My heart pounded with anguish and anticipation as the bus made its way through the lighted gate area and entered a sea of darkness. The bus traveled for approximately four miles through this darkness until it finally came upon the recruit receiving area. Within seconds of the bus stopping, a human being consisting of nothing more than a big hat and a loud mouth had entered the bus and starting screaming at everyone to get the #@$# off the bus. Although I had heard many stories about this very moment, the foreknowledge of what was going to occur did nothing to diminish its terrifying effect. It was now approximately three oclock in the morning, ninety degrees in temperature, and the distinct smell of Parris Island flowed through my nostrils. In the background I could hear some of the young men that arrived with me crying out loud for their mothers; some of the voices I could distinguish from earlier in the day bragging about how tough they were.
As we stood on the yellow footprints for one generation of eternity, I could feel the sweat pouring out of my body, but I would have sooner been run over by a locomotive than to reach up and wipe the sweat away. I dont know how many of you have ever been afraid before, but this was paralyzing fear; the kind that makes you feel as though you are having an out of body experience. Your brain is in the On position, but it is unable to process all that is happening at the moment. All I can remember thinking at that moment was oh my God, oh my God!
Parris Island is located in the southeastern corner of South Carolina; about 50 miles north of the Georgia border. It is affectionately referred to by South Carolinians as The Low Country; but the rest of the world would call it exactly what it isSwampland! Just as I felt the urge to join some of the other recruits in crying for my mother, the Drill Instructor that kicked us off the bus gave us a very quick geography lesson. This lesson was provided as a courtesy, just in case anyone was entertaining thoughts of trying to escape the island. He told us that the island was surrounded on three sides by swamp, and on the fourth side by the Broad River. He went on to explain that the swamp was thick and muddy enough to swallow a whole human being. If by chance you were fortunate enough to not be swallowed completely by the mud, it was thick enough to hold you in place until the tide would eventually roll in and drown you. He also made mention of the non-human inhabitants of the area such as alligators, crabs, snakes, and raccoons that were just waiting in the woods and swamp to make our acquaintance. Last but not least, he was even kind enough to mention that if one of us did somehow escape from the island, the locals out in town knew that they would receive fifty dollars for our body; apparently it did not matter whether the body was dead or alive. Needless to say that after hearing that little motivational speech, I began to cozy up to the idea of three full months on Parris Island.
Drill Instructors were not nice people when it came to recruits; they seemed to derive pleasure from the suffering of a recruit. Whenever a drill instructor saw a recruit suffering they were very quick to make you aware of the fact that you were indeed suffering, just so you could enjoy the mental stress of the moment also. During the hell that was that day of arrival, I heard some of the funniest things that could ever be said to another human being. One recruit had the audacity to show up with a tattoo of a bulldog and the letters U.S.M.C. underneath. When one of the drill instructors saw the tattoo he immediately alerted two other drill instructors to come and see what he had discovered. The three of them converged on this recruit and began to berate him so loudly, I can only relate it to the volume inside of a crowded sports pub during football season. Finally, one of the drill instructors asked the recruit what does the U.S.M.C. stand for? When the recruit answered United States Marine Corps, the drill instructor started screaming No, No, No; that doesnt stand for United States Marine Corps, that stands for U Suck My Cock!!! Caught by surprise and amused by the drill instructors response, I let out a slight gasp; it was the tiniest and most barely noticeable gasp in the history of the world. The next thing I knew a fist was placed squarely into my abdomen, and I was on the ground gasping for air. First lesson on Parris Islandlaughing (by recruits) was not allowed. Straining to hold back the tears of pain and the desire to retaliate, I picked myself up and resumed my place in the ranks.
The look of anger was apparently on my face, so the drill instructors took this opportunity to press me into retaliation so they could get rid of me on the spot. Under normal circumstances I would have hauled off and knocked this guy on his ass, but the blow to the abdomen actually started my brain to function again. The thought to retaliate did enter my mind, but at the same time came the memory of my mother telling me that I would not make it because of my temper. So I just stood there and endured while they put their hands in my face and barked in my ear. As I stood there ignoring them I regained my composure, and they eventually left me alone and moved on to someone else. We stood on those yellow footprints for what seemed like hours, enduring the abusive rant of the Drill Instructors, and the painful bites of the islands nearly invisible but most famous inhabitantssand fleas. I guess most people would refer to sand fleas as gnats, but the word gnat just does not capture the ferocity these nearly invisible sharks.
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