Military Life - The beginning

I rose early in order to eat something and arrive at the induction center by seven-thirty in the morning, where, with the exception of having a physical, I sat around all day watching several draftees (they were drafting in my day - as they should be today) find out they were going to be Marines! They were just sitting there, waiting like the rest of us, when a Marine Recruiter walked into the room, and as he made his way down the row of chairs, pointed to one after another of the draftees and said - "You're in the Marines! Move it!"

Then, during the physical, there is a moment when one stands with a large group of his peers, totally naked, and is told -

"All right! Turn around, bend over, and grab your cheeks!" And, of course, humiliated or not, one does as one is told. This is normally followed by the comedian yelling out - "Not those, buddy! The ones on your ass!"

Then comes the swearing in. I never realized that up to that point, I could have walked away with no repercussions. I doubt if I would have anyway, since I did volunteer.

After the swearing in, you sit, and you sit, and you sit. It's the army way, you soon learn.

In late afternoon, I was rounded up with the rest of the recruits and herded onto a bus. A sergeant steps onto the bus and quiets all inside. Then, the pep talk!

"Men! The next eight weeks will be the toughest eight weeks of your life. But you can do it! Never give up!"

To say I was psyched for the really difficult time ahead is putting it mildly. I couldn't wait to be tested! Let's get it going!

The bus pulls out, and we head towards Fort Leonard Wood, the hell hole of the midwest, so we're told. The time is about five in the afternoon.

After riding for several hours, we stop for dinner. I strike up a conversation with the young kid sitting next to me. After we eat, he grabs my arm and says, "Come on, hurry!"

He pulls me out the door of the restaurant and into the bar next door. He struts up to the bar and says, "1/2 pint of Seagram Seven!"

The bartender looks at him. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen!" he replies.

"Well, son, you have to be twenty-one to buy in this state."

"We're in Illinois, aren't we?"

"Yeah, and you have to be twenty-one in Illinois."

A forlorn look crosses the face of my companion.

"Where you boys headed?" the bartender asks.

Standing straight, chest out, my companion replies, "Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri!"

The bartender turns, reaches for a bottle of Seagrams, hands it to the kid and says, "Now, get outta here and don't tell anyone where you got that!"

"Thanks, man!"

The bottle is stuffed into a pocket, a shirt pulled down over it, and we head back to the bus. Once darkness falls, we sit in the back of the bus nipping at the bottle. I doubt if it took too many nips for me to really start to feel the effects, as I was not a drinker.

By the time we rolled into Fort Leonard Wood at three in the morning, I was feeling no pain, not much of anything else for that matter, either.

As soon as the door opened, a Drill Instructor hops on the bus and starts yelling at us to get the hell off! I guess I did. I can't say I really remember what went on after that, outside of the fact I filled out form after form, smiling all the time.