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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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               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 <right> 
side takes to making their racks <beds> while port <left> side shuffles 
off to the head <bathroom>.
     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 <scrubbing> 
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 <floor>. 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 <storage closet>. The entire floor must be swept, 
mopped and sprayed with "Smell Good" <cheap cologne>. Every portal <window> 
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 <hats> and 
war belts and swarm out to the street and fall into platoon formation 
<four columns>.  No running in the squadbay, but once you bust that hatch 
<door>, your legs better be pumping double time. And woe is the poor fool 
that forgets to put a cover on his grape <head> 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 <jumping jacks>. 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 <shower>. 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


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