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

Orlando FL

Summer of 1970

Good times

Snake

Ft Leonard Wood, 1970. We were still in the reception center and knew absolutely nothing about how the army works. Several of us were sitting around talking about nothing when a guy in a funny hat came up and joined us. Pretty soon he asked if any of us liked horses. Several of us dummies said yes...and we spent the next 2 days mucking out stalls at the post riding academy.

Army lesson #1: NEVER speak unless directly spoken to.
lesson #2: ALWAYS stay in the middle of every line. All details will be chosen from 1 end or the other.

Basic for me was at lackland afb the summer of 93. I learned quick that if I kept a low profile and stayed out of the instructors crosshairs I'd be ok. Last week of basic and the instructor didn't even know my name.....perfect.
I cannot remember the name of the room we met in in the barracks. It's where we were given our mail and got instruction from our DI. One of the guys in my flight farted the most vile stench I've ever encountered. The instructors were gagging. The farter was told to go [bleep] and not to come back until it was all out of him. Wouldn't ya know, that stinky bastid ended up being my roomie at Shepard until he got kicked out. His boots stunk worse than his ass when he took them off.

1965 Paris Island, on the march to our first over nite at Elliot's Beach one of the recruits screwed up. He spent the night sitting in a tree yelling "cheep cheep I am A [bleep] bird", fire watch had to go by every round and make sure he was still cheeping.

Aaah... Basic.

Remember with nostalgia the looks on the DI's faces at the shooting range after they tell the recruits to clear their weapons, stand, aim downrange and pull the trigger.

And then you hear the "Boom".

Bet that wasn't all you heard.

We had a bulletin board on the quarterdeck, all GF pictures were posted on it.
Affectionately known as the "HOGBOARD"

During basic we had 2 instances of serious theft, both in my company but neither in my platoon. The 1st was a guy who decided to steal an M16 piece at a time and mail them home. He got caught with the 1st piece when it went through an xray at the base post office.
The other was a live grenade stolen from the grenade range. At 2am the next morning the MP's did a barracks shakedown and found it in a guy's locker.

Nether of these gentlemen was ever seen again.

I had a birthday party in the squad bay in June of 1990. MCRD

My mom had sent me a package..... sigh..

Anything larger than a letter had to be opened in front of the DI's, and as with most things in USMC boot cam, there was no time for carefully opening a package. Everything you did in USMC boot camp was done with a sense of raging urgency. I swear to god gentlemen... Brushing your teeth, raging urgency, you could actually injure yourself brushing your teeth. Pissing, raging sense of urgency. When it was time for USMC recruits to piss, 78 men would accomplish the violently horrifying 58 gallon expulsion of crystal clear urine into 6 urinals and 4 toilets in 4.5 seconds.

So, naturally, when it was time to open a package at mail call in the squad bay, it was done with raging urgency by yours truly.

"Faster Shaw! Open it now Shaw! Now! fivefourthreetwo-one..!!!!!"

Yeah, I gutted that jumbo sized padded manila envelope like 2 starving timber wolves fighting over a snow shoe hair. The envelope was reduced to two halves in a fraction of a second. One half in each hand spread outwardly above my shoulders... Time stopped as I stood there with little birthday party hats, glitter, confetti and party horns raining down from above my head. (step dad was a Marine, I knew right away this was his idea)



3 USMC drill instructors stood before me, lightly sprinkled with glitter and confetti pieces.

It was the stuff that drill instructors dream of at night, a gift from god himself, given to his beloved USMC DI's.

I believe I was accused, tried and charged with attempted murder by sparkly party paraphernalia assault..... This all took about 25 seconds if I recall correctly, and it involved a lot of screaming, vein popping, spit sprinkling screaming.

I was the 3rd squad leader, I had grown accustomed to "pushing" for my squad member's pfuk ups. I was in plenty good shape, and I got to pick 20 fellow recruits to join me in my birthday party thrashing.

There was so much yelling and screaming, you couldn't make sense of any of it, it was just a buzzing blur of rage and fury.... I picked out all the slackers, all the a-holes and all of the "invisible men". You know the invisible men, those are the ones you see at graduation day and think to yourself "who the pfuk are you?" because they are so good at conforming and blending in that they NEVER draw attention to themselves.

We wore the party hats with the little rubber bands that went under our chins, we tossed the glitter in the air, made it rain... We tooted the party horns as we flipped and flopped like a live fish in a hot fry pan...

And like I say, I did it every day..... So I didn't mind one bit. I really enjoyed watching the first timers flop spastically, trying to keep up with the DI's intentionally confusing commands.

Good times.... Good times.

Half the pictures were supplied by recruit's sisters or cousins, so it looked like they had a girlfriend.

lmao!

day room

I had a few experiences in boot camp that shaped my life. MCRD San Diego, July 1972. Receiving Platoon in boot camp. We were dressed in our unstarched utilities, top button fastened, black high top Converse tennis shoes, standing at attention in formation, along with several hundred other recruits, surrounding the mess hall at zero dark thirty. DI's were prowling up and down the formations screaming and yelling, and looking for any poor recruit they could abuse. All of a sudden, their was a loud scream, then the sound of breaking glass and as a body flew from the third story window of one of the surrounding barracks, landing with a loud thump on the concrete below, illuminated only by the glow from the street lamp. I thought to myself, what in the *#&@ was I doing here?

Poor kid at the rifle range decided he was going to shoot his toe and get out of boot camp. He miscalculated the energy created by 51,000 psi driving a 7.62x51mm, 150 grain ball projectile out the barrel of his M-14. He blew off his foot and was a bloody mess. BTW, he got his discharge papers out of boot camp.

the week before we graduated basic, we were getting back from another road march, and just like normal, the cattle car doors opened, and drill sergeants started the yelling to move-move-move.

One guy lost his footing and landed both knees on the concrete curb, breaking them both.

That had to suck.

Similar thing happened at Parris Island in 1968 as related by my "brother". Guy decided to shoot off his finger with an M-14 but took off most of his hand instead.


I am very happy to report that I had a most uneventful 8 weeks of Basic Training at Ft. Jackson, SC, followed by an equally uneventful but very interesting 8 weeks of Infantry AIT.

I was in boot camp during Christmas. Our CC had everyone tie a block sock on the end of our bunks on Christmas eve and he put treats in each sock for us.

From 1600 on Christmas eve till 1600 on Christmas day we were 'off the clock'. We went to a movie (on post, since we couldn't leave) and watched Raiders of the Lost Ark.

When a few of us returned to the squad bay it was 1605 and the CC was there. The first words out his mouth were 'GET DOWN'

Well it was past 1600 and we were ready to start cranking again. He let us stay in the position for 30 seconds and then said 'Merry Christmas, now get up'

Didn't see him the rest of the day.

I remember basic training on tank hill at ft. Jackson at this time of year back in 1970.

all kidding aside, the e-6 drill sergeant kept telling us in the mess hall to "eat up and get out; eat up and get out."

and that's exactly what we did.

at night the barracks were stifling hot, especially for us lowly e-1's who lived on the top bunks.

I later realized there were about five trng companies going through mess, and it was organized like clock-work. well, at least as good as the military could organize anything.

How about the ex-girlfriend from hell vs drill sergeant story.

Day before I left for boot, the girl I was dating invited me over to a "party" - hell I figured it was a going away event for yours truly.

Turns out, it was a high school graduation party with her friends - she went to a different HS than me.

While there, I talked to her dad, a Sgt Major at the local reserve unit. He told me we needed to talk, but I didn't get the chance.

The gf wrangled me and in what was one of the most odd situations, she introduced me to her new boyfriend.

I said, "That's great. Hopes it work out." Then asked for my class ring back, and she said it was in her room, she would get it later.

I wasn't waiting. Don't know what happened or what game she was playing, but she left with her new guy back to the party. I went upstairs and found her door locked, for the moment. A little 10 wide pursuasion, and I got my ring back and left.

Her Dad just sat there in the chair and said he was sorry and that he would take care of the door.

Apparently, she-bitch had a change of heart while I was in basic, and would call for me repeatedly at the CQ office, sometimes a couple times a week. It was getting old, and quite frankly, it was drawing too much attention to me, when I had enough to deal with.

Each time, I would get to the phone and administer a Travisesque "GFY" and return to whatever I was doing.

One time, when I was actually on CQ duty she called and I gave her the usual. The senior drill sergeant was on duty as well, and of course he was a little curious, so I gave him the story.

When she called back a few minutes later, he answered the phone.

I thought the stuff he yelled at us recruits was scary; but the line he gave her was so foul, vile, and just downright subhuman, that I didn't know whether to laugh or ask for forgiveness from God for even hearing it.

When he was done, he hung up the phone, and said, "You'll never hear from her again."

And that was that.

Great stories. The 'MoH' winner tale is my fav' so far.

Thanks for sharing, and to you all for serving.

it was better to serve than tuck my tail and flee to Canada. but, as it turned out, ol Jimmah Carter would have made it right.

Trickey Dick got us out of Vietnam, and now the Vietnamese quality TV's are some of the best products out there.

by 1970, the dedicated LIFERS I served under knew the gig was up. and it was sad. things should have been different.

but, life goes on.

One day, while in basic or AIT, we were called to attention in our barracks beside our bunks. Two MPs escorted a recruit down each row and he looked intently at each face. They left and went to the next barracks and on and on. Seems this recruit was on guard duty one night, and was relived by a "fellow" recruit who had no M16. He handed over his M16 to his relief recruit and went back to the barracks and went to sleep.The Officer in charge of the guard detail discovered no one at this post. Someone in a uniform walked off with an M16. This recruit was facing a court marshall and was trying to ID who he turned his M16 over to. Never heard anymore.