boot camp

On May 22, 1965 I signed a work contract that stipulated that I work 7days/24hours for 4 years. The official start day was June 6, 1965.

Today is the 123 birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Yep, that's where I went to work.

In June, 1965 I was a 20 year-old, 6'3", 145lb kid. From neighbors I had some idea of what I was getting into but in reality I had no idea of what was going to happen - Boot Camp.

the location

MCRD San Diego. MCRD - Marine Corps Recruit Depot. Believe me the name tells you nothing. MCRD San Diego is located next to Limberg Field, the airport for San Diego. Our Quonset Huts were located almost next to the fence that separated us from them. You could also see an outdoor drive-in theatre. Knowing freedom was just a jump over an 8 foot tall fence did not help the situation any one bit. Many a scared young man jumped that fence.

We lived in Quonset huts. The restrooms, heads, were in another Quonset hut. 2 huts for 60 boys plus one head. It was summer so the heater in the center of the hut wasn't needed. Then again this is San Diego. It never gets cold in San Diego. Right! Sleeping in the huts wasn't all that bad because you were just to tired to care. Believe me, sleep was not a problem. Getting up at 4:30am was.

You spend a lot of time just marching. Marching to the mess-hall. Marching to classes. Marching to the trail for the 3-mile run. Marching to the parade-field so you could learn how to properly march.

The parade-field was and still is a very large area of black-top. The parade-field is surrounded on all sides by offices and living quarters of the Depot staff. You never really saw a straight building because the heat was rippling off the parade-field black-top. This being summer the heat was intense.

the drill instructors

Their called DIs. Each platoon had three. Larry , Moe and Curly. No really, these were dedicated Marines. The problem is that after all these years I have forgotten their names. Sorry.

The oldest and most senior was a staff-sergeant who saw action in Korean. He didn't get that involved with the platoon. I don't know why. He was a very imposing guy. Scary. If he said jump you went up and didn't bother to ask how high. He'd let you know.

Next in line was another staff-sergeant also with experience in Korea. He was a tall, lanky Marine and he seemed to take an interest in me. He gave the appearance of being a push-over. If you thought so then you were going to regret that opinion. This staff-sergeant witnessed an alteration between myself and the third DI. Afterwards he came to me and apologized for that way his friend had acted and hoped I wouldn't file charges. I wanted to tell him it would be a cold day in Hell before I jeopardized my short stay at his lovely retreat. I just said that I had already forgotten it.

The third DI was crazy. He was a buck-sergeant with no combat experience. Never mind, he was still crazy. His father had been killed during the battle to get out of Chosan in Korea. His dream was to get into combat himself and get the Medal of Honor. Considering the Vietnam War was just beginning I'm sure he had his chance.

Now when I say he was crazy only I can say that. If it wasn't for his constant efforts to get me in shape I would never had made it through Boot Camp. I actually liked the guy. But he was still crazy.

the first week

The first week at Boot Camp is restricted. No physical stuff. So instead they work on your head. Intimidation. You don't belong here. You're not Marine Corps material. To skinny. To light. Not physical enough. Constant in-your-face intimidation. This didn't seem to bother me. I just don't know why.

The rest of the platoon I was in did scare me. Only 3 or 4 of us were from the west, all Southern California. The remainder from Chicago. They all looked like criminals. This was not good. They saw me and the others from California as fruits. I had heard this stuff for most of my life but now it did effect me and I was not happy about the situation. These guys got their ideas from the Drill Instructors (DI.) Once they heard the DIs calling us fruits they went with it. For the entire 11 weeks of Boot Camp I was harassed with the homosexual taunts. But this was nothing compared to what the DIs did to the African-Americans in the platoon.

The N-word was a constant utterance. Hey you N, can't you think. You big ape you're just a stupid, lazy N. One of the African-Americans was a big, 6'6'', fellow that never had to take this shit from anyone. Now here was a 5'10" DI standing on a box to yell the N-word over, and over in his face. This guy did crack. He was later given a medical discharge.

So for the first week it was constant verbal harassment. They didn't touch us, they didn't have to. Once the physical requiem started I quickly learned that the mind can block out the physical pain. The mental torture was another matter. Everything the DIs did had a purpose behind it. One of the cruel lessons of Korea was the mental torture that Americans received from the North Koreans. So you endured the verbal abuse and waited for what you though was the real pain. We were all wrong. That first week in Boot Camp was the worst 6 days I have ever experienced. Whenever I think anything could get worse I am reminded of Week One of Boot Camp.

The low point of the first week came while we were waiting to go in for our dental exam. While waiting in line we had to repeat the 10 General Orders out load. This was stuff like . . . See I can't remember one of those goddam 10 Orders. Not one. Having to recite them over, and over, and over, and over, and over that first week almost had me going crazy. And I almost did while in that line waiting for the Navy corpsman to check my teeth.

weeks 2, 3, 4, and 5

With all the physical exams done we could now be put through the riggers of running, marching and running, classroom instruction and running, and more running. We have a two-hour hole before the next class then lets go running. It may not have been that bad but that's what I remember 38 years after the fact.

Guess what. Running was good. I had wanted to be a cross-county runner in high school but we had a very good track program at Hoover High, Glendale, CA. I hadn't run for over a year before Boot Camp but after the first couple of days of running it became my favorite activity. Unlike cross-country, all our running was on a flat course and it was a packed dirt lane. Conditions excellent for the distance running we did.

There was one slight problem. In Boot Camp you ran in full fatigues, combat boots and all. So the worst part was breaking in those boots. Eventually they became so comfortable that I wore the same pair of boots my entire 4-years in the Marines. Even in Vietnam I wore those Boot Camp boots. I was ordered more than once in Vietnam by some gun-ho officer to get new boots. No way.

It wasn't all physical, we had our share of classroom instruction. I just don't remember what.

The real goal of the DIs those first weeks was to suck all the civilian shit out of us so they could force the Marine shit back into you. It worked.

In the second week we have to take a physical test. This includes 300-yd dash, push-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, and one other test that I have forgotten. 500 points possible. You must get at least 150 points to pass. I get less than 100. No superman me.

I am told to shape up or you will be sent back and must endure even more weeks of this shit. I want to finish in the minimum 11 weeks but I don't have much confidence that I will. Whatever.

weeks 6 and 7

Now were are going to play John Wayne. We're on the way to the rifle range. This is a new facility located at Camp Pendleton. Camp Mathews is abandoned. For some strange reason I remember a place I never visited but forget the name of the new rifle range. I don't know how many Marines had been through this place but it couldn't have been many.

Our entire platoon is on the second floor of a barracks that can accommodate 4 platoons. New showers. Need I say more. Tile on the shower floor. In the Marine Corps this is a revolutionary concept. It wasn't until I was stationed in Iwakuni, Japan that I saw tile on the shower floor again. This place smells new. I'm in heaven. The mess hall might as well have been the Ritz-Carlton. This is a vacation.

Most of our time is spent on the range. Some running but by now it's become a way to relax. I don't think anyone even bothers to sweat.

One of the more brazier happenings occured at the rifle-range. During one of the practices a member of the platoon had his rifle (M14) explode. The chamber where the bullet is loaded exploded. He was in the sitting position and the explosion discharged downward and only put some scratches on one arm of the recruit. If you had seen the condition of the rifle you would have thought that whoever was firing it when it exploded would have been severely hurt. What that recruit almost lost is unmentionable here. Let's just say he came within inches of never have any family of his own. Instead nothing. Amazing.

I had one big problem on the range and didn't know it was a problem until 15 years later. I had bad eyes. At 100 yards I would be 10 for 10 (bull-eyes.) At 250 yards it goes down to about 50% and at 500 yards I can barely hit the target. I passed but I was disappointed at my score. If I had been given an adequate eye exam I probably would have scored much higher. Oh well, that's life.

week 8

Back in San Diego we take another physical test. You now need 250 points to pass. I think I got over 200 but that's not enough. I get sent to a remedial platoon in an attempt to beef me up. Two other members of my platoon go with me.

I turned 21 in Marine Corps Boot Camp. Some guys get the girl, I get to go to a movie. The staff-segment in charge lets our remedial group go to the Saturday night movie. It just happened to be my birthday. I didn't tell anyone.

At 21 I was an old man in this place. Most recruits were barely out of high-school. Some weren't 18 yet.

Within 5 days I was back. I still had a chance to graduate with my original group. For some reason I just accelerated physically and passed the required tests. Because week 8 was a non-training week (we did mess-duty and other such chores around the depot) I was able to return to my platoon.

One of the DIs, the buck-sergeant, was not happy about this and early in the evening he called me into his office to give me a talk. This guy was very frustrated with my return. We still had one more physical test to take in week 10 and if anyone flunked the test the whole platoon failed that test. This would ruin the platoon's chances of getting the title of best in the regiment. He finally just lost it and started pounding me on the stomach. I didn't know what to do so like an idiot I just stood there. He then dismissed me. My stomach was sore for weeks.

weeks 9, 10, and 11

We're on the downside now. We can see the end of all this pain. It was in this period that we had photos taken. They put us in a dress blue jacket and hat (the only time I ever put that thing on) and pop, it's done. The look in my eyes is . . . forget it, there is no look in my eyes. There wasn't in any of our eyes.

The major tests that the platoon must take and pass as a group to qualify for best of regiment are: The Physical, Classroom Test, 3-mile run, and Marching.

the physical

This time around we need to get 350 points. I realized by this time that the only person in our platoon in danger of flunking is me. The problem was and still is that I just don't have the physical body, and have never wanted it, to pass this test. My legs are best suited for distance running not a 300-yard dash. I have no arms per-say so chin-ups and push-ups are out. Sit-ups were no problem, 100 points. Whatever the test 5 was I also got a high score for that. So after all 5 tests I had 375 points. PASSED! Platoon passes. Great cheer.

Then disaster. It was determined that one member of our platoon cheated. Now you could cheat was a mystery to me but there it was, the platoon flunked the physical test. No best of regiment. The buck-sergeant that gave me the beating later told me that I got a higher score than the leader of the winning platoon. I think this guy was starting to respect me. Weird.

the 3-mile run

I must first tell you what we wore. Combat helmet. Backpack with 25 lbs. A aluminum profile rifle that weights as much as a M-14 (I think it was 15 lbs.) Ammo belt with water canteens. For footwear those trusty boots.

We ran this test in the afternoon in August. Hot. Dry.

The sergeant puts me at the front. I am the rabbit. He tells me to just go. Don't slow down. Maintain the fastest pace I could. Noooooo problem.

At the end of the run I stop at the finish line. I here the sergeant yelling to keep going. Keep going? I crossed the line, what else do you want? He wants the whole platoon to cross that goddam ****ing line! Oops. We all run another 20, 30 yards. Done.

We passed. We were the fastest platoon in the regiment thanks to me. I felt great. I passed the physical. Now I lead the platoon to the fastest time in the 3-mile run. Not bad so far for a skinny shit that didn't belong in the Marines.

the classroom tests

Overall my platoon had the highest average score. This from mostly 17 and 18 year-olds. This time I was impressed.

marching

The buck-sergeant who tested my stomach was nervous about the marching business. The problem was me. At 6'3" I was taller than anyone in the platoon. I also had the longest legs, so trying to march in step with the rest of the platoon was not easy. Left foot, right foot wasn't the problem. For me the hard part was that I had to constantly remember to shorten my stride. Because of this the sergeant made up some business about me being sick and got permission for me to watch from the stands.

The platoon flunked.

I don't remember what it was exactly but the sergeant gave the wrong marching command and it went down hill from there.

conclusion

No matter. It was done. We graduated. Of the original 60 boys to start in Platoon 360 of the Year 1965, 30 Marines finished with the platoon, myself included.

In my short 21 years putting on the Marine Dress-Tropicals and getting my certificate was my proudest moment.

Do I regret joining the Marines? No.

Would I do it again knowing what I know now? Yes.

Did I have a good experience in the Marines? Yes and no.

I was a photographer in the Marines. I loved that. It was 6 days a week for us during the Vietnam era and being a photographer made it much easier.

The Marine mentality was not a pleasant thing to deal with. You had to be in the Marines to understand what I'm saying. Their attitude was: Marines first, God second, Family Last. That wasn't my order of things. So for the rest of my tour in the Marines it was a struggle. My own attitude didn't help any either. It still doesn't.

special note to the modern marine

Today a Marine recruit must pass a 48-hour crucible of pain in order to graduate from Boot Camp. This is much different than anything we ever did. I'm not sure I could have passed it, then again . . .

copyright 1998 john s krill