After marching back from chow, the drill instructors made us close all the windows in the squad bay. I remember that vividly because it was me who had to close them while running at top speed. It was a hot October day on Parris Island, and the drill instructors said they had a day of fun planned for us. The Senior Drill Instructor was noticeably absent, and we had already learned to recognize that as a dangerous condition.
No air moved in the squad bay. No air conditioning and no fans. Seventy-two of us stood on line - two lines facing each other across the squad bay. Three drill instructors worked their way up and down the lines looking for any sign of weakness, any unauthorized movement, however slight or involuntary.
They cycled us onto the quarter deck in groups of approximately ten and exercised us vigorously to the point of temporary muscle failure. Then we would stand on line and try to recover. Many of us vomited our breakfast during the first round or two.
Side-straddle hops, push ups, bends and thrusts, mountain climbers, run in place, on your back, on your stomach, on your back, faster!. one two, one two, one two
This went on all morning. The quarter deck had become a lake of sweat. The drill instructors amused themselves by making us backstroke in the lake. The squad bay felt like the inside of a greenhouse - humid, stagnant, sweltering. The recruits standing on line, locked and cocked, began to sway a little. This lack of physical discipline incensed the drill instructors.
You better lock your doggone body.
By afternoon, some recruits were openly crying. Some couldn't find their legs after yet another session on the quarterdeck which brought the drill instructors down like wild dogs smelling blood. Weakness brought only more pain.
From the far end of the squad bay, I could see the entirety of the two lines of bald headed recruits swaying. They made me think of church bells ringing. Sweat and tears poured, snot ran, recruits mouthed pleas to God, curses, exhortations.
Soon, we began passing out. After the first of us fell, the rate increased quickly. You could tell it was real by the sound our heads made hitting the floor. We fell forward or backward like trees, splashing in the lake that had now spread across most of the deck.
That night, just before lights out and right after the Protestant lay leader had prayed aloud for Jesus' intervention, the Senior Drill Instructor asked how many wanted to go home. Several accepted the offer.
We woke the next morning fewer and harder..
No air moved in the squad bay. No air conditioning and no fans. Seventy-two of us stood on line - two lines facing each other across the squad bay. Three drill instructors worked their way up and down the lines looking for any sign of weakness, any unauthorized movement, however slight or involuntary.
They cycled us onto the quarter deck in groups of approximately ten and exercised us vigorously to the point of temporary muscle failure. Then we would stand on line and try to recover. Many of us vomited our breakfast during the first round or two.
Side-straddle hops, push ups, bends and thrusts, mountain climbers, run in place, on your back, on your stomach, on your back, faster!. one two, one two, one two
This went on all morning. The quarter deck had become a lake of sweat. The drill instructors amused themselves by making us backstroke in the lake. The squad bay felt like the inside of a greenhouse - humid, stagnant, sweltering. The recruits standing on line, locked and cocked, began to sway a little. This lack of physical discipline incensed the drill instructors.
You better lock your doggone body.
By afternoon, some recruits were openly crying. Some couldn't find their legs after yet another session on the quarterdeck which brought the drill instructors down like wild dogs smelling blood. Weakness brought only more pain.
From the far end of the squad bay, I could see the entirety of the two lines of bald headed recruits swaying. They made me think of church bells ringing. Sweat and tears poured, snot ran, recruits mouthed pleas to God, curses, exhortations.
Soon, we began passing out. After the first of us fell, the rate increased quickly. You could tell it was real by the sound our heads made hitting the floor. We fell forward or backward like trees, splashing in the lake that had now spread across most of the deck.
That night, just before lights out and right after the Protestant lay leader had prayed aloud for Jesus' intervention, the Senior Drill Instructor asked how many wanted to go home. Several accepted the offer.
We woke the next morning fewer and harder..
No comments:
Post a Comment