Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire boot camp stories - waxing nostalgic

Got to thinking a couple decades ago in Fort Sill.

Mom sent me a care package with some pecan pralines in it.

Drill sergeant had me open the package, then denied me having the treats, "Because there weren't enough for everyone."

I was pissed.

In my next regular letter home I told Mom what had happened.

A week later, a BFB shows up. (That's BIG F'N BOX.)

I open it up, and in it are 5 dozen small bags of pralines, individually wrapped. Three separate bigger bags for each drill sergeant. One for the Top, and two more for the CQ guys that had to carry it down. (Mom was in the Army as well)

As I passed out the treats, and everyone was enjoying a taste of home, I finished and sat down to enjoy mine, at which point Drill Sergeant Johnston (the white one; Johnson was the black one) called me up and gave me the standard riot act for being one up'd by a WAC.

I put down a push up for nearly every praline in the box, before I was able to eat. Took almost an hour. My arms felt like jello, and were shaking like hell every delicious bite I took.

He later told me, in a moment of weakness I'm sure, that it was the best damned treat he's had in a long long time.

I remember one of our TI's carefully bending, feeling each and every letter for pictures before passing it out...
Racy GF pictures got forcibly passed around for all to enjoy

Tech school=Sheppard AFB: one of our guys was in the Civil Air Patrol for several years before enlisting in the AF. Tired of the 3.2 beer at the EM club, he had his mother send him his CAP uniform. With it, he enjoyed three evenings at the O club.

I remember all of us being punched in the back by ALL the D.I.'s in our series pretty much every other day for 4 months.
Our platoon even took the rifle range w/high scores, didn't matter at all.

Used to have my dad mail me the sports section in small snippets so they wouldn't know.

Air Force never has been too concerned with individual marksmanship. Lackland, 1958: We were supposed to have a day on the range to shoot the M1 Carbine, had a mini-typhoon that day, several inches of rain. We stayed in barracks, practiced stripping and reassembling the rifle a little more, called it a day. Never fired a shot in Basic.

I never fired a shot until on my second enlistment, got to qualify with the M1 (M2?) Carbine in 1963, AR15 (yes, AR15 by Armalite) in about January of 1964. Never fired another shot until 1966, qualified again with M16 this time with the grenade launcher under the barrel. Kicked like the devil. Shot the revolver a couple of times in 1970 or so. That was it.

Well, there was the time we had bayonet drill, which by then was more or less show and tell, and when we turned in weapons the count came up one bayonet short. We had one really nasty malcontent who was the obvious suspect, but no proof. Things were a little intense with the drill instructors for a couple days until they could get him general discharged out.

About the same here. Fired the carbine in basic in 1956, then once more in 1960. On Taiwan during the crisis of 1958-59 when invasion from mainland China was a real concern, we never handled or saw any weapons, although supposedly there were M2s. Don't know what plans the brass had for us, for evacuation or defense. It was a definite topic of concern and conversation among us enlisted airmen.

Paul

After Sunday morning religious service, a guy in the company above us took a nose dive off the stair well. He was flopping around on the stairs as we were ordered to formation. Never found out if he survived...they (the company above us) also had a guy called "the stroker".... he was caught wacking off one night so the company commander moved his rack to the middle of the barracks..supposedly, this didn't deter him...

Great story RWE!

My basic training was with the M-14. Carried that sucker everywhere, usually at Port Arms and at double time. It took a long time to realize that the M-14 was really a fine weapon. I also remember that when Basic was over, I was in probably the best physical condition of my life.

I tossed a cigarette butt on the ground once; DI made me dig a 6x6x6 foot hole and bury that butt. Field stripped em after that.

Back in 63 Parris Island about 2AM I was on fire watch and heard the toilet keep being flushed, walked in on a country boy from Arkansas, he just stood there flushing the john. I said "Lenard, what the F#%& are you doing?"
He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I've never lived in a place that had a flush toilet."
Later at Camp LeJeune, during ITR we were learning to toss hand grenades. Some kids just broke out in a sweat holding a live one with the pin pulled, when the instructor told him to toss it using the stiff arm throw he let the damn thing go on his upward movement, gernade went straight up over our heads and landed about 5' in front of the bunker, you never saw 80 Marines hit the deck so fast and get covered with dirt.
I don't know what ever happened to the kid but he was escorted off the range by the company LT>

During basic @ Ft Leonard Wood - after bivouac, we wound up 1 bayonet short. The company CO stood the entire company, in a freezing rainstorm, at attention for 4 hours - 2300 - 300. At roll call, 50+% were on sick call (upper respiratory distress) - the CO pitched a fit. Result - a bird Col (MD) put the ENTIRE company on sick call! The company CO was RIF'ed after our cycle.

This is a second-hand story. I did not serve. This came to me from my brother in law who served in the Marines aboard the U.S.S. America loading ordinance on F-4's.

He told me when the buss pulled in at Paris Island, the Marine in charge hopped on the bus and yelled, "YOU'VE GOT 30 SECONDS TO GET OFF THIS BUS AND 25 OF THEM ARE GONE!"

Welcome to the U.S.M.C.

My favorite story from SOI at Camp Pendleton: There was a real goofball in my platoon (I mean really dense)and was a favorite volunteer by the instructors because there was no telling what he was going to say or do that would bring a laugh. We were in an unofficial class waiting for the real one on claymores to begin (that's where I really learned the meaning of hurry up and wait!). The unofficial class involved setting trip mines with grenades. They've told us about a thousand times that we are only using dummy grenades until the next week. One instructor pops clip, pulls pin and rolls it toward a few of the instructors talking a few feet away (they enjoyed a good prank like the rest of us). Goof ball proceeds to scream GRENADE and throw himself on top of this dummy grenade, essentially giving his life for all of ours like all of the stories we were told in boot camp. The instructors took an MRE carton and made a crude Medal of Honor and forced him to wear it for the next week or so. Best laugh I had all of SOI!!

SOI is also where I learned the blue surprise. An instructor took one of those dummy grenades and dropped it down the ventilation pipe of one of the billion or so porta-pissers on that base. We had just watched an instructor enter immediately after it had been cleaned (they would wait for hours if necessary to avoid going into one that we peons had defiled). That blue water must have hit that guys @$$ at about 100 mph. He came running out of that thing with his boxers on, his cammie pants still at his boots cussing and screaming the name of the instructor that was apparently getting him back for something. We all crapped with extreme caution anytime we did exercises with dummy grenades!! Somehow we were allowed to laugh because the instructors had all of his attention. They were all on the ground rolling!

One of our wise-ass DIs did something like that with CS grenades (AKA funkbomb). Funny as hell except for the guys in the crappers.

when we got off the bus at Lackland AFB about 0100 14 Feb 1981, a bunch of TI's descended on us and started the in-your-face, up and down, bag drop, BS. One of the TI's punched one of the trainees in the stomach and dropped him and we were seriously thinking WTF. a few days before we graduated, one of our TI's introduced us to another TI and asked if we recognized him. we obviously didn't. It was the "trainee" who got fake punched in the gut. our TI also told us a little about himself and the fact that he was 25 years old. we couldn't believe it. he seemed 40. they all seemed 40. i doubt if any of them were over 30 or so.

My favorite story from boot camp involved one of my DI's. He was a small guy about 5'6" and maybe 150 lbs but he was solid. Two blackbelts. Thickest Filipino accent I've ever heard! He would walk up to one of us southerners and spout off something. DI speak is hard enough to understand but his accent made it almost impossible. I would just look at him like a deer in the headlights. He would really flip out. I could only respond with my best recruit speak. Sir this recruit can't understand the drill instructor's accent. Next thing I know it sounds like King of the Hill. "I don't have an accent. You have the accent you &@?!ing redneck!"

Other translations:
After hygiene time- What did you shabe wit recwoot a debit cawrd?!?
Or What did you shabe wit a $&@?ing bwick?!?

But if I was in hand to hand I would definitely want him in my corner. Awesome DI and NCO!

MCRD, San Diego. In the classroom for mail call one evening. Goofy kid from provo Utah had f**ked up doing something. I mean this kid was spastic!! DI yelled at him "why the hell did you joins my Marine Corps!!! Why didn't you join the army?!?!"

Kid answered deadpan like "sir, the army recruiter took the private to meet the marine recruiter!"

DI went ballastic.