill. He couldn’t keep the rythym of the march, and he had a speech impediment that made his commands nearly unintelligible. And he was always gloating about how many “gooks” he had blown away in Viet Nam, and how he was just itching to do it again, and that he would blow one of us away if given half a chance.

On the day in question, because of Sergeant Smith’s lack of organizational skills, we had gone the whole day without a bathroom break since before breakfast at 0530. Then, having just eaten dinner, we were assembled at attention next to the wash racks outside our squad bay at 1800. Sergeant Smith was upset with us, so he jumped up on the wash racks and began pacing back and forth while he excoriated us in the most rude manner. Epithets were flying as he wound up to higher and higher levels of disgust. While I stood at attention, having my soul ground into dust, behind Sergeant Smith was the most beautiful, buttermilk-cloud sunset that I’ve ever seen in my life. It was breathtaking. I stood there thinking about the juxtapostion of the evil spewing from Sergeant Smith’s mouth, and the wonder of wonders that God had rendered behind him.

Private Milburn took this moment to yell, “Sir, the private requests...”

“Shut up, private!” yelled the D.I.

Five minutes passed as the epithets rained down on us.

“Sir!!!” Private Milburn’s voice cracked and trembled as he continued, “The private requests an emergency head call! Sir!!!!”