The "Heavy"

After completing a few 13-week cycles, the drill instructor is moved up to the position of Experienced Drill Instructor (EDI), also called the "Heavy."  His job consists of constant corrections, dispensing punitive "Incentive Training" (IT), and keeping unremitting pressure on recruits to pay attention to details. He also teaches and reinforces academic knowledge to recruits.

SSgt 'C' was the "Heavy" for my platoon (2074).  This cat was hard, firm, fair, and funny at times.  During one of our drilling sessions in First Phase, we were doing facing movements.  SSgt 'C' would call out, "Right Face!" and we would perform the movement.  As reinforcement to do the action correctly, SSgt 'C' demonstrated the movement and yelled out, "It is cock, and drive!  Not turn, and slime!"  Unless you were there, it probably wouldn't be as funny as it still is to me.  I can still see him doing it properly with the 'cock and drive' and then mimicking our movements with the 'turn and slime'.

SSgt 'C' was instilled fear, but commanded respect.  I recall a number of interactions with the "Heavy", both good and bad.  One, I had during First Phase, don't remember why exactly (medical, dental, something), but I was by myself while the rest of the platoon was at the classroom.  Done with whatever it was I was supposed to be doing, SSgt 'C' escorted me to be with the rest of the platoon.  While walking 'briskly' to the classroom area, we passed behind the barracks close to the parade deck.  It was graduation day for some Marines, civilians could be seen scattered about as they were being shown the training areas by the graduates.  Out of nowhere, SSgt 'C' turned his head and said, "See that fine looking girl over there?"  Being only a couple paces behind him, I turned, looked, and said, "Sir, Yes Sir!"  He immediately spun around and started yelling at me for "eye balling his area".  We started walking again then he turned around again and asked, "You think I'm an a**hole, don't you?"  I yelled, "Sir, no sir!"  We took two more steps, then he turned and asked, "Why the hell not!"  That question was almost comical to me at the time, because I did think he was a prick for asking if I saw that good looking girl and then ripping me for looking.  But, I was forewarned by my recruiters, prior to leaving for boot camp, that mind-games were part of the package.  So, I responded with, "Because the Drill Instructor is just doing his job, Sir!"  I believe SSgt 'C' didn't expect that, he looked me up and down, brandished a slight smirk, and said, "Very well."  Nothing more was said. The rest of the way.

We found out near the end of recruit training that SSgt 'C' wasn't a rifleman, or a machine gunner, or even a tank driver like we all thought or at least tried to guess, but was an F-18 jet engine mechanic.  What a shock!  This hard-charger was in aviation?  Couldn't believe it.  Anyone can be a Drill Instructor with the right mind, motivation, and training.

What do you remember about your platoon's "Heavy"?

The Senior

The Senior Drill Instructor is like your dad.  There to instruct, correct, reproof, and ultimately discipline you if needed.  Senior Drill Instructors hold a respected position.  They are set apart from the other Drill Instructors by the wearing of a black sword belt instead of a green duty belt.  A Senior Drill Instructor is ultimately accountable for the training of the platoon and for the efficiency of his assistant Drill Instructors.

I remember my Senior vividly.  A machine gunner by MOS, SSgt 'K' was a massively built man.  His forearms and biceps would rival any Olympiad.  He had to have custom made 'Charlie' Shirts so they wouldn't rip when he flexed and moved.  As a platoon, we thought we could taken any other platoon, as long as the Senior was out front.  (Of course, as Marine recruits, you think you can do anything anyway).

The Senior wasn't as explosive as the "Heavy," but you didn't want to piss him off.  I remember a couple of key moments in boot camp where the Senior lost his mind.  One instance he had us in the pit, for what offense I cannot recall.  Lucky for us, in 3rd phase, the pit was right outside our barracks.  We were "making it rain," while standing on the 3rd deck catwalk, SSgt 'K' was yelling out commands, "Back, belly, back, belly, back, belly!"  If you don't have the mental picture yet we rolled in the sand from our backs to our fronts.  Needless to say we were covered.

One other time, we were drilling.  Again, I don't know who or what happened (the benefits of being short and in the back of the platoon), but the Senior stopped us, threw his sword, slammed his cover on the parade deck, jumped up and down a couple times, shook his hands at us, called us "Stupid mother*******", picked up his trash and walked off.  As we watched him walk off between a set of barracks, I thought to myself, "We are going to die."  Then I noticed the Heavy.  Arms crossed, back was to us, watching the Senior leave, rocking back and forth, heel to toe.  He turned his head and said with a sinister voice, "Good!  You pissed off daddy, now you're mine!"  When the Senior disappeared, we were double-timed to the pit for one of the worst thrashings we ever had.

The Senior was something else.  I do have numerous other accounts, but for brevity, left them out. 

What memories do you have of your Senior Drill Instructor?

Drill Instructors

From the welcoming D.I. at the San Diego airport to those of Platoon 2074, 2nd Battalion, Echo Company, my encounter with drill instructors while at recruit training was non-stop.


The receiving, or "forming week" Drill Instructors are not nearly as aggressive as the ones we meet later.  During these first 5 days, we learn the basics: how to march, how to wear our uniform properly, how to fall in, and of course the POA, or Position of Attention. This period of time allows recruits to adjust to the recruit training way of life before the first actual training day.

Then, we were taken to our training companies and we "meet" our drill instructors for the first time.  We marched to our barracks, positioned our seabags on the deck in front of it and was led inside the squad bay.  I was in awe as they were introduced and marched out of the "head shed" or "house".  The Senior was an ominous looking creature.  Huge, was a member of the Marine Corps Body Building Team, Charlie shirt stretched around his bulging biceps.  My first thought was, "Whoa!"  My second, "We are going to die."

Once everyone was introduced, the lead receiving D.I. saluted the Senior, said "Take these recruits and make them Marines," or at least something to that effect, and walked out the door. As soon as the door closed and latch snapped, all hell broke loose.  Those Smokey covered Marine Drill Instructors exploded all over us, ordering us back down below to get our gear.  We were scattering like cockroaches in a bright room.  We didn't know which way was up, down, or out.  Worse off, were us poor boogers that couldn't find our seabags once outside.  Funny how you can't remember where you were standing when you put the thing down, funny how you can't read your name when your scared out of your mind, funny how 84 seabags can look the same all lined up.  Honestly, I think there were drill instructors outside switching bags around while we were inside meeting our drill instructors.

Day 1, hour 1, seemed like an eternity...but there was much more insanity to come.

Receiving

The above picture is a scene taken from the movie Full Metal Jacket.  Great movie about Marine Boot Camp and one Marine's (Pvt. Joker) view from recruit training all the way through to Vietnam.  (If you haven't seen it, I'll forewarn you there is a lot of cursing)  Unfortunately, I watched that movie a couple times prior to going to Boot Camp myself, so I had a preconceived notion of what boot camp was going to be like. When my receiving drill instructors were nothing like R. Lee Ermey's character, GySgt Hartman, I let my guard down, so-to- speak, during receiving week....Oops.

Receiving, or Receiving Week, or Receiving Platoon, which ever you prefer, is the first week at the Depot.  Recruits are shuttled through different areas quickly from haircuts to medical screenings throughout all hours of the night.  The number of individuals getting processed is insane during this time.  I believe a whole company is stood up at one shot.

The haircuts took 4 seconds a head, no they weren't gentle about it.  Your stripped down to your birthday suit and stuff all your civilian clothes in a cardboard box.  Your issued a uniform and rushed around from station to station for 48 hours, without any sleep.  You only stop for chow and the occasional head call.  You are so scrambled you don't have a bowl movement for three days.  When you finally get to hit the rack, you crash hard.  That's probably why the Receiving Drill Instructors are a little more laid back than the one's you get when you are finally assigned to a company and platoon.  They want you to get comfortable with your surroundings, get comfortable with the 80 other guys in your platoon, and acclimatize to the new environment. 

I remember laying the first night, from the top rack, staring out the window of the squad bay, watching planes taking off from San Diego airport, thinking to myself, "This isn't so bad. A little hectic, yes, but not horrible.  Here I am, California sun, palm trees, 80 other guys just like me in the same boat.  I've got this, piece of cake." 

Boy was I in for a rude awakening in about a day or two!!!

The Yellow Footprints

Yellow foot prints, where the journey began, where the rest of your life will be changed forever.

The thoughts of those footprints, they were everywhere.  Oh, how I loathed those footprints.

As the air brakes hiss, hearts beat faster, palms sweat, breaths become shorter and a bus of hopeful recruits are unified by the fear of the unknown. These are the experiences of so many recruits who have passed through San Diego's and Parris Island’s main gate.  Upon arriving, recruits are greeted by a drill instructor and given their first order, 'get off of my bus right now.'  As we scramble to get off the bus, the drill instructor is yelling, "Get on my yellow footprints right now."

I, along with thousands of recruits have stood on these symbols of the future throughout Marine Corps history during the late hours of their first night aboard the Recruit Depots.  Whether you went to MCRD San Diego or MCRD Parris Island, you stood on those infamous yellow footprints.

It's a standard speech when you arrive to the Depot.  “You are now aboard Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego, and you have just taken the first step toward becoming a member of the world’s finest fighting force, the United States Marine Corps.” 

While standing on the yellow footprints, the recruits receive a brief on how to stand at the position of attention, the difference between civilian laws and the Uniform Code of Military Justice, what it means to be a Marine. Then, they are told how thousands of Marines have stood on those very same yellow footprints before they have.  The new recruits then walk very quickly to the receiving area to begin a new chapter of their lives.  Never again will they be the same.

I've seen single sets of yellow footprints scattered about during my Marine Corps career.  In the offices of our commands Sergeant Major's office, outside of S-1, and other obscure areas.  But, they don't compare to the ones just off of the bus outside the receiving area of the Marine Corps Recruit Depots.

If you are into nostalgia, or just want a memento from a piece of time in your life, you can purchase some yellow footprints here:

http://www.grunt.com/yellow-foot-prints-outdoor-vinyl

Boot Camp

Boot Camp, or Recruit Training as it is formally called, is where boys are broken down and men built back up into Marines.  The longest and toughest of any service, the 3 months recruits spend at either Parris Island or San Diego are broken up into 3 phases of training.  First Phase - The Basics of Being a Marine, Second Phase - Rifle & Field Training, Third Phase - Practical Application and Polishing Skills.  Now these aren't the "official" titles of the 3 phases, just my paraphrase of what I remember.  In any case, from either coast, Marines look back at boot camp with fondness and disdain.

I've often said, "I'd trade nothing for the experience, but wouldn't want to do it again."

My plan is to break-down boot camp into several topical areas over the next few weeks.

What are some memories you have from Boot Camp?

Greeting Fellow Marines

Nothing screams "I'm a hard-charger" louder like a little 'false' motivation in the morning.  Well, for some of you it's false motivation (or at least it comes across that way).  For the rest of us, we eat, sleep, walk, talk, live the United States Marine Corps!  We Marines have a lingo all our own.  Whether it's the basic "Ooh-Rah!" or "Yut!" or just the Devil Dog 'bark' as we pass each other, or the more traditional and formal greeting of an officer, "Good Morning, Sir," we love to sound off to each other.

Lately, where I currently work, the phrase used by the Marines I meet and greet in the hall, when asked, "How's it going?" or "What's going on?"...I receive a reply of, "Just living the dream!"  Living the dream?  Who's dream are you living?  I've asked that a time or two.  I usually received a laugh and "No really sure," as a response.

As I try and think back to what was our usual or unusual greetings, the first one that came to mind is one of my favorites.  "How are you doing on this fine Marine Corps Day?"  Every day is a 'fine' Marine Corps Day, so it would stand to reason that one would pose a question in this way.  Of course, the only acceptable response is, "OUTSTANDING!"  Or at least some derivative of that, like, "Out-Freaking-Standing, Staff Sergeant!"  Nothing more motivating than some expletives intertwined within your response to a fellow Marine's greeting.

"Ooh-Rah, Devil Dog!", "Ooh-Rah, Motivator!", "Hey there, Leatherneck," are a few others.  These were normally presented by a SNCO to a junior enlisted Marine.  I had a Staff Sergeant, at my MOS school, that would greet us every morning with, "Good Morning, Leatherheads."  "Leatherheads," obviously derived from Leathernecks and Jarheads, always thought that one was kind of funny.  I also remember using "Whassup?"  We used that way before the 'Whassup guys' made it popular in the beer commercials.  Usually, we only used that one at the barracks or with other guys in the shop.  Hate to see some Lance Corporal use "Whassup, sir?" with a field-grade officer.  No, that might be funny to, from a distance.

I did have one greeting all my own.  Personally have used it numerous times, and still do on occasion.  The first time I used it, was on my unit's Sergeant Major, which really threw him for a loop.  It went like this, "Ooh-Rah, Sergeant Major!  How are you doing this fine day in my illustrious Marine Corps?"  "Your "illustrious" Marine Corps?"  Was the response, along with a good laugh that day.  Now that it is published, is that phrase considered copyrighted?  If so, I give my fellow Marines permission to use it.  But if not, continue to greet fellow Marines, active duty, former, and retired, with zeal.

How do you greet your fellow Marines?