After finishing breakfast, we were told to form up outside again. It was now around 0530 and still dark. We still couldn’t form up by last name in alphabetical order. Once again, the air was filled with obscenities and rapid fire insults. Finally we were in alphabetical order and ready to start the day. We were escorted through various buildings until we finally arrived at a large hall. We filled out some more paper work and then were taken to get haircuts. I was bald at the time and didn’t need one. Did this mean I could move onto the next station for further processing into the army? Of course not! It just meant I had the opportunity of waiting for 59 other soldiers to get their haircuts and come out and sit on the bench I was waiting on. After about an hour of waiting we were taken into another room to get our money card so we could buy some supplies. It was the army’s way of giving us a pay advance so we could have soap and tooth paste and shaving cream. Once we received this card, we were taken back to the area where we had received our haircuts. The barber wanted money! Everyone who got their hair cut had to cough up five bucks! I’m glad I shaved my head before I left. I honestly couldn’t believe that a mandatory haircut was costing these people money. Five bucks later we were taken to another building where we would be issued our military attire. This includes the Army Combat Uniform, boots, belt, under garments, shirts, and socks. The place where these clothes are issued is in a cave in the building we were in.
We were taken to a room with no windows once again. Civilians are the ones responsible for making sure we were issued everything accordingly. These civilians are the type that can’t get a normal job. They are missing most of their teeth, smell like dipping tobacco, and look like they haven’t bathed in a while. Of course they had to flash their coffee stained three toothed smile at us as we passed. I guess they get their pleasure by seeing new soldiers about to wet themselves from fear of the unknown. We were issued our clothing, tried it on, and then shoved it into the green duffel bag they issued us. We then proceeded to get our boots. The people who size our boots are from a different region of hell than most demons come from. They snarl at you when you tell them it doesn’t fit right. They look at you like you are stupid and then ask you if you know where your toes end. After giving them a prompt “yes” and telling them you need a bigger size, they roll their eyes and then tell you that the boots are supposed to fit snug. Unless you ask if your toes are supposed to be bent in the toe while walking they won’t give in to your cries. I was sized as a 9.5 boot when my foot was measured by the “professional”. I had been in the army for six months by this point and knew that wasn’t my boot size. I went up to a size 10.5 and finally found a fit. It was ridiculous and the boot lady argued with me the whole time telling me that they were going to be too big. I might add here that I never once got a blister from my boots that were allegedly too big. Other people suffered the fate from the wrath of the demons and had many blisters because they had “snug” fitting boots. I’m sure the boot ladies worked for the devil for many years in order to get that position.
We received a few other things such as eye protection, a stencil to put your name on things, and instructions on how to close your duffel bag (the army is made for idiots.) We were then taken to the little store to buy supplies that we would need (little did we know that we would be spending several hundred dollars there). We had a list that we had to follow so we would be ready for basic training. We had to buy spandex for our PT (physical fitness) shorts, combination locks, a hygiene bag, flip flops, a flashlight with a red lens, batteries, paper, pens, towels, wash cloths, and running shoes. The running shoes came as a shock. They weren’t even all that great and still cost 80 bucks. I learned a marching cadence a while back that mentioned that the army gives a hundred dollars and takes back 99. In no time the evil civilians had our money in their pockets again and we were left broke and shocked. We drudgingly went outside to where we had placed our duffel bags and waited for everyone to finish. The drill sergeant then marched us back to our bay to drop our things off in our locker. By now it was lunch time. We had lunch and then who knows what we did afterwards. Based on my memory I believe we filled out more paperwork and waited around some more.
The next day we woke up bright and early again and cussed at each other while we tried to be in formation by 4:15 in the A.M. This time we were dressed in our army combat uniforms and boots. We were starting to look like soldiers. It was freezing outside, so we had fleece caps on, and our jacket that was issued to us. We also had our retarded green gloves they issued us. They were leather and not designed for cold weather. We were still cold. We were then escorted into the army chapel (a big room with lots of seats arranged like a high school assembly hall). We filled out some more paper work and were then told to take off our tops. We removed the outer top and were left sitting in our tan army shirt. We were given alcohol swabs and then told to wipe down both shoulders and our triceps. Today was immunization day! Yay for needles! We were then escorted back into that God forsaken room with no windows and the rubber floor. This time the devil had brought his torture devices with him. I’ve been poked with needles in the past and normally don’t have huge issues with them. The difference between the civilian world and the Army is how the needles are inserted. In the civilian world you get to sit down while getting poked and you are warned about the injection as well as the needle is pulled out slowly to prevent bleeding. In the army you stand in an assembly line and walk past the various stations and get poked as fast and deep as physically possible. This usually amounts to blood rolling down one’s arm and onto the rubber floor. Drill sergeants and staff sergeants alike hate it when blood gets on their floor. They yell at the bleeders to grab gauze (about the size of a quarter), and then proceed to the next station where they poke you again and cause bleeding. It is a never ending battle. Several people almost fainted because of the shots. I, however, did not faint. We then stood in a line behind a computer and told the person our social security number (which has been told so much since I’ve been in the army that I think the world may know what it is better than me) so that she could record that we got poked by Hell’s minions with needles entirely too long for the required task.
Getting injected by needles takes a lot longer than one might think. While I was in a platoon of about 60 soldiers, I was in a company of around 300 soldiers. All of us went through everything mentioned prior to this moment at or around the same time. This is why it takes so long to do everything.
After we got shots we were sent back to our barracks/bay for clean up time. They call it bay maintenance. All this really entails is five guys cleaning and a hundred others lying around on their bunks. Some may read and ask why no one else was helping out. Well, in the army you are issued a mop, a bucket, a broom, a trash can, a rag, and that’s about it. How well can 100 soldiers clean with only 5 items? This meant it was nap time for me. I cleaned the day before so figured I could get out of it this time. I slept for a couple hours. Later on it was lunch time and we were taken by a sergeant to the anti-dining dining facility. We entered hell’s kitchen again and proceeded to stand at attention and parade rest until it was time to actually choose our food. Thankfully the army boils all their food and you can swallow it with little to no chewing. After choking down my food I went outside to stand in formation. Of course I wouldn’t want to let any down and make them think that we changed our attitude today, we swore at each other as we got into formation. We were later marched back to our barracks by a drill sergeant.
Sometimes drill sergeants like to stand on a soap box and think of as many things to say as possible that a private will laugh at. Why you ask? So he can yell at them for laughing while at the position of breath and blink…err….I mean attention. He decided that he was sick of people cussing and swearing because we were too stupid to line up in a formation. He chose to assign someone from each platoon as a guide. In order to choose a good leader he had to observe each of us and ask silly questions. He asked who had been in the ROTC program. A few people raised their hand. He asked them a few questions which most answered correctly. There was one however who didn’t know the difference between his right and left. The drill sergeant proceeded to tell him that he was more screwed up than a football bat and had more holes in his head than a waffle ball. This of course got a laugh out of the group and then got us yelled at again. He told us not to laugh and then proceeded to drill the private. The private was then asked if he was smarter than a 5th grader. Once again we laughed. We were starting to figure out the system though. They can’t smoke us until we pass our medical inspection. Oh the things we could get away with were slowly starting to come to our minds. The more we screwed off the madder the drill sergeant got. He couldn’t touch us though and we knew it. Eventually he gave up talking to us and dismissed us to our bay. We had to be back later around 2030 for bed check formation.
Once it was established that the drill sergeants were under our control, gangs began to form. My platoon was no longer the 61st platoon in alpha company. We were now 61st for life. Even though we would only be in this platoon for about five days. A private named Harris took it upon himself to become our fearless leader. He was usually the one yelling at other platoons and telling the entire company to shut the F up. He liked to take his shirt off and walk around the bay strutting his stuff. He was of African American decent. He was as black as they come and looked like a gorilla when he walked. He was a former drug dealer and was good at it. He wanted to leave that life and make a change. I highly doubt that though. I didn’t let him boss me around and I think he actually respected me for it. He of course always in passing would say “Hey Cebrowski, F*** you.” This of course was followed by a smile and a crap eating grin. I never took him seriously. He never threatened me or anything either.
2030 rolled around and it was time for formation. Cuss cuss, swear swear, shut up, attention, parade rest, attention, right face, left face, right race, count off, and a few commands later and we were done for the night. I talked with my friend on my cell phone for a little bit and decided I had better get to bed. The next morning we almost filed into formation like a group of soldiers should. There was still swearing of course. We were told that we would be passing off our medical requirements today. I was dreading it. I knew they were going to draw my blood, and I don’t do well with that. We were taken once again to the chapel and given our medical records with explicit instructions to not touch anything. We then were escorted to the medical facility around the corner. We filed in keeping our mouths shut. There was a group of benches right as one walks into the facility. We filed into the benches and were told to sit shoulder to shoulder 9 soldiers to a bench.
We were then told to fill out some information in the packet that we weren’t supposed to open. It was real simple stuff again like our SSN and a signature. People still managed to mess it up. They told us that in this building we would have our ears checked, our vision checked, our blood drawn, and X-rays for our teeth would be done as well. I am not exactly sure why they needed this again. We had done ears and vision and blood work when we enlisted. It seemed rather redundant. The only thing we truly needed was an X-ray of our teeth.
Before we could do any of this though we had to be issued appropriate ear plugs. They were weird looking. Almost like a spiral made of plastic that was supposed to cork screw the wax out of your ear. We were given explicate directions on how to put them in and how they should feel. We were then told to try them on. You have to load them into a handle and then pull your ear back in order to seat them correctly. The closest description of how it felt would be to compare it to sticking your finger much further up your nose than God had intended. Once I popped my ear cherry, I noticed how well they worked. I felt like I was in a sound proof room. The instructor kept talking to us but no one could hear anything. These would later be the end of some of my hearing in my left ear. That is for a later time though.
The weather in South Carolina is unpredictable. In the morning it is cold enough to give you frostbite, and in the afternoon it will give you heatstroke. We had not yet been issued canteens, and as a direct result we were starting to see some heat casualties. We couldn’t possible drink enough water with as many people as we had and only one drinking fountain. Oh well, I guess we work until we drop. I got my eyes checked. I could hardly read anything. He asked if I wore glasses. I told him no. He asked if I wanted glasses. I told him no. He said ok, and then wrote down that I had 20/20 vision. Works for me I guess.
The next stop for me was the hearing test. I usually passed these just fine and had nothing to fear. However, much like the dining hall line, we had to stand at an uncomfortable parade rest while in line. I started to lock my knees. I also looked up at the 2nd guy in front of me and noticed how bad the barber had cut his hair. He had some big moles and the razor basically ripped them off. Even a day later he still had some dried blood on them. I then started to think about how the blood test was after the hearing test, and I couldn’t take it anymore. The lack of water, the locked knees, and the thought of blood and needles was too much. I simply told the person in front of me and the person in back of me that I was about to pass out. They thought I was joking…ha ha…the joke was on them. The next thing I know they were calling for a drill sergeant and I was being carried by several of the sergeants to a bed to lie in. I blacked out, but I didn’t drop my medical folder. Hooah! They gave me some water and soon I was back in line waiting to have my ears tested. After that I went to the room to get my blood drawn.
I really hate needles in my vein. I don’t care if they are in my shoulder, but in my vein is somehow very disturbing to me. Not just that, but I don’t like to be touched at all on that part of my arm, for any reason. I got to the front of the line and was strapped into a chair. I told the lady that I was going to pass out and she said she would keep me awake. She was quite good actually, and I only started to feel dizzy toward the end. She saw this and made me smell the ammonia thing she had about 12 times. I made it though and survived to tell the story. This concluded the events for the day. Thank goodness.
The rest of the time while we were at reception, we watched a lot of boring power point presentations illustrating the rules of training, and how to manage our finances. We eventually got to meet our potential drill sergeants for basic training. Some of them were scary and said that their sole goal in life was to put us in a hospital. That made me feel lovely inside. We also got to meet the First Sergeant of the company we would belong to. He was cool. He talked a lot about weapons. He also told us that two of us in the group of about 250 would have the opportunity to fire an Anti-tank rocket if we shot really really well. I wondered who would be the one to shoot that rocket.
On Sunday, we finally found out the name of at least one of our drill sergeants. His name was Drill Sergeant Osborn. He was way relaxed and cool. He didn’t treat us like idiots because he knew we hadn’t learned anything yet. He was patient and fun. He told us exactly what we needed to do on Monday when we would ship to the Basic Training side of the fort. He prepared us for success. I hoped that the rest of our drill sergeants would be like him. He got some information from us and made us fill out some papers in a folder he issued us. When we were done he took us to chow. When we finished we formed up outside and were told to pack our things and bring our bags downstairs. Finally we were almost out of hell. Reception prior to Basic training is the longest and worst part of basic training ever.
We got back to the bay that night and there had been a little too much excitement and testosterone building up. I made my final phone call to my friends and settled into bed. A few minutes later I heard a lot of yelling and then stomping. Then I heard punches. We turned the lights on and saw blood covering the floor. Some of the people on the other end of the bay got into a fight and decided to take it out on each other. A private notified one of the night sergeants and he came up to talk to us. We had now cleared medical. Our power was gone. I will never forget the words he said as soon as he saw the blood. FRONT LEANING REST POSITION MOVE! We all just sat there stunned that we were about to get dropped. We all got down into a push-up position and waited for the count to begin. He just held us there. He started to walk down the aisle and asked what happened. No one moved or responded. ONE! We lowered our bodies towards the ground. He held us there. If you don’t know how miserable this position is, go and try it. You won’t last long. I don’t care who you are.
“Somebody better start talking. I don’t like to smoke you guys, but I will tonight if I have to. I can make 10 pushups last all night. TWO!”
We pushed up, sweat starting to form on our brows. How long would it take for someone to answer? I would have responded, but I didn’t see it, didn’t have names, and didn’t want to be beat for turning anyone in later.
“THREE! Is anybody ready to talk yet? Can you feel the burn? How are you going to basic training tomorrow if you can’t move your arms? You’re all in for a rude awakening when you get there. FOUR!”
I was wishing someone would speak up. We had been in this position for four minutes already and the situation wasn’t getting any better. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the movie Full Metal Jacket as I was pushing. A smile started to come across my face and my resolve to endure the smoking came back. This sergeant couldn’t smoke me! He couldn’t smoke a rock! I pushed up and called the count. We successfully completed one pushup. He then sped the count up and we knocked out a few more. He slowed down a bit and had us in the down position when a private couldn’t take it anymore. “Pansy!” I thought.
“Sergeant, a few of us were having a pushup competition and one of the private’s arms gave out and he knocked his nose on the ground.”
Wow, this should be fun I thought.
“Shut off the lights, go to bed, and stop trying to fight each other!” The sergeant said. “All it would have taken was a f****** answer. Next time an NCO asks what happened, tell him something! Get this cleaned up and get into bed.”
He walked away and we were left to ourselves. The room was much warmer now, and everyone was covered in sweat. The rest of the night went fairly uninterrupted. Basic training here I come…
I hate needles in the vein too!
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