For those of you who have served in the military, you are all familiar with the lost art of story-telling that makes those long hours of duty seem a little less arduous. I’ve got enough of these stories to fill a book, and occasionally, I feel like relating one to the readership. (partially, in hopes of you all sending me your stories)
After 9/11, lots of people I knew enlisted, and shipped out to Basic Training the following summer. I had two roommates at the time, and to say that they were evil doesn’t quite cut it. They were eeeeeeviilllll. Roommate #1, we’ll call him Frank, to protect his identity, knew a guy who was in Basic in Fort Benning, so he sent him a letter, on the back of which was written “to the 2001 Virginia Military Institute push-up Champion!” A few weeks later, Frank got a phone call from the “push-up champion”, whose drill sergeant noticed the letter during mail call, and promptly asked the private to demonstrate his skills. The private was dogged for the rest of Basic for that letter.
But that isn’t anywhere NEAR as evil as my other roommate, who sent his buddy in basic a “goody box” that included a gay pornographic magazine. Apparently, during mail call, the drill sergeant made the private open the box in front of him during a platoon formation for mail call. The sergeant shuffled through his box, took all of the food and candy out and gave it to the platoon (no food was allowed in the barracks), and he came to the porn mag at the bottom of the box. The drill instructor, a fitness buff as most drill instructors are, thought it was a muscle/work-out type magazine and grabbed it, rolling it up. He looked at the private and said “I’m taking this to the latrine,” and turned around and walked off. The private had seen the magazine, and quickly tried to get it back, but to no avail. The drill sergeant entered one of the porta-johns nearby, and shut the door. The private was filled with an increasing sense of dread as the seconds clicked by and there was no noise from the latrine.
Suddenly, a roar erupted that the platoon of privates had never heard before, as the drill sergeant storms out of the latrine, and starts screaming at the private like it’s his job.
Which it, technically, is.
Anyway, that’s my story about torture at Basic training. Anybody know any more good ones?
heh sent a friend of mine pictures of sheep
he was refered to by his DI as "scotty" from then on
During Army basic, my father (active US Navy enlisted Master Chief) would send mail in official US Navy envelopes (nothing inside except a 3X5 card). As you can imagine I was popular with the drill sergeants.
We had a guy with an attitude get caught on a ruck march with his pillow filling up the bottom of his pack. Drill took out the pillow and filled up his pack with rocks.
When we got back the guy got mouthy about it with the Sr. Drill. He ended up packing a full duffle bag around everywhere he went for another 5 days. Took care of his attitude for a couple weeks, until he did something to get a week in CCF.
Two weeks out of CCF he did something else really stupid, and this time the MPs packed him off.
One night, we were running a traffic checkpoint, I had been asleep like a whole 45 minutes as the drill sergeatns hadnt came by in about that long adn the alarms hadnt been rung… then all of a sudden the alarm sounds. But this time its different. Theres panic… and a car revving its engine.
Im laying on the ground with my rifle on my chest, me and my squad run up the hill to find a truck like backed up against the end of the road. Me and my buds run full speed at this truck with our rifles… empty… without a magazine. But we run anyways… the 2 men in this truck hop out(and draw weapons as I was to later find out). I wasnt the first up the hill I'll admit, and by the time I got there I was told to go away by the platoon sergeant. In the morning we found it was the MP's whom we stopped and scared shitless… the drill sergeants treasured us and our story that morning =)
god i was so brainwashed… lol
It figures……I show up a little late and all the punch and pie are gone. Hey – great new blog!
After one would earn the navy wings, they would pack up and move to their next training squadron, the one for the aircraft they would fly in the fleet. More often than not this would include a waiting time, so the new Ensigns or LTJGs would get "stashed" with one of the other squadrons around the base to be gainfully employed until the class started.
It is during this "stash" time that we would all be sent up to SERE school in Maine for survival/evade/resist/escape training. The "POW" compound was miles back in the woods. One young ensign was sent up there, and the squadron he was stashed with decided to have a bit of fun. They flew TA-4J Skyhawks and printed out a bunch of leaflets saying "Ensign So-and-So is a SPY!". They loaded them up into the Skyhawk's speedbreaks and flew off northbound. Doing a low pass over the "POW" compound, they popped the speedbreaks just a bit and out came this snowstorm of leaflets. Needless to say Ensign So-and-So had a bit of an interrogation session that evening.
Between junior and senior year of college a heavy-set buddy went to Paris island. When he went he couldn't do a single pull-up and the DI's were on his case about junk food. So, his roommate, another buddy, sent him a post-cards with pictures Donuts and what-not. The DI had a field day with it.
I had a fellow National Guard OCS candidate in my platoon at Fort Sill who had a “good buddy” who’s a Ranger. His buddy sent him new packages every week filled with something meant to get him in trouble.
Well, our battery was the first to go through the Army’s new model of training IET soldiers. (I could tell a few stories about the new Basic Training model as well… We graduated March 31st, ’06.) So I don’t know if it is just that our drill sergeants were just that much more laid back, or what, but every package meant to get my buddy in trouble was just given a look, and then pretty much a shrug. Straight porn, gay porn, food of all sorts… my drill sergeants would plainly ask him to just toss it away, or put into the drill sergeants office.
Until… the package with the 4-foot inflatable penis. My buddy opened the package and another soldier grabbed it and started waving it around like it was his, which got the drill sergeant’s attention. Drill sergeant promptly made that soldier blow the inflatable penis up to full size… He was blowing it up all the rest of the night until lights out.
Drill sergeant never confiscated it.
My buddy had a 4 foot penis in his wall locker almost all the rest of basic. He was considering blowing it up and leaving it in the wall locker for the Battery Commander and Command Sergeant Major’s inspections…. We talked him out of it.
When my sister's boyfriend was in Navy Boot Camp, I happily sent him letters with "Go Army, Beat Navy" and the like scrawled all over them.
Apparently his Chief's were on the wimpy side because he said there wasn't any retribution over it.
When my oldest brother was in basic for the Navy our other brother kept sending him letters with little notes written on the outside. Every mail-call he's doing pushups. At first he thought it was some kind of mistake, then the notes started ending in "Hope you enjoy the exercise, I thought you needed the help."
How many times did my Wing have OCs dropped for shouting "Yes Sir" to my female Squadron commander?!!
Ugh, it's a girl and not a guy bros! :)
When one of the guys from our boat went to Navy Diver School, a few of my shipmates and I addressed a postcard to him at that school with the addressee as "MM2 (ss/mdv) xxxx". That 'mdv' got him some extra special love and attention from the instructors. (The payback came later after he returned to the boat all fit-&-buff-plus-plus, and 'liberated' our left shoes while we slept.)
And when you've been out on a sub for a spell and a rider SEAL sits crosslegged on the torpedo racks, rocks back and forth, and mutters to himself for hours on end without taking his eyes off the torpedo hatch, LEAVE. HIM. ALONE.
I was in Marine basic at Paris Island, Sep-Dec 1975. During the same time, my future brother-in-law was at Army basic at nearby Fort Jackson. He sent me a letter in Army stationary which caused the DI when he saw it to yell “Who is getting letters from an Army puke?”
I stepped out and responded. The DI then noticed on the back of the envelope was written the phrase “Open the letter to see what the USMC really means”. Needless to say, the DI was a tad bit curious. I opened it and in big red letters, my brother-in-law had written, “U Suck My Cock”.
May arms and legs still ache to this day from all of the bends & thrusts I got to do over that little practical joke.
1 QO HLDRS Ex MEDMAN in Canada. First or second flight out was being booked in at Buller Barracks Munster. The RE lads rolled up and asked if we could help play a wee trick.
Cue HUGE brand new Sapper with small eyes, snout and evidently no brain formally told by me as Orderly Room Sergeant that he had been selected to be 'Weapons Escort in the aircraft cargo hold'. 'Yes Sarge'
We sent them off to Gutersloh and I rang the Medical Centre there who were waiting on the tarmac with an oxygen bottle on a trolley and a medic who started explaining to said Sapper how to use it and to 'watch you don't get too cold or your willy will drop off with frostbite'…
Meanwhile CO 1 QO HLDRS and OC and his whole RE Troop can't stop laughing but waited until the last possible moment before telling Sapper to get his bum on the plane…..
Not sure if this story is true, or if it's a basic training urban legend, but when I went through USAF Basic training at Lackland AFB, TX, the story was told about a drill instructor who used to like to stick his head down into the comodes during latrine inspections, just to make sure that the guys on latrine detail had scrubbed the toilet bowl properly under the inner rim of the bowl.
Well, Jones, the guy on latrine duty that week, stole some peanut butter from the chow hall, and before the Saturday morning inspection, smeared peanut butter under the rim of one of the toilet bowls in the latrine.
With the basic trainees standing by their bunks, the inspection proceeded typically, with various gigs given for typical infractions, until the DI went in to inspect the latrine.
"Airman Basic Jones! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!!"
Jones dashes off to the latrine to find the DI, face purple, pointing at the toilet.
"WHAT…IS…THAT?????", the DI screams.
Jones looks in the bowl, runs his finger through the peanut butter smeared under the rim, and puts the finger in his mouth, and says, "It's shit, Sergeant!", and the DI faints dead away.
Like I say, I don't know if that story is true, but if it isn't, it ought to be…
We were all sitting around the Senior Drill Instructor during my first week of Marine Basic when he started asking us about our different backgrounds to give us squad bay duties. Well, he asked if anyone had any retail experience (he needed two of us to be in charge of all the cleaning supplies). I stood up and loudly said "Sir, this Recruit has worked for Longs Drugs Incorporated for 5 years Sir!"- His response: "I'll bet you're fucking proud of that!"
Man, it sucks when they're right…
I had two wonderful incidents during basic at Ft. Benning in 1985. I had a friend who was a 2nd Lt. He would, nicely, send me mail with 2nd Lt. written in the return address slot. It seemed I spent hours doing grass drills or holding my rifle over my head for consorting with an officer.
The other time a friend, not in basic, but at Benning stopped by my Sand Hill barracks area to see if he could say hi. We were out doing something, so he decided to erase the days schedule from the blackboard and replace it with HI DOUG. Since we were only numbers (224-it's amazing what you remember from basic) or last names it took the DS awhile to figure out who he meant. I kept quiet hoping he would give up, that is until another poor slob named Doug was found and I spoke up so he would not get dogged.
Hmmm… I recall we had a female West Point Cadet with us for a few weeks while she did a summer training rotation.
One Drill would always drag her up to the squad bay and call formation while about half the guys were in the shower. I thought it funny at first and the Drill obviously found it funny. But I realized she was actually very embarrased by the whole deal. (No, the drill wouldn't let us form up naked, we had to at least have a towel).
Well, I *am* OPFOR (1-509 PIR, Ft Polk, LA) so I'll go with a couple of rotation stories.
We were doing STX lanes (the warm-up training that is focused on platoon level tactics; happens before the main rotational exercise) and after we set off the IEDs there was mass confusion. We continued to harass them and finally they decided to abandon a few (drivable!) vehicles, a 2 ton and a gun truck. An O/C had me and one other guy hop in the back of the 2 ton and we grabbed someone's Kevlar and danced around while the video guy was rolling.
I always wish I could see these after-action reviews…
Oh, and someone else told me that earlier, in the middle of the confusion and fighting, a female lieutenant called out "Drink water!" like you do in basic.
My favorite is the one where one of our guys was on an assassination mission. His target, a captain, is talking to the mayor and the captain is flanked by a platoon and there are some ICDC around. Well, our man walks up to shoot him.
Click.
I guess the captain must have heard him cursing and trying to clear the jam because he walks up.
And says, "here, let me help you," clears the weapon and hands it back.
I'm not sure if our guy said thanks before he shot him.
My father had been medically retired from the US Army after WWII. The only time I ever know that he used "Captain, US Army, Ret'd." on any mail was the letter I got from him about halfway through Marine Corps Boot Camp in 1967. The DIs didn't think my response of "After being in the Army, he taught me to do better." was funny enough, so I did push-ups. But the worst was the letter my step-mother sent, with something inside, which I had to open in front of the entire platoon. The contents turned out to be two long skinny pieces of brigt colored cloth. The DI and the entire platoon laughed at my reply to "What are those, maggot?" Aprin strings.
John
I showed up a week early to Army AIT Advanced Individual Training) at Fort Sam Houston, a limbo period which was almost as miserable as being in Reception Battalion prior to Basic. At one point during this week, I was sent to work at the main gym on post. For most of the morning, I was made to scrub floors, wash windows, and other such menial tasks Basic had trained me quite well for by then. But the nadir of the day — indeed of my entire military career thus far — came when I was ordered to help fold towels. As I approached the group of towel folders, I noticed that they were civilian child volunteers, all apparently Fragile X or Trisomy-21 chromosomal disorder special-needs kids. Their leader was a rather serious
fourteen-year-old, Fred. Fred seemed pleased when I was added to his small squad of underlings and frequently condescended
from his exalted position to correct me whenever my towel-folding wasn't up to his impeccably high standards. In other words, I was not only made to do a job normally done
by retarded children, but I wasn't in charge of it, I wasn't doing it right, and I was getting tongue-lashed for my incompetence by a retarded kid. After several hours of this, while my 'co-workers' got to ride back to wherever they came from in a long van (a variation upon the more traditional "short bus, " I suppose), I had to walk two miles back to my barracks in the pouring Texas rain. Like haughty noblemen to a contemptible peasant, Fred and his minions actually pointed and laughed at me from inside the van as they sped by, splashing me with muddy water, doubtless exhilarated to giddiness in the contemplation of such an obvious manifestation of their superior status, so far elevated in comparison to my own lowly estate.
Hoping to improve my situation, shortly thereafter I put in a packet for OCS, where in fact I was often eerily reminded of that towel-folding experience.
I enlisted Oct. 19, 2001, and did my basic at the Fort Benning Home for Wayward Boys (B co. 1/50). I was 32 at basic training, so my friends are obviously older too. One, a former Army Drill Sergeant, and now a graphic artist, would send letters with my head photoshopped onto colin powell's body, with the words "Hey drill, now I outrank you. Give me some good NCO advice" on the envelope.
Obviously, I was "advised" to start pushing. When I asked the Drill how many pushups, he responded "All of them."
Other envelopes came with my photo, prominently displayed, wearing a Drill Sergeant Hat, after which I went through "drill sergeant school." Good Lord.
Finally, we got so used to the smoke sessions and mail related pushups, that it became a joke. We would actually mail letters to guys in our own platoon, just to make each other do pushups.
I, along with some others, even took to eating cake in the DFAC because one of our Drills told us he would smoke the platoon til someone puked if he caught us eating it. It was called the "Calories In/Calories Out" weight loss management plan.
Ah, the good old days. Pain Leads to Compliance.
Navy Bootcamp, Orlando, 1975
We had this fellow, Tony Guardino, from Washington Heights, Brooklyn. The guy looked and acted like he stepped out of a casting call for "dumb Italian street kid from Brooklyn"
Anyhow, we get to the last week of training, and our Company Commander, Bos'n Mate First Class Elam, is explaining how to fill out the Leave Request. Tony raises his hand.
BM1 Elam: "Yes, Guardino." We all now, that while There is no such thing as a dumb question, Guardino is always trying to disprove that.
Guardino: Petty Officer Elam, what if we don't know what our leave address is?
BM1 Elam: "Guardino" he growls around his cigar, "Just put down your parent's address."
Guardino:"What if you don't know what your parent's address is?"
BM1 Elam now gives Guardino the raised eyebrow. "You don't know where your parents live?"
Guardino replies, "They moved since I came to Boot Camp. I don't know the new address."
BM1 Elam had an incredible expression. He now glares at Guardino. "You mean to tell me that your parents sent you to me for thirteen weeks, THEN MOVED WITH NO FORWARDING ADDRESS?!…
The rest of us were laughing for a good five minutes.
While at MOSUT Ft Sill, OK 1983 one of my soldiers received a letter from his girl friend, and a letter from his girlfriend's mother they both said "I'm pregnant"
He had his orders changed to report immediately after graduation to Germany.
I remember one of my buddies did the gay porn joke to me when I was in Basic. He also was kind enough to send me a 2LT bar because he knew I was going to try to become an officer. I got even later by sending all sorts of Nazi Party literature to him at his law firm.
Also, I remember there was another private that I didn’t care for too much in my platoon. This was at Ft. Knox. One night one of the drill sergeants left his hat where we could get at it and took pictures of ourselves wearing it. The other private also did his AIT at Knox, so I mailed his picture of him wearing the hat to the drill sergeant. I never heard back, though. Probably because I didn’t put my name on it.
Graduation Postcards
Graduation Postcard