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From Maggots to Marines
Boot Camp Revisited
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Every year, approximately thirty-eight thousand recruits pour through the gates of Marine Corps Recruit Depots at San Diego, California, and Parris Island, South Carolina, for a chance to line up on the historic yellow footprints. And once on it, the reality of the situation sets in and almost without exception, they immediately ask themselves one question: "What the f---- did I get myself into?" In From maggots to Marines, male and female Marines from WWII to present day share their sometimes hilarious and always insanely interesting stories of their boot camp experience. Read their personal ...
Every year, approximately thirty-eight thousand recruits pour through the gates of Marine Corps Recruit Depots at San Diego, California, and Parris Island, South Carolina, for a chance to line up on the historic yellow footprints. And once on it, the reality of the situation sets in and almost without exception, they immediately ask themselves one question: "What the f---- did I get myself into?" In From maggots to Marines, male and female Marines from WWII to present day share their sometimes hilarious and always insanely interesting stories of their boot camp experience. Read their personal accounts of the shock and awe of arrival; those fun-filled trips to the sand pits; close order drill adventures; and most importantly...tales of some of the insane (and funny) "training aids" implemented by their DIs. Then flip to the DI chapters to get the word from the duty hut--straight from the "hats" themselves. The rigors of a 100- to 120-hour workweek, the strain placed on their marriages, and the opium they rely on to get them through it all: humor. One day early on, we were waiting our turn outside of a warehouse while others were inside getting some equipment issued. While we were standing at parade rest, the senior asks for a volunteer for some undisclosed mission. "How many of you have one year of college," he asked. A bunch of us raised our hands. "How many of you have two years of college?" A smaller number of hands went up. "How many of you have three years of college?" Only one guy raised his hand. "Come here, maggot," the DI barked. At this point, I'm sure the kid probably thought he had just won the boot camp lottery and that his educational background had just staked him to some advantage. Until he heard the next words, that is, "Grab this f----ing coffee cup, puke, and run back to the duty hut and get me a cup of coffee." And just like that, the recruit got a slice humble pie along with the realization that his schooling didn't mean jack here.
