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By Jim Garamone PARRIS ISLAND, S.C. -- It's 3 a.m. and Marine drill instructors interrupt your beauty sleep by slamming the door to your hut and yelling for you and your fellow recruits to get out of the rack, get your gear on and get outside -- NOW!
Now it's almost over. By 8 a.m., your company will be on the Parade Deck of the Marine Corps Recruit Depot here, receiving the insignia with the symbol of the Marine Corps -- the eagle, globe and anchor. There's just one more hurdle to leap: a nine-mile road march. At 3:45 a.m., the company assembles. Your feet and muscles hurt, but other recruits limp into place, too. No one quits. Everyone wants to finish. The end is close enough you can almost taste it. You shoulder your backpack and weapon and clap on your Kevlar helmet. Then you check your teammates' equipment. One last slug from your canteen and you're ready. One of the drill instructors says that at least the weather is decent, and you have to agree. There hasn't been a drop of rain during this Crucible, and the temperature has gone from the upper 40s to the mid-80s. Right now, the temperature is in the 60s. It's humid, but nothing like when you got to the South Carolina lowlands 11 weeks ago. That, you recall, was the last time you had any individuality. Since then, you have been addressed as "recruit." You've had to begin every sentence with "Sir, this recruit would like to know ... ." You have learned to hate the word "recruit."
You notice Navy corpsmen, carrying at least 50 pounds of gear, checking out recruits who seem to be having difficulty. It's still dark. No one speaks, as if the effort might be too much. Actually, though, talking's not allowed. An hour and a little over three miles later, the formation stops. As you drop your pack, you notice sweat has soaked through everyone's BDU blouses. You've got a 10-minute break, to hit the head and drink more water. Some recruits sit on their packs and check their feet. Too soon, the drill instructors are rousting everyone. The other platoon takes the lead this time and you really understand what the accordion effect means. Drill instructors tell you to close up. "Don't run," they yell. "Just lengthen your stride." It doesn't work. You have to break into a trot to close up the space. Again, there is no talking. You focus on the pack in front of you and let your mind go blank. The sky is lightening in the east and you are getting closer to the end of this torture. A little over six miles into the march, you stop again. Your woodland pattern BDUs are soaked. You suck down some more water and get ready for the final stretch.
The company starts out. As you march you look to the side and see the swamps of Parris Island. Birds are starting to sing and you see white cranes walking through the shallows looking for food. The sun clears the horizon as you approach Drill Sergeants Bridge. Just before getting there, the senior drill instructor starts a Jody call. You and your team pick it up.
It makes it easier to march and takes your mind off those pack straps digging into your shoulders. As you approach the base, you see two figures off to the left -- it's the base commander and sergeant major. You must really be close! The Jody calls get louder as you reach the Parade Deck. Folks can probably hear you in Charleston! Finally, you get the order to halt. The road march is over. You ground your packs, stack your weapons and put that heavy Kevlar helmet on top of your pack. The soft cap never felt so good.
When he finishes, the first sergeant speaks. He tells you about the Marine Memorial and says you are about to join an elite company. The sculpture depicts real men -- four Marines and a Navy corpsman. The first sergeant tells you to never besmirch their memory. The color guard raises the flag, and then your drill instructor begins passing out the eagle, globe and anchor. He passes you the emblem, shakes your hand and says "Good work, Marine." |
