=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Instant and Willing Obedience to Orders --------------------------------------- The blaring notes of Revillie fill the air along with the Drill Instructor's grating voice. "Get Up! Get Up! Get Out of Bed!! Get Up!" And so another day in Marine Corps Recruit Training begins. You throw back the covers, leap (or more likely stumble) out of bed and get on post. (Post being directly in front of your foot locker.) First a count off. Heads snap to the right and back to the front as each recruit shouts out his number in turn. Then starboard side takes to making their racks while port side shuffles off to the head . 30 seconds for the top bunk and 30 seconds for the bottem bunk, and then the sides change over and starboard side mobs to the head and packs in like a heard of cattle, trying to piss, splash water on your face and wake the fuck up in 60 seconds. As the Drill Instructors are fond of saying, it's 2 to a pisser and 3 to a shitter, referring to how many people should be pissing in a toilet at a time. Shuffle back out and get on post, standing at the POA (Position of Attention), and await the next command, which will inevitably be some form of "Get Dressed." The command is barked and all 70 recruits turn simultaneously and grab their socks. 5 seconds for each sock...20 to get your camoflage trousers on and if the DI is in a semi-good mood you might be lucky and get 10 seconds to tighten your belt. Then 20 more seconds for your camoflage blouse and 10 more for each shoes or 20 if it you have to wear boots. Finally, 10 seconds to get the rest of your stuff put away and get back on post. You didn't finish in time? Very well, you'll be doing a few extra push-ups later in the day. Now it's time to turn to a clean up. Foot lockers are carried to the center of the squad bay and everyone grabs their scuz brush and posts themselves against the wall behind their racks. "Prepare To Sweep!"..."PREPARE TO SWEEP AYE AYE SIR!!"...70 scuz brushes are lifted high in the air. "Sweep!" 70 scuz brushes move swiftly downward and the wooden edges smack the deck . You don't want to hit the deck all together, eh? Very well..stand up and do it again. Up and down until the DI is satisfied by a loud singular whack and then the recruits make a mad dash to front post on hands and knees, arms flailing around wildly in an attempt to sweep out all the dust from underneath the racks. Then scuz brushes are put up and cleaning supplies are snatched from the whiskey locker . The entire floor must be swept, mopped and sprayed with "Smell Good" . Every portal must be spotless and every mirror must sparkle. There better not be a smudge on any piece of chrome or brass in the squadbay. You'd just as well tell the DI to go to hell as miss a speck of dust. Clean up is secured and everyone grabs their covers and war belts and swarm out to the street and fall into platoon formation . No running in the squadbay, but once you bust that hatch , your legs better be pumping double time. And woe is the poor fool that forgets to put a cover on his grape as he steps out the door. 40 inches back to chest, pefectly covered and aligned. If you can see the head of the person in front of the recruit directly in front of you, then you are wrong. If you are not perfectly aligned with the body of the recruit to your right, then you are wrong. Stand at the POA, head and eyes straight to the front. FORWAARD HARCH! Left, Left, Left, Right, Left. Keep your eyes off the deck. Swing your arms 6 to the front and 3 to the rear. Lean back and stop bouncing. Point the toe and drive the heel. COLUMN LEFT...HARCH!! Turn to the left by pivoting on the right foot. PLATOON HALT! Step-Freeze. 4, 3, 2, 1 attack the Mess Hall!! FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE ATTACK THE MESS HALL AYE AYE SIR!! Each column files off at top speed, lining up at the hatch of the Mess Hall. Heel to toe, you should be touching the canteen on the back of the person's belt in front of you. One by one the recruits file into the Chow Hall. Shoulder to shoulder, fill in the gaps. Grab a carrying tray. Grab a serving tray. Grab silverware (Only One Piece of Silver Recruits). Forearms parallel to the deck. One shot One kill. If you don't get what you want on your first try, then you missed. You shout to the serving recruit what it is that you want and he plops it down on your tray and you file on down the serving line, trying your best to stay shoulder to shoulder with the guy beside you. GANG WAY, DRILL INSTRUCTOR!! BACK OFF THE LINE!! Everyone backs away from the service table as a Drill Instructor makes his way along the line. As soon as he passes, you jump right back where you were, get the rest of your food and sit down at a table in your platoon's assigned area. You stare intently at your food. You don't want to get bitched at for eyeballing the chow hall. You gulp down your pancakes and scrambled eggs and then get up and go to the drink line and grab a glass of chocolate milk. You've scarcely finished your last drink of milk when you hear the DI informing you that you're done. You jump to your feet, grab your war belt from the back of your chair, snap it around your waist, grab your tray and head towards the exit. You dump off your trash and dirty dishes and then rush out the door and fall back into your place in formation. March back to the house and now it's time for PT. You reverse the dressing process and then throw on a jock, pair of shorts and a T-shirt and fall back outside on the street in formation. It's a short 1/2 mile or so jog to the PT field, where you stretch out and do various exercises. OUR NEXT EXERCISE IS SIDE STRADDLE HOPS . I'LL COUNT THE CADENCE. YOU COUNT THE REPETITIONS. WE WILL DO 15 OF THEM. READY. BEGIN! 1-2-3 "One Sir!" 1-2-3 "Two Sir!" ...1-2-3 "Fifteen Sir!". One idiot loses count and begins his sixteenth repetition. VERY WELL, YOU WANT TO KEEP GOING? EVERYBODY DROP AND GIVE ME 10 PUSH-UPS. The entire series of 200+ recruits hits the dirt simultaneously, sending up a small cloud of dust. Daily routine completed, it's time for the actual PT now. Today it's the circuit course, which consists of various stations from military press to incline push ups to dips and sprinting between stations. Once that's completed, it's a 3 mile run and then back to the house and into the rain room . Walk in one end single file and while turning, make your way around and out the other end. Dry off on your way out the door and get on post and get dressed. What you've just read is an fairly accurate description of an average day in Marine Corps Boot Camp. And that's only the first three of sixteen hours. Everything you do is training for combat. No hesitation. Instant and willing obedience to orders. You question your superior, and you're dead. You mess up and you or someone else depending on you is dead. You fall asleep on guard duty and your entire platoon is slaughtered in their sleep. Instant and willing obedience to orders. When you're told to sit, you drop like a rock. And when you hit the floor, you freeze in whatever position you landed in until the DI gives you permission to adjust. Discipline. When you're standing at the POA, you don't move. If you scratch your nose, then you're gonna do the same thing while lying in a bush in the middle of the fucking jungle while praying that the communist bastard standing less than 30 feet away from you doesn't see through your camoflage. You breath too heavily and you might be spotted. You scratch your nose, and you're dead. And you aren't allowed to laugh or smile under any circumstances. If you can't keep your bearing in training, how do you expect to keep from losing it in battle? If you smile, then you must be enjoying boot camp, which means the DIs aren't doing their jobs properly, which means they get bitched at. And when a DI gets bitched at, the entire platoon pays. There's also no longer a first or second persons. You are forbidden from using the words I, me, you, we and us. It's not "I need to piss", it's "this recruit needs to piss." It's not about being an individual, it's about teamwork. And you'd best not forget that Sir at the end of every sentance. And the DIs have all kinds of little games to promote obedience. You can't get your boots on before the count reaches zero? Very well, hold 'em straight out in front of you for 10 minutes and then try again. And if the games don't work, there's always Incentive Training aka the dreaded IT. The Incentive in IT is that "if this recruit doesn't fuck up, then this recruit won't be ITd, hence this recruit better try harder." Here's an example of a typical IT session. You're told to empty your pockets and go up to the class room area in the front of the squad bay. (Or if you're in deep shit, then you'll get to make a dirt call.) The DI that's ITing you issues the commands and the faster you obey them, the more likely you are to get out of the IT session a hell of a lot quicker. JUMP! "Jump Aye Aye Sir!". You quickly begin Side Straddle Hopping at a pace roughly four times faster than normal. STOP! "Stop Aye Aye Sir!" and you freeze. Instant and willing obedience to orders. JUMP! and it begins again. FASTER! "Faster Aye Aye Sir!" FASTER!!! "Faster Aye Aye Sir". STOP! "Stop Aye Aye Sir!" PUSH! "Push Aye Aye Sir!" UP--DOWN--UP--DOWN--UP--DOWN--UP--DOWN--UP-------DOWN-UP-----DOWN-UP. And so on and so on. I've seen IT sessions go as long as an hour and a half. IT is the ultimate in deprogramming enhancers. Even the most rebelious recruits will succumb after a few IT sessions. My own rackmate used to get ITd 3 times a day simply because the DIs thought he was a slacker. Our Senior Drill Instructor actually told us once that "the Marine Corps doesn't brainwash you, we just prepare you for combat." That's like saying "alcohol doesn't kill brain cells, it just makes them unusable." No matter what you call it, you still come out with a lower intelligence than before (in both cases). Instant & willing obedience may be detrimental to proper conduct in battle, but, at least to me, it's not worth losing my individualism for. (Hence I'm no longer in boot camp, but that's another file). Someone has to protect our country's liberty, but how can you effectively defend something you were forced to give up yourself? It takes guts to go out and win a war, but even if your side is undoubtably right, will you look back with pride in what you accomplished or with bitterness at giving up your life so that millions of others wouldn't have to and not receiving a single thank you for doing such? Sure, you did some great things...now was it worth the price of your own freedom? --InVerse =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = = Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = gote land +27.31.441115 = = Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = = Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = = Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = = Damnation 212.861.0580 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = = Hacker's Haven 303.343.4053 PheedbacK 303.782.0893 = = E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = = Dungeon Sys. 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