So I watched the sun rise this morning. Somewhere around halfway through I remembered that for the past month and a half I saw the sun rise every morning...from the PT field. And guess what? For the next month and a half I'm going to see the sun rise every morning...from the PT field. I quickly lost interest.
Before I left Ft Benning I remember our Battallion Commander giving us a briefing. "Dont do something stupid in a moment of weakness, men." In other words, dont go AWOL. It's not that I'm thinking of going AWOL, but I sure as hell am dreading going back. In a way I wish I had never left. When you're there it isnt so bad, it doesn't feel real. You wake up, do your thing, come home, rack out and do it all over again the next day without asking questions because you're told to.
But having this freedom to go to bed at 5 in the morning has ruined me. I havn't done any PT and I've eaten junk for my entire stay here at home. I'm screwed when I go back and I know it. I'm sure on our first day back we'll have a 4 mile run for PT. We always run on Fridays and we go back on a Thursday.
Maybe they'll even grace us with our 6 mile ruck march that they've been telling us about. Oh joy! Maybe I should talk a little bit about ruck marches. You carry a backpack full of equipment (about 40 pounds for us at the moment) and walk for miles. Sounds simple right? Add in the fact that your ruck is probably digging into your back, you're probably developing multiple blisters on each foot, and a few hills (read: mountains) and it turns into a little bit more than just a lovely walk through Ft. Benning.
Also add in the fact that you have to walk in straight lines in the dirt on each side of the road and you have to keep about 3-5 paces behind the guy in front of you. Having said this, the farther back in the line you are, the more and more it starts to feel like driving through Thanksgiving traffic. If the guy in front of you is going slow, you have to go slow, and then suddenly without warning he speeds up (runs). Guess what, you have to run right along with him, with all of the extra variables I listed above.
Our last ruck was a special treat. On this glorious day our 1SG decided that instead of taking transportation to the Grenade range we're going to Fred Flinstone it to work today. His words, not mine. So off we go into the foot hills (mountains) of Ft Benning. At first our DS told us it would be a 6 mile march. Then we were told less than a mile. So as we march we start to see the usual distance markers. 1/2 mile...1 mile...2 miles....2 1/2 miles...what the fuck? So we're marching up a hill and finally we make a left hand onto...you guessed it...an even steeper hill.
I'm leading the line on this march (Thanks Ruck God) and trying to keep in line with the other line leader on the opposite side of the road. By this time I'm sucking...hard. Of course our Drill Sergeant is dancing and prancing up and down our lines laughing his ass off at our suffering. After awhile I notice that the leader on the other side of the road is falling out and I have to set the pace myself. Ah yes...such a nice slow pace it was.
Eventually we arrive and after everyone finished throwing up and what not we reassemble our IBA (Improved Body Armor) and carry on with Grenade Training. At the end of the day we've been told we'll take Transportation back to the Company Area and call it a day. Guess what. The bus schedule got FUBARed so we're marching back. I laugh when the Platoon Guide says this. Good one PG, you had me going for a minute.
"HURRY UP PRIVATES PACK YOUR RUCK AND GET IN FORMATION HURRY THE FUCK UP!!!!"
I probably missed a few, but I think I covered just about every swear word in the swearing dictionary while packing my ruck and getting ready to move out. Hooraaaayyy now we get to march all the way back. I didn't feel too bad about it as I remembered how easy the ruck was until we hit the last quarter of a mile or so. So we move out and spirits are high. I'm singing cadences in my head and listening to the Drill Sergeants poke fun at all the privates.
One thing you learn early on is that during a ruck you always keep your head down and watch the feet of the guy infront of you. It basically puts you into auto pilot and you just walk. Soon I realized that I was having to lean forward quite a bit to keep pace. I looked up. The first thought through my head was "Thats a fucking big hill." And then I realized why the ruck to the range was so easy. It was downhill 95% of the way.
You see, all of the basic trainees on Ft Benning live on a place called Sand Hill. To be more specific, we live on top of the hill. As I said earlier, in most cases Hill should be read as Mountain. So up we went, on our journey up Sand Mountain. This time, I was in the very back of the line. Cue the slinky effect. About every 15 seconds or so, the guy in front of me would run his ass off to catch up with the guy in front of him, who was also running to catch up with the guy in front of him, and so on and so forth. We had a great time. Lots of "Stop falling behind and you wont have to run ass!" and "I cant d00d my ruck is messed up!".
After lots of crying, we actually made it back to the barracks. I had a short funeral for my left heel and then moved smartly to the latrine where I proceeded to pour cold water all over myself. I didn't have to worry about getting wet because I was already so drenched in sweat that you couldn't even tell I was wet to begin with. No harm no foul. Eventually I removed my boots to examine the battlefield. Ah yes, a nice puffy half dollar sized blister sticking out of my left heel. That'll feel great on the Company run tomorrow morning!
So we retired that night knowing that in 7 hours we would have to wake up and do it all over again. But every private on Sand Hill has something they tell themselves at night just before bed. Something that keeps them going. On our first day at Reception, a Drill Sergeant said something I'll never forget.
"How long is basic training Privates?"
Numbers filled the air. 9 weeks? 14 weeks? 3 months? Forever? Eventually it was silent again.
"Wrong Privates. Basic training is one day, the next day."
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Exodus
Half way done. It's strange being home. The second I sat back down in this chair where I spent the last 2 years I wanted to run back home/to Sand Hill. I hate the civilian world, especially when I can't hide in civilian clothes and have to walk around in my uniform. You'd think that living 10 minutes from Ft. Campbell people would be used to seeing soldiers, but everytime I go out with my uniform it's all eyes on me everywhere I go.
Thank you for your service! You're a hero!
No, I'm not. For the most part I'm not even a soldier yet, and I definately havn't earned the right to call myself an Infantryman yet. But you can't say that to them. You just smile, shake their hand, say Thank you and walk away wondering how many people saw that and are going to chase you down to do the same. I suppose I'm kind of a hypocrite, I don't complain when I get the eye from the girlies, but atleast they dont get all in my face and thank me for my "service" which has consisted of nothing more than getting yelled at all day and counting the days until I get off of Sand Hill and move on to my first duty station, which apparently is going to be Ft. Drum, NY with the 10th Mountain Division. "Cold ass Infantry" as the Drill Sergeants call them.
I'm really hoping the 10th Mountain thing is just a rumor but I'm kind of doubting it since I was there when the rumor was started...by the 1SG. Ft. Campbell with the 101st is where I want to be since it's so close to home. I've never really understood why all my buddys at basic want to get so far away from home. Even the ones that have good relationships with their familys want to go to places like Italy, Germany and Korea.
I suppose I could give you a day in the life of basic training. Seeing as I've spent the last 3 weeks going to the range everyday, a range day will be easiest to describe. Typically we would have wake up at 0430 and would have to shave, brush our teeth, and change into our PT uniform within about 15 minutes and be outside in the freezing cold before 0500 for first call. After first call we move as a company down to the PT field (a giant football field with a track around it covered in several feet of sand) to do, you guessed it, PT...or Physical Training. Usually it was Conditioning Drill 1 and 2 which was basic stretching followed by pushups, pull ups, dips, and maybe a few laps around the track.
After all of that was over we would move back to the bay and change into ACU's and then proceed to the Company Training Area which is basically just a big slab of concrete with a roof over it. We would then probably eat breakfast in the CTA which could either be just an MRE or they may pull the awesome card and actually bring us food from the Dining Facility. By now it's probably 0700 and we move back to the bay once more and secure our ruck sacks which weigh in at about 40 pounds right now. We would then move down to the road and ground our ruck sacks and wait for Transportation.
Once transportation arrived we would front load our rucks (basically you just wear it on your front instead of your back to make it easier to sit down on the bus) and board the vehicles. We would then pray that the range was somewhere in Kansas so we could have a nice nap. Only twice has it been on main post which is about a 20 minute drive. After the probably 5 minute drive we would unload, form up in the grass somewhere and ground our shit. From there we would move to the bleachers and withstand the most painful 15 minutes of the day and listen to the safety briefing and short explanation of what exactly would be going on that day.
From the bleachers we would then line up in 10 files or so and have our weapons rodded to check for any obstructions in the barrel and then oiled for some unknown reason. We would then get our firing line assignment and start getting called onto the range to fire our weapons. By the way, our M16A4s SUCK in every sense of the word. Half of them are taped together and the other half need to be but we ran out of tape. But I digress. After moving onto the firing line we would fire at whatever the hell we were supposed to be firing at that day. Pop ups, statics, double pop ups, the burm in front of the target, several feet to the left or right, oh my god look at that retarded bird that just landed in front of my target im going to blow the shit out of it.
When we first moved into Gunfighter phase and went to the ETS or something like that to fire fake M16s at a computer screen I found out that apparently I'm a really good shot. The average shot group was around 1.5cm and mine was a 0.6, one of the lowest (low is good) in my company. Go me! I will now explain to you why I only hit 30 out of 40 targets on qualification day. While we were all sitting in our files waiting to be called on the range there were a couple of restarts who had already qualified walking around giving out advice.
The advice was to take a few rounds out of our practice magazine and load them into our qualification magazines. Everyone acting like they were all going to do it but I think I'm the only genius that actually did it. Yeah, OH MY GOD INTEGRITY VIOLATION, I know, shut up. Anyway, so I get up to the firing line and theres a Drill standing on my lane pretty much breathing down the neck of the kid thats firing infront of me. My "oh shit im going to get caught"-o meter is going wild and theres no way I can fix my magazines right now because guess what. I got my magazines mixed up and have absolutely no idea which one is low and which ones have extra. Sweet! The Army Values God is really screwing me now.
After the kid in front of me fires and leaves the range the Drill moves to the next firing line down. I breathe a sigh of relief and get down into the prone position. I hold all 3 of my magazines and try to see if I can find the lighter one. I can't. I load one that kind of feels light and proceed to rock and roll. Once I get to the 16th round I pray to the M16 gods that this is the last round. A target pops up, I aim, squeeze, fire...and the bolt doesnt lock to the rear, meaning there are more than 16 rounds in this magazine, meaning I fucked myself. I continue to fire, knowing that I would never be able to reload a magazine without the Drill Sergeant noticing. "God I'm a dumbass" I think to myself.
Once we start firing for qualification, I start rockin and rollin. By the time I got to the kneeling position I had only missed 2 targets. I transition to the kneeling and see that there are a few extra rounds on the ground to my left in the dirt. I look around and quickly load them into the last magazine I have, this one obviously being the short one since my last one had all 20 in it. I breathe a sigh of relief, release the bolt and tap the forward assist. I put my arm through the sling just like my Drill Sergeant taught me to and start knocking the little green men down. About half way through the kneeling I've still only missed 2. I aim, squeeze, click...I pull the bolt to the rear and release it and it only goes half way forward. NO DAMNIT! I perform SPORTS. Slap the magazine, pull the charging handle, observe the magazine...ARG double feed. FUCKING MAGAZINE. Double feeds occur when a magazine is bent, usually caused by some stupid private tapping the magazine on his helmet like he's in the movies.
It probably took me around 15 to 20 seconds to get the damn double feed out and back into the firing position. I fire at another target and miss one but hit the other. SHIT! I aim, squeeze, click. I comprehend throwing my M16 downrange at the target, but 200 meters is a long way and the M16 weighs a lot. Defeated, I watch as target pair after target pair come up and go down while I fuck with my piece of shit weapon thats being jammed up by a 5.56mm piece of payback sent straight from the Army Values god. I manage to get it unjammed and ready for the last two pair which I knock down.
There goes Expert, probably Sharpshooter too. I walk back down to the clearing barrel and a Drill Sergeant from my platoon asks me how I did. "I jammed twice Drill Sergeant." The response is unexpected. "WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR WEAPON ON SEMI, PRIVATE? RAAAWWR RAAWRR RAAWR BLAH BLAH BLAH" I place the weapon on safe and continue to clear it and then walk over to the 1SG to get my score and badge.
I end up getting Sharpshooter with a 30 out of 40 which is still pretty good I guess considering my weapon was jam happy as hell. Oh well, I'll get another chance at my unit I guess. My senior Drill Sergeant saw I was pretty disappointed and walked over to the cleaning table with me and told me about how pretty much the same thing happened with him when he was in basic and he only got Sharpshooter too, but that since then his badge hasnt changed from Expert. It made me feel a lot better to hear that from him, especially since I already have so much respect for him. Drill Sergeant Smith is probably the best Drill Sergeant on the whole of Sand Hill. He told us on day 1 that he believes in leadership through respect, not through fear. If that man asked me to ruck march 30 miles to a mountain and then jump off of the fucker I probably would just because he's so awesome.
I just realised this post is so long that nobody will read it, as if anybody reads this blog anyway.
Thank you for your service! You're a hero!
No, I'm not. For the most part I'm not even a soldier yet, and I definately havn't earned the right to call myself an Infantryman yet. But you can't say that to them. You just smile, shake their hand, say Thank you and walk away wondering how many people saw that and are going to chase you down to do the same. I suppose I'm kind of a hypocrite, I don't complain when I get the eye from the girlies, but atleast they dont get all in my face and thank me for my "service" which has consisted of nothing more than getting yelled at all day and counting the days until I get off of Sand Hill and move on to my first duty station, which apparently is going to be Ft. Drum, NY with the 10th Mountain Division. "Cold ass Infantry" as the Drill Sergeants call them.
I'm really hoping the 10th Mountain thing is just a rumor but I'm kind of doubting it since I was there when the rumor was started...by the 1SG. Ft. Campbell with the 101st is where I want to be since it's so close to home. I've never really understood why all my buddys at basic want to get so far away from home. Even the ones that have good relationships with their familys want to go to places like Italy, Germany and Korea.
I suppose I could give you a day in the life of basic training. Seeing as I've spent the last 3 weeks going to the range everyday, a range day will be easiest to describe. Typically we would have wake up at 0430 and would have to shave, brush our teeth, and change into our PT uniform within about 15 minutes and be outside in the freezing cold before 0500 for first call. After first call we move as a company down to the PT field (a giant football field with a track around it covered in several feet of sand) to do, you guessed it, PT...or Physical Training. Usually it was Conditioning Drill 1 and 2 which was basic stretching followed by pushups, pull ups, dips, and maybe a few laps around the track.
After all of that was over we would move back to the bay and change into ACU's and then proceed to the Company Training Area which is basically just a big slab of concrete with a roof over it. We would then probably eat breakfast in the CTA which could either be just an MRE or they may pull the awesome card and actually bring us food from the Dining Facility. By now it's probably 0700 and we move back to the bay once more and secure our ruck sacks which weigh in at about 40 pounds right now. We would then move down to the road and ground our ruck sacks and wait for Transportation.
Once transportation arrived we would front load our rucks (basically you just wear it on your front instead of your back to make it easier to sit down on the bus) and board the vehicles. We would then pray that the range was somewhere in Kansas so we could have a nice nap. Only twice has it been on main post which is about a 20 minute drive. After the probably 5 minute drive we would unload, form up in the grass somewhere and ground our shit. From there we would move to the bleachers and withstand the most painful 15 minutes of the day and listen to the safety briefing and short explanation of what exactly would be going on that day.
From the bleachers we would then line up in 10 files or so and have our weapons rodded to check for any obstructions in the barrel and then oiled for some unknown reason. We would then get our firing line assignment and start getting called onto the range to fire our weapons. By the way, our M16A4s SUCK in every sense of the word. Half of them are taped together and the other half need to be but we ran out of tape. But I digress. After moving onto the firing line we would fire at whatever the hell we were supposed to be firing at that day. Pop ups, statics, double pop ups, the burm in front of the target, several feet to the left or right, oh my god look at that retarded bird that just landed in front of my target im going to blow the shit out of it.
When we first moved into Gunfighter phase and went to the ETS or something like that to fire fake M16s at a computer screen I found out that apparently I'm a really good shot. The average shot group was around 1.5cm and mine was a 0.6, one of the lowest (low is good) in my company. Go me! I will now explain to you why I only hit 30 out of 40 targets on qualification day. While we were all sitting in our files waiting to be called on the range there were a couple of restarts who had already qualified walking around giving out advice.
The advice was to take a few rounds out of our practice magazine and load them into our qualification magazines. Everyone acting like they were all going to do it but I think I'm the only genius that actually did it. Yeah, OH MY GOD INTEGRITY VIOLATION, I know, shut up. Anyway, so I get up to the firing line and theres a Drill standing on my lane pretty much breathing down the neck of the kid thats firing infront of me. My "oh shit im going to get caught"-o meter is going wild and theres no way I can fix my magazines right now because guess what. I got my magazines mixed up and have absolutely no idea which one is low and which ones have extra. Sweet! The Army Values God is really screwing me now.
After the kid in front of me fires and leaves the range the Drill moves to the next firing line down. I breathe a sigh of relief and get down into the prone position. I hold all 3 of my magazines and try to see if I can find the lighter one. I can't. I load one that kind of feels light and proceed to rock and roll. Once I get to the 16th round I pray to the M16 gods that this is the last round. A target pops up, I aim, squeeze, fire...and the bolt doesnt lock to the rear, meaning there are more than 16 rounds in this magazine, meaning I fucked myself. I continue to fire, knowing that I would never be able to reload a magazine without the Drill Sergeant noticing. "God I'm a dumbass" I think to myself.
Once we start firing for qualification, I start rockin and rollin. By the time I got to the kneeling position I had only missed 2 targets. I transition to the kneeling and see that there are a few extra rounds on the ground to my left in the dirt. I look around and quickly load them into the last magazine I have, this one obviously being the short one since my last one had all 20 in it. I breathe a sigh of relief, release the bolt and tap the forward assist. I put my arm through the sling just like my Drill Sergeant taught me to and start knocking the little green men down. About half way through the kneeling I've still only missed 2. I aim, squeeze, click...I pull the bolt to the rear and release it and it only goes half way forward. NO DAMNIT! I perform SPORTS. Slap the magazine, pull the charging handle, observe the magazine...ARG double feed. FUCKING MAGAZINE. Double feeds occur when a magazine is bent, usually caused by some stupid private tapping the magazine on his helmet like he's in the movies.
It probably took me around 15 to 20 seconds to get the damn double feed out and back into the firing position. I fire at another target and miss one but hit the other. SHIT! I aim, squeeze, click. I comprehend throwing my M16 downrange at the target, but 200 meters is a long way and the M16 weighs a lot. Defeated, I watch as target pair after target pair come up and go down while I fuck with my piece of shit weapon thats being jammed up by a 5.56mm piece of payback sent straight from the Army Values god. I manage to get it unjammed and ready for the last two pair which I knock down.
There goes Expert, probably Sharpshooter too. I walk back down to the clearing barrel and a Drill Sergeant from my platoon asks me how I did. "I jammed twice Drill Sergeant." The response is unexpected. "WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR WEAPON ON SEMI, PRIVATE? RAAAWWR RAAWRR RAAWR BLAH BLAH BLAH" I place the weapon on safe and continue to clear it and then walk over to the 1SG to get my score and badge.
I end up getting Sharpshooter with a 30 out of 40 which is still pretty good I guess considering my weapon was jam happy as hell. Oh well, I'll get another chance at my unit I guess. My senior Drill Sergeant saw I was pretty disappointed and walked over to the cleaning table with me and told me about how pretty much the same thing happened with him when he was in basic and he only got Sharpshooter too, but that since then his badge hasnt changed from Expert. It made me feel a lot better to hear that from him, especially since I already have so much respect for him. Drill Sergeant Smith is probably the best Drill Sergeant on the whole of Sand Hill. He told us on day 1 that he believes in leadership through respect, not through fear. If that man asked me to ruck march 30 miles to a mountain and then jump off of the fucker I probably would just because he's so awesome.
I just realised this post is so long that nobody will read it, as if anybody reads this blog anyway.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Last Hoo(r)ah
The night before I ship. I'm more fearful getting down there and not having something that was on the packing list than I am of the actual BCT itself. I'm lucky in the sense that, because of my training schedule, I'll have a two week break right in the middle of my training cycle to rest up and see friends and stuff. I'll let you know how that goes. I think the hardest things about that will be worrying about the cost of flying back and forth and actually having to go back to Hell...I mean Benning.
I'm almost positive that I'm going to end up in "Fat Camp" for my run time but I'm trying to stay optomistic about it. I've made up my mind that during the initial PT Assessment I'll just run as hard as I can until I die or they tell me to stop. The first one seems more likely. I used to run just about everyday but around the time that I started my MEPS journey I cut out the running totally. I probably havn't ran in over a month so the two months or so of progress that I made on my run time are probably wasted by now.
My hopes and dreams in the Army? A secondary goal of mine is to be in a Sniper unit but my main focus is on the Special Forces. Some of the coolest people I've known are or were SF Operators. I'm sure you're thinking "Great, get in line kid." but for me this is the one thing that nobody can ever convince me to quit on. The second I get my GT score in shape (currently 101, 110 required for 18B which is what I want) and my body in shape, I'm going for it.
Hopefully I don't get to post on here until Christmas. If I was able to, it would mean that I either quit (not happening) or am injured severely enough that I've been placed in an area with computers. This would be a bad thing.
Anyways, I suppose I'm off to do things like go over my packing list for a third time. Hopefully the Drill Sergeants square me away nicely and I'll graduate with a blue cord and my silver wings if the dice fall in my favor. And the real journey begins. Hooah!
I'm almost positive that I'm going to end up in "Fat Camp" for my run time but I'm trying to stay optomistic about it. I've made up my mind that during the initial PT Assessment I'll just run as hard as I can until I die or they tell me to stop. The first one seems more likely. I used to run just about everyday but around the time that I started my MEPS journey I cut out the running totally. I probably havn't ran in over a month so the two months or so of progress that I made on my run time are probably wasted by now.
My hopes and dreams in the Army? A secondary goal of mine is to be in a Sniper unit but my main focus is on the Special Forces. Some of the coolest people I've known are or were SF Operators. I'm sure you're thinking "Great, get in line kid." but for me this is the one thing that nobody can ever convince me to quit on. The second I get my GT score in shape (currently 101, 110 required for 18B which is what I want) and my body in shape, I'm going for it.
Hopefully I don't get to post on here until Christmas. If I was able to, it would mean that I either quit (not happening) or am injured severely enough that I've been placed in an area with computers. This would be a bad thing.
Anyways, I suppose I'm off to do things like go over my packing list for a third time. Hopefully the Drill Sergeants square me away nicely and I'll graduate with a blue cord and my silver wings if the dice fall in my favor. And the real journey begins. Hooah!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Waiting game
So here I sit, counting the days, hours, seconds off on the caldender until my ass is grass. Unfortunately the days seem to go by faster and faster, there's never enough time to do everything I want to. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe basic will go by quickly. Somehow I doubt it. I got everything on my pre-basic task list finished except for the PT section. Me and my recruiter are supposed to do that the day before I leave, which is tomorrow I guess. I can't wait to fail.
Me and my recruiter we're talking while he was over here and he said something along the lines of "Dont worry about it man youll have fun at basic" and I responded with a "I hope so." Not a sad "I hope so" but more of a realistic one. Of course he took it as a sign of me wishing I hadn't signed up which isnt the case. At this point all of the excitement (or nervous energy) is being replaced with more of a "Lets just get this over with" additude. I don't know if there's a word for that or not.
One thing I am dreading about basic is the tendonitis in my knees and ankles which will, without a doubt, hit me during the first two or three weeks. I remember how much of a hell middle and high school football was during the first few weeks of every season trying to cope with a pain you have no control over and no idea when/if it will end. That was always the hardest thing about football for me. Not the pushups, situps, butterfly kicks none of that stuff. That was easy compared to having to pop pills 24/7 so it didn't feel like your knees and ankles were exploding. I don't think I'll quit but I know there will be plenty of whining. I continued football practice with a broken leg (which was mistaken for tendonitis by 3 doctors) for several weeks before throwing in the towel so maybe I'll be Army Strong enough to suck it up. Heh.
Me and my recruiter we're talking while he was over here and he said something along the lines of "Dont worry about it man youll have fun at basic" and I responded with a "I hope so." Not a sad "I hope so" but more of a realistic one. Of course he took it as a sign of me wishing I hadn't signed up which isnt the case. At this point all of the excitement (or nervous energy) is being replaced with more of a "Lets just get this over with" additude. I don't know if there's a word for that or not.
One thing I am dreading about basic is the tendonitis in my knees and ankles which will, without a doubt, hit me during the first two or three weeks. I remember how much of a hell middle and high school football was during the first few weeks of every season trying to cope with a pain you have no control over and no idea when/if it will end. That was always the hardest thing about football for me. Not the pushups, situps, butterfly kicks none of that stuff. That was easy compared to having to pop pills 24/7 so it didn't feel like your knees and ankles were exploding. I don't think I'll quit but I know there will be plenty of whining. I continued football practice with a broken leg (which was mistaken for tendonitis by 3 doctors) for several weeks before throwing in the towel so maybe I'll be Army Strong enough to suck it up. Heh.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The DEP Process
The "DEP" is the Delayed Entry Program. It's basically the time between when you sign the contract, and when you ship off to basic and during this time you're supposed to keep in touch with your recruiter and stay out of trouble. Not too hard for me since my DEP time will only be about 1 week. But for some reason my recruiter is hell bent on getting me promoted during this 1 week period. Why? I dont even care about the promotion really. I'm not in this for the money so the only point in me getting a promotion is to just say that I am an E2 instead of an E1.
Of course I havn't told my recruiter yet, but if I were in his shoes I wouldn't be trying to go through all of the shit to get somebody promoted unless they asked me first. Not only that but in my current state I'm not confident in my ability to run 1 mile in 8 minutes and 30 seconds, much less the 2 miles in some other bullshit amount of time that is required to pass the running portion of this "little PT test" as he calls. I know, for so many people it's pathetically easy, but I SUCK at running. I will do push ups and sit ups until the sun goes down, but when someone says "Run", I say "Why?" I'm prepared to go to "Fat Camp" at basic if I have to, but I don't see a reason to injure myself beforehand just because my recruiter wants to tell his 1SG that he shipped off an E2 instead of an E1. Welcome to the Army I guess.
Of course I havn't told my recruiter yet, but if I were in his shoes I wouldn't be trying to go through all of the shit to get somebody promoted unless they asked me first. Not only that but in my current state I'm not confident in my ability to run 1 mile in 8 minutes and 30 seconds, much less the 2 miles in some other bullshit amount of time that is required to pass the running portion of this "little PT test" as he calls. I know, for so many people it's pathetically easy, but I SUCK at running. I will do push ups and sit ups until the sun goes down, but when someone says "Run", I say "Why?" I'm prepared to go to "Fat Camp" at basic if I have to, but I don't see a reason to injure myself beforehand just because my recruiter wants to tell his 1SG that he shipped off an E2 instead of an E1. Welcome to the Army I guess.
To the MEPS pt. 2
Despite injesting my sleep aids, I wake up at about midnight and just decide to get up and tough it out for the next 15 hours or so. Bad idea. So 4 a.m. rolls around and it's raining like hell outside. I run out to my recruiters car and attempt to get in and the door is locked. I knock on the window and he looks at me like I'm retard. He lets me in after about 10 seconds. Thanks buddy!
We arrive at the MEPS and everyone lines up at the front door. Same old shit and I go in and start the process of selling my skin sack to the government...again. I don't have to do the physical this time around so I'm pretty optimistic that I'll get out of there within just a few hours. I get my packet and the lady at the control desk tells me to head up to medical. What? I was told I dont need to do my physical again. "Right, but you need to get your waiver signed by the doctor upstairs."
I head up to medical and the lady that fucked me over on my first trip tells me to "Head down the hall, hook a left, have a seat in the chairs at the last door on the left." So I head down the hall, hook a left, and have a seat in the chairs at the last door on the left. After a few minutes an old guy who looks like he's about to die walks into the door that I'm waiting in front of, puts a headset on and starts watching some TV.
I'm not really sure if this is the doctor im supposed to wait for so I continue waiting like an idiot. Eventually another lady comes around and tells me to go ahead and go in. The doctor pretends to be embarrased and signs off on my shit and tells me not to eat so much salt. Thanks for the tip!
I go back downstairs and sit in with the Army liason. "What do you want to be in the Army?" "Infantry." He snickers. "Fuck you" I think to myself. I'm unreasonably tired at this point and really just want to go home. So I get through all of the paper work and get my 11x contract for 4 years and 19 weeks. Yay. Just before I sign on the dotted line I remember that I wanted to go FUCKING Airborne. SHIT! "Uhm...sorry but I forgot to mention that I wanted to go Airborne as well."
Without batting an eye this dweeb looks me right in the eye and says "You cant.". The conversation goes a little something like this.
Me: "Why not?"
Him: "Because it isn't showing up on the computer."
Me: "Can you call the ROC?"
Him: "Who have you been talking to?"
Me: "Can you call the ROC?"
Him: "Siiiiiiigggggghhhhhhh"
He calls the ROC which as I understand it is the place that handles all the paperwork for Army recruites. Im not really sure I just know that everyone says to tell them to call the ROC if something isnt on the computer. The ROC says they're at double capacity this quarter and there are no more slots, period. Fuck!
The liason calls the MEPS Commander for some reason and asks him if theres anything that can be done. Nope. So the liason is going through my contract.
"Alright so you've got 11X Infantry Recruit, Ft. Benning is your OSUT location and your enlistment time is 4 years and 19 weeks. You've got a 30,000 dollar enlistment bonus and you qualify for the Montgomery GI Bill. Any questions?"
I wake up and tell him no. We shake hands and I thank him for assisting me in selling my soul and head out to the front desk to have my interview and to swear in and go home. At this point it's about 7 a.m. I should be out of here in another hour or two. The lady at the desk tells me that it's going to be awhile and I take a seat. The seat looks like somebody snuck in at night and jizzed all over it but whatever.
A few minutes later my recruiter swings by and I show him my contract. He's more excited than I am over the bonus. I don't really care because I can think of a few dozen ways to blow $30,000 in one day, but I guess its alright. Now begins the longest wait of my life. I wait, and wait, and wait. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to go to sleep so I fight it. Eventually I'm to the point where I'm falling asleep with my eyes open. Fucking sleeping aids, fuck off! At around noon or so I get called in to be interviewed.
My interviewer looks like New York from that show "Flavor of Love". This is a bad thing. So we get to work on the same questions I have been asked about 20 times. It takes about 5 minutes and I retire to the same jizz covered seat. All that's left now is to be sworn in. I wait about another hour and my name is called to go into the briefing room. We sit down and that same cool lady that did my fingerprints the last time is there and proves, once again, that she is the only cool person at the Nashville MEPS.
She then leaves us to wait for the MEPS Commander, a Marine Captain, to come swear us in. At this point I am terrified. Not of the Captain who is about to come in and give us the evil eye for a few minutes, but just of the fact that "it" is actually happening now. I'm about to swear in to 4 years and 19 weeks of pure shit. For no real reason other than I feel like I have to. I'm not having second thoughts, but I'm definately freaking out.
Eventually the Captain comes in and at first I thought he had chew in his mouth or something, but as he turned to face us I saw it was just him smerking. This is going to be fun. He starts going around the room and asking everyone what branch of service they're joining, what job and for how long. He gets to me and I make a fool out of myself. "I'm joining the Army as an Infantry recruit for four years and 19 days, I mean months, I mean weeks."
Anyway we head into the ceremony room and I've calmed down by now and actually feel kind of proud of myself for being physically, morally and mentally qualified to join the United States Armed Forces, although I disagree with the last one after my fuck up in the briefing room. Anyway as we're standing at attention and reading the oath, my legs begin shaking. Nobody noticed it, or didn't find it funny enough to laugh and I made it through without making an ass of myself anymore.
So there you have it. I am now enlisted into the Army Reserves, and on the 25th of October I will report to the MEPS Station for active duty where I will be transported to Fort Benning, Georgia to begin my One Station Unit Training for the U.S. Army Infantry. Is this the part where I say Hooah? Well, fuck it. Hooah!
We arrive at the MEPS and everyone lines up at the front door. Same old shit and I go in and start the process of selling my skin sack to the government...again. I don't have to do the physical this time around so I'm pretty optimistic that I'll get out of there within just a few hours. I get my packet and the lady at the control desk tells me to head up to medical. What? I was told I dont need to do my physical again. "Right, but you need to get your waiver signed by the doctor upstairs."
I head up to medical and the lady that fucked me over on my first trip tells me to "Head down the hall, hook a left, have a seat in the chairs at the last door on the left." So I head down the hall, hook a left, and have a seat in the chairs at the last door on the left. After a few minutes an old guy who looks like he's about to die walks into the door that I'm waiting in front of, puts a headset on and starts watching some TV.
I'm not really sure if this is the doctor im supposed to wait for so I continue waiting like an idiot. Eventually another lady comes around and tells me to go ahead and go in. The doctor pretends to be embarrased and signs off on my shit and tells me not to eat so much salt. Thanks for the tip!
I go back downstairs and sit in with the Army liason. "What do you want to be in the Army?" "Infantry." He snickers. "Fuck you" I think to myself. I'm unreasonably tired at this point and really just want to go home. So I get through all of the paper work and get my 11x contract for 4 years and 19 weeks. Yay. Just before I sign on the dotted line I remember that I wanted to go FUCKING Airborne. SHIT! "Uhm...sorry but I forgot to mention that I wanted to go Airborne as well."
Without batting an eye this dweeb looks me right in the eye and says "You cant.". The conversation goes a little something like this.
Me: "Why not?"
Him: "Because it isn't showing up on the computer."
Me: "Can you call the ROC?"
Him: "Who have you been talking to?"
Me: "Can you call the ROC?"
Him: "Siiiiiiigggggghhhhhhh"
He calls the ROC which as I understand it is the place that handles all the paperwork for Army recruites. Im not really sure I just know that everyone says to tell them to call the ROC if something isnt on the computer. The ROC says they're at double capacity this quarter and there are no more slots, period. Fuck!
The liason calls the MEPS Commander for some reason and asks him if theres anything that can be done. Nope. So the liason is going through my contract.
"Alright so you've got 11X Infantry Recruit, Ft. Benning is your OSUT location and your enlistment time is 4 years and 19 weeks. You've got a 30,000 dollar enlistment bonus and you qualify for the Montgomery GI Bill. Any questions?"
I wake up and tell him no. We shake hands and I thank him for assisting me in selling my soul and head out to the front desk to have my interview and to swear in and go home. At this point it's about 7 a.m. I should be out of here in another hour or two. The lady at the desk tells me that it's going to be awhile and I take a seat. The seat looks like somebody snuck in at night and jizzed all over it but whatever.
A few minutes later my recruiter swings by and I show him my contract. He's more excited than I am over the bonus. I don't really care because I can think of a few dozen ways to blow $30,000 in one day, but I guess its alright. Now begins the longest wait of my life. I wait, and wait, and wait. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to go to sleep so I fight it. Eventually I'm to the point where I'm falling asleep with my eyes open. Fucking sleeping aids, fuck off! At around noon or so I get called in to be interviewed.
My interviewer looks like New York from that show "Flavor of Love". This is a bad thing. So we get to work on the same questions I have been asked about 20 times. It takes about 5 minutes and I retire to the same jizz covered seat. All that's left now is to be sworn in. I wait about another hour and my name is called to go into the briefing room. We sit down and that same cool lady that did my fingerprints the last time is there and proves, once again, that she is the only cool person at the Nashville MEPS.
She then leaves us to wait for the MEPS Commander, a Marine Captain, to come swear us in. At this point I am terrified. Not of the Captain who is about to come in and give us the evil eye for a few minutes, but just of the fact that "it" is actually happening now. I'm about to swear in to 4 years and 19 weeks of pure shit. For no real reason other than I feel like I have to. I'm not having second thoughts, but I'm definately freaking out.
Eventually the Captain comes in and at first I thought he had chew in his mouth or something, but as he turned to face us I saw it was just him smerking. This is going to be fun. He starts going around the room and asking everyone what branch of service they're joining, what job and for how long. He gets to me and I make a fool out of myself. "I'm joining the Army as an Infantry recruit for four years and 19 days, I mean months, I mean weeks."
Anyway we head into the ceremony room and I've calmed down by now and actually feel kind of proud of myself for being physically, morally and mentally qualified to join the United States Armed Forces, although I disagree with the last one after my fuck up in the briefing room. Anyway as we're standing at attention and reading the oath, my legs begin shaking. Nobody noticed it, or didn't find it funny enough to laugh and I made it through without making an ass of myself anymore.
So there you have it. I am now enlisted into the Army Reserves, and on the 25th of October I will report to the MEPS Station for active duty where I will be transported to Fort Benning, Georgia to begin my One Station Unit Training for the U.S. Army Infantry. Is this the part where I say Hooah? Well, fuck it. Hooah!
The Doctors Office pt. 3
So my recruiter stops by and informs me that the waiver was denied. Apparently I actually do need 3 good blood pressures over 3 different days. Bummer. So I get another appointment for the doctors.
Third times a charm right?
So I arose for another day of great fun. I'll skip all of the "fun" parts and just cut to the chase. 140 over 68...141 over 65...143 over 61 and so on. YAAAAAY! So I can't remember whether or not the disqualification point is 140 over 90 or 139 over 89. I just have the doctor write down the BP reading and the good BPs that I got from the other times I had been there just to be safe.
I take the note to my recruiter and he looks at the readings. I ask him if those meet the standards and he looks at the note and his eyes kind of go distant and he gives me a "uhhh....yeah". He has no clue. I go home and start to wonder what it would be like to just say fuck it and go apply for a civilian job.
Later that evening at about 8 my recruiter calls and tells me to just hang out by my phone the next day incase it goes through so that he can take me down to MEPS as a walk in. "Blah blah blah, yeah alright I'll talk to ya later."
30 minutes later my mom comes home and apparently right after my recruiter hung up with me he called my mom and my waiver has been accepted. I'm to be ready at 4 a.m. Something weird happened. I wasn't happy at all, or sad or anything really. No emotions. Nothing. It was actually happening. I took my sleep aids and passed out.
Third times a charm right?
So I arose for another day of great fun. I'll skip all of the "fun" parts and just cut to the chase. 140 over 68...141 over 65...143 over 61 and so on. YAAAAAY! So I can't remember whether or not the disqualification point is 140 over 90 or 139 over 89. I just have the doctor write down the BP reading and the good BPs that I got from the other times I had been there just to be safe.
I take the note to my recruiter and he looks at the readings. I ask him if those meet the standards and he looks at the note and his eyes kind of go distant and he gives me a "uhhh....yeah". He has no clue. I go home and start to wonder what it would be like to just say fuck it and go apply for a civilian job.
Later that evening at about 8 my recruiter calls and tells me to just hang out by my phone the next day incase it goes through so that he can take me down to MEPS as a walk in. "Blah blah blah, yeah alright I'll talk to ya later."
30 minutes later my mom comes home and apparently right after my recruiter hung up with me he called my mom and my waiver has been accepted. I'm to be ready at 4 a.m. Something weird happened. I wasn't happy at all, or sad or anything really. No emotions. Nothing. It was actually happening. I took my sleep aids and passed out.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Doctors Office pt. 2
Important day today. Today decides whether or not I get to go to the MEPS in a few days, apply for my waiver, talk to a counselor and enlist. As opposed to waiting around for several months trying to get my blood pressure to a reasonable level before starting the entire MEPS process all over again.
So I woke up this morning and took my BP. 12670 Woot! Anyway, I get ready and head off to the doctors feeling pretty confident. Blah blah blah I get into the doctors office and the nurse takes my BP. 14076. Wow, 1 point away from glory. So the nurse leaves the room and the doctor (whom I've known since birth) comes in. He's very excited that I'm joining the military (his son and step son are both in the Army) and he cuts me a break. He looks back through my recent medical history and pulls 3 standards meeting BPs from there. GOOD TO FUCKING GO! Thank you Doctor Badass.
Now the next thing I have to worry about is my PULHES Physical Profile from MEPS. Currently it's 311111. The 3 being the category for things such as high blood pressure. Go figure. Anyway my recruiter said that once we get back down to MEPS and I get my waiver through it should change that 3 to a 1 meaning that, medically speaking, I would be qualified for every job the US military has to offer. Woohoo!
So I woke up this morning and took my BP. 12670 Woot! Anyway, I get ready and head off to the doctors feeling pretty confident. Blah blah blah I get into the doctors office and the nurse takes my BP. 14076. Wow, 1 point away from glory. So the nurse leaves the room and the doctor (whom I've known since birth) comes in. He's very excited that I'm joining the military (his son and step son are both in the Army) and he cuts me a break. He looks back through my recent medical history and pulls 3 standards meeting BPs from there. GOOD TO FUCKING GO! Thank you Doctor Badass.
Now the next thing I have to worry about is my PULHES Physical Profile from MEPS. Currently it's 311111. The 3 being the category for things such as high blood pressure. Go figure. Anyway my recruiter said that once we get back down to MEPS and I get my waiver through it should change that 3 to a 1 meaning that, medically speaking, I would be qualified for every job the US military has to offer. Woohoo!
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Doctors Office
This blog is now officially up to date. Anyway
So I went to the doctors office today. Great fun. Let me begin. We arrived at the doctors (Pediatrician to be exact since I'm still under 18) and went into the well child waiting room. A lady came in and informed me and my mom that this would probably be my last visit since I was almost 18 making me feel even more out of place among all of these little kids and crying babys.
Finally they called for me and we went into a room and one of the nurses came in and asked what we were here for today. I gave her the spill on what I needed. (3 blood pressure readings under 140 over 90 and a note listing the readings and saying I was good to join the military) She looked at us funny and took my blood pressure. 126 over 73. Good, the aspirin is working. She then took it again. 129 over 77. Again, excellent. I look at her and she looks very worried. I ask her whats wrong and she says she'll be right back and quickly leaves the room. Here we fucking go. Another (pretty) lady comes in and begins taking my blood pressure in a slighty different way. She gets a 134 over 81. Still ok. Next a 138 over 84. Shit. It is at this point that I realize neither of the nurses wrote the readings down. FUCK.
The real doctor (Doctor Price) then comes in and we tell him whats up. I've seen this doctor before and he was pretty cool. He even showed me how to equalize the pressure in my ears or some shit and drew a diagram of how your ear, throat and nose are connected. Pretty cool. Anyway, after giving him the run down he takes my blood pressure on my other arm. 130 something over 80 something. Still fine. He then drops a bomb and says "Ok, so now I guess you just need to make two more appointments and I'll write that note." I inform him that his guess is FUCKING wrong and tell him that the MEPS doctor told me he would just have to get 3 good readings and write the note. Not 3 reading on seperate occasions.
Dr. Price looks absolutely puzzled. It is at this moment that I realize that I am, once again, fucked. He eventually agrees to take 2 more readings and guess what? 142 over 83 and 144 over 82. Apparently I can't catch a fucking break. I inform him that the nurses took several good readings and he then informs me that he is King Shit of Turd Island and that since he didn't take the readings they don't count. All coolness is at this point revoked.
As we were leaving I called my recruiter to leave him a message telling him that I got fucked at the doctor. Later in the day he drops by my house and while not nearly as pissed as he was at the MEPS he still seemed pretty frustrated and just told me to get it squared away and we would get down to MEPS and get me in the Army ASAP. At this point my $20,000 bonus is still gone but there is still a fairly high bonus out for the 11X(Infantry) MOS and if I can get down there and enlist next week I'll be able to snag that one and ship out Friday the 5th.
Oh well. I guess I'll try again on Monday with Dr. Campbell. He's known me since birth so maybe he'll cut me some slack.
So I went to the doctors office today. Great fun. Let me begin. We arrived at the doctors (Pediatrician to be exact since I'm still under 18) and went into the well child waiting room. A lady came in and informed me and my mom that this would probably be my last visit since I was almost 18 making me feel even more out of place among all of these little kids and crying babys.
Finally they called for me and we went into a room and one of the nurses came in and asked what we were here for today. I gave her the spill on what I needed. (3 blood pressure readings under 140 over 90 and a note listing the readings and saying I was good to join the military) She looked at us funny and took my blood pressure. 126 over 73. Good, the aspirin is working. She then took it again. 129 over 77. Again, excellent. I look at her and she looks very worried. I ask her whats wrong and she says she'll be right back and quickly leaves the room. Here we fucking go. Another (pretty) lady comes in and begins taking my blood pressure in a slighty different way. She gets a 134 over 81. Still ok. Next a 138 over 84. Shit. It is at this point that I realize neither of the nurses wrote the readings down. FUCK.
The real doctor (Doctor Price) then comes in and we tell him whats up. I've seen this doctor before and he was pretty cool. He even showed me how to equalize the pressure in my ears or some shit and drew a diagram of how your ear, throat and nose are connected. Pretty cool. Anyway, after giving him the run down he takes my blood pressure on my other arm. 130 something over 80 something. Still fine. He then drops a bomb and says "Ok, so now I guess you just need to make two more appointments and I'll write that note." I inform him that his guess is FUCKING wrong and tell him that the MEPS doctor told me he would just have to get 3 good readings and write the note. Not 3 reading on seperate occasions.
Dr. Price looks absolutely puzzled. It is at this moment that I realize that I am, once again, fucked. He eventually agrees to take 2 more readings and guess what? 142 over 83 and 144 over 82. Apparently I can't catch a fucking break. I inform him that the nurses took several good readings and he then informs me that he is King Shit of Turd Island and that since he didn't take the readings they don't count. All coolness is at this point revoked.
As we were leaving I called my recruiter to leave him a message telling him that I got fucked at the doctor. Later in the day he drops by my house and while not nearly as pissed as he was at the MEPS he still seemed pretty frustrated and just told me to get it squared away and we would get down to MEPS and get me in the Army ASAP. At this point my $20,000 bonus is still gone but there is still a fairly high bonus out for the 11X(Infantry) MOS and if I can get down there and enlist next week I'll be able to snag that one and ship out Friday the 5th.
Oh well. I guess I'll try again on Monday with Dr. Campbell. He's known me since birth so maybe he'll cut me some slack.
To the MEPS...(continued)
DD eventually stands up and announces that he's ready and if anybodys going to try to kick his ass, then do it now. Everyone laughs and we head back out to the lounge area to wait for the bus. We turn in our cards and head out to the bus, or the 3 things that are a mix between a bus and a passenger van. They're actually really nice and the ride is over before I wanted it to be.
We all get out into the pouring rain and head to the front door. It's locked so we wait. Eventually a Marine comes out and gives us the rundown. He tells us what the day is going to be like and tells us to tuck our shirts in or fucking leave. We obide and he lets us in. We head down to our branch of service and as soon as I walk into the Army office I see Zidane (from the ride down to Nashville) getting chewed out by some civilian. He basically ignores the guy which only pisses him off more. I get my packet and cute little name tag and start a pretty shitty day.
We go into a classroom and a Navy guy (I think) comes in and goes into detail about whats going to happen and what to do and not to do. All of the people (including me) who have GEDs are told to stay behind and he sends everyone else to the next step. We take the AIMS test which is to see if we're as big of fuck ups as the Army thinks were going to be and then catch up with everyone else. As we're all waiting for our eye exams a very ugly lady comes around and takes all of our blood pressures. When she gets to me she pumps the cuff up like hell until it explodes in my face, scaring the shit out of me. She then retrieves what appears to be a thigh cuff or something and places it on my arm. She pumps it up and puts a sticker in my packet and tells me I need to lower my blood pressure. Get out of my fucking face.
After the eye exam, and hearing exam we walk down the hall into another classroom. We do a bunch more paperwork about any medical problems we've had in the past and we have our breathalyzer test. She sends everyone else on their way and tells me to stay behind. Fucking great I thought, I've failed the breathalyzer in some mysterious way. Turns out she wanted to take my blood pressure again.
She starts the machine up and walks outside for a minute. I look at the little screen and it says something like 132 over 80. She comes back about 5 minutes later and starts the machine again, and leaves. This time it was 138 or so over 85 I think. The third time I ask her if she could actually stay and write down the reading this time. She then gives me a mean look and tells me to run downstairs to the control desk and tell them to warn me. Oh yeah, and she gives me 2 minutes. I run downstairs, the Marine from outside is there and he just laughs and sends me back. I run back and she immediately hooks me back up in record time and takes my blood pressure again. 150 something over a high 80. Fuck. She writes Elevated BP in my packet and smiles at me like the bitch she is. I know deep inside she has just fucked me.
I catch up with everyone else and have my blood drawn and do a urinalysis and sit down with a doctor to go over my medical history. I'm a GO at every station. Next is the physical. 8 of us go into a room and strip down to our underwear and are weighed. I'm overweight of course and have to be taped. I pass. I then go into a room with a doctor and he makes sure everything works and touches my balls. Yay.
He then sits down and looks through my packet. I had basically forgotten about the blood pressure bullshit but it was still in my packet unfortunately. He then informs me that I'm disqualified because of my blood pressure. He asked me if I was just nervous or something and I told him about the whole ordeal with that woman and he sighed and said there was nothing he could do. He wrote me a note to take to my doctor and said that all I would have to do is get 3 good (under 140 over 90) blood pressure readings from a private physician and then return to MEPS with a note saying I was good to go. Fucking great. Im glad thats ALL I have to do.
I walk out of his room and put my clothes back on and catch up with everyone. If I hadnt been disqualified this is the part where I would go into the Army office and pick my job, then go swear in and go home. But why the fuck would that happen. I go into the Army office and inform a guy wearing an ACU that I've been DQ'd for blood pressure. Hes really professional about it and tells me that it happens all the time and says the same shit the doctor did. He then takes my packet and has me go down to finger printing so that when I return I wont have any more bullshit to go through and I can just get in and out.
I go down to finger printing and the most friendly lady I met all day at the MEPS goes through my FBI file and just verifies my social security number and and address and such. She then takes me to the finger printing machine and asks if I have any dirt or poop on my fingers. I laugh and we get my finger prints in. I wonder to myself why everyone else at the MEPS can't be cool like her and then meet up with my recruiter who was pretty pissed. I'm not sure if it was at me or at the lady who FUCKED me over. But he was pissed nonetheless. He looked for a loophole but there wasnt one. Another guy who had come down with Sgt. Stevens got a job and $30,000 in bonuses. Nice. Did I mentioned that since I got fucked by that lady I lost my $20,000 bonus? Well I did. Anyway.
We head back home and I get to sit in the oven, I mean the back seat of my recruiters car and get extremely car sick. I managed keep that shitty sub sandwich from the MEPS in my stomach and finally got home. It seemed surreal, like I wasn't really there. I was just really tired I guess. I collapsed on my bed and put every curse in the book on that woman who fucked me over before passing out. FUCK MEPS.
We all get out into the pouring rain and head to the front door. It's locked so we wait. Eventually a Marine comes out and gives us the rundown. He tells us what the day is going to be like and tells us to tuck our shirts in or fucking leave. We obide and he lets us in. We head down to our branch of service and as soon as I walk into the Army office I see Zidane (from the ride down to Nashville) getting chewed out by some civilian. He basically ignores the guy which only pisses him off more. I get my packet and cute little name tag and start a pretty shitty day.
We go into a classroom and a Navy guy (I think) comes in and goes into detail about whats going to happen and what to do and not to do. All of the people (including me) who have GEDs are told to stay behind and he sends everyone else to the next step. We take the AIMS test which is to see if we're as big of fuck ups as the Army thinks were going to be and then catch up with everyone else. As we're all waiting for our eye exams a very ugly lady comes around and takes all of our blood pressures. When she gets to me she pumps the cuff up like hell until it explodes in my face, scaring the shit out of me. She then retrieves what appears to be a thigh cuff or something and places it on my arm. She pumps it up and puts a sticker in my packet and tells me I need to lower my blood pressure. Get out of my fucking face.
After the eye exam, and hearing exam we walk down the hall into another classroom. We do a bunch more paperwork about any medical problems we've had in the past and we have our breathalyzer test. She sends everyone else on their way and tells me to stay behind. Fucking great I thought, I've failed the breathalyzer in some mysterious way. Turns out she wanted to take my blood pressure again.
She starts the machine up and walks outside for a minute. I look at the little screen and it says something like 132 over 80. She comes back about 5 minutes later and starts the machine again, and leaves. This time it was 138 or so over 85 I think. The third time I ask her if she could actually stay and write down the reading this time. She then gives me a mean look and tells me to run downstairs to the control desk and tell them to warn me. Oh yeah, and she gives me 2 minutes. I run downstairs, the Marine from outside is there and he just laughs and sends me back. I run back and she immediately hooks me back up in record time and takes my blood pressure again. 150 something over a high 80. Fuck. She writes Elevated BP in my packet and smiles at me like the bitch she is. I know deep inside she has just fucked me.
I catch up with everyone else and have my blood drawn and do a urinalysis and sit down with a doctor to go over my medical history. I'm a GO at every station. Next is the physical. 8 of us go into a room and strip down to our underwear and are weighed. I'm overweight of course and have to be taped. I pass. I then go into a room with a doctor and he makes sure everything works and touches my balls. Yay.
He then sits down and looks through my packet. I had basically forgotten about the blood pressure bullshit but it was still in my packet unfortunately. He then informs me that I'm disqualified because of my blood pressure. He asked me if I was just nervous or something and I told him about the whole ordeal with that woman and he sighed and said there was nothing he could do. He wrote me a note to take to my doctor and said that all I would have to do is get 3 good (under 140 over 90) blood pressure readings from a private physician and then return to MEPS with a note saying I was good to go. Fucking great. Im glad thats ALL I have to do.
I walk out of his room and put my clothes back on and catch up with everyone. If I hadnt been disqualified this is the part where I would go into the Army office and pick my job, then go swear in and go home. But why the fuck would that happen. I go into the Army office and inform a guy wearing an ACU that I've been DQ'd for blood pressure. Hes really professional about it and tells me that it happens all the time and says the same shit the doctor did. He then takes my packet and has me go down to finger printing so that when I return I wont have any more bullshit to go through and I can just get in and out.
I go down to finger printing and the most friendly lady I met all day at the MEPS goes through my FBI file and just verifies my social security number and and address and such. She then takes me to the finger printing machine and asks if I have any dirt or poop on my fingers. I laugh and we get my finger prints in. I wonder to myself why everyone else at the MEPS can't be cool like her and then meet up with my recruiter who was pretty pissed. I'm not sure if it was at me or at the lady who FUCKED me over. But he was pissed nonetheless. He looked for a loophole but there wasnt one. Another guy who had come down with Sgt. Stevens got a job and $30,000 in bonuses. Nice. Did I mentioned that since I got fucked by that lady I lost my $20,000 bonus? Well I did. Anyway.
We head back home and I get to sit in the oven, I mean the back seat of my recruiters car and get extremely car sick. I managed keep that shitty sub sandwich from the MEPS in my stomach and finally got home. It seemed surreal, like I wasn't really there. I was just really tired I guess. I collapsed on my bed and put every curse in the book on that woman who fucked me over before passing out. FUCK MEPS.
To the MEPS
I wake up at about 10 AM and remember that I'm going to the MEPS that day at 11 AM or so. Shit. I bust my ass to get ready and Sgt. Stevens arrives an hour and a half late at 12:30 PM. Whatever. We go back to the recruiters office and I take a piss test to make sure I havnt been dropping acid or eating magic brownies lately. We're sitting in the office and some ancient guy walks in and asks if theres anyone going to MEPS today. Sgt. Stevens wishes me good luck and I walk outside and see that the "bus" is actually just one of those damn church vans with like 5 rows of seats. Fucking great.
So I get in and nobody else is on the "bus" yet. I pick a seat in the back so I don't have to talk to the old guy on our 2 hour trip to Nashville and make sure that I worry myself to death. It turns out this old turd drives like a bat out of hell, screaching our fat ass van out of the parking lot and nearly getting us hit by an 18 wheeler. FUCKING GREAT. We take a little trip in the wrong direction and stop at a Waffle House. The son of a bitch driving informs me that we'll be here for about 15 minutes and turns the van off and heads in leaving me inside the oven, I mean van.
30 minutes later he comes back out and we head off in the correct direction this time. We stop at another recruiting station and pick up two more guys. One of them looks like your average former high school soccer player, the other looks like Beethoven. I never knew either of their names so I'll just refer to them as Zidane and Beethoven. As we're motoring along Zidane turns around and asks me if this is my first time to MEPS. I tell him yes and he informs me that its "going to suck." The usual I guess. He then lets me know that if I get the doctor with the white hair, hes going to tell me to bend over and spread my asscheeks and touch my asshole. Fucking great.
Our conversation ends there and then Beethoven chimes in with some bullshit about how the semi next to us "must have hooked up his trailer lights wrong because the second trailer doesn't appear to be applying its break lights at all even though the first trailer is and blahblahblahblahblah." Oh yeah, and "blahblahblah" Zidane glances up into the drivers rear view mirror rolls his eyes at me. I laugh. Beethoven then begins to make himself sound like a general know it all and a wontshutthefuckupitall for the entire trip to Nashville. After arriving in Nashville we got off the van at a place that didn't look anything like a hotel. That's because it wasn't, it was the MEPS. The driver tells us to just hang out and listen for the page over the PA system calling for people going to the hotel. He said it should be about 20 minutes.
3 FUCKING hours later, another garbled message comes over the shitty PA system and I hear the word hotel. We all go to the front of the building and theres 3 buses there. I board the bus that I rode in on and the driver makes sure that everyone is going to "Atkins." Fucking great. I tell him no and bust my ass getting off and get onto the van going to the hotel. Theres one seat left next to a super fox and I sit down nex to her. Of course she makes a weird face when we meet eyes and looks the other direction and any chance of this trip being enjoyable goes right out the window.
We arrive at the most awesome looking hotel I've seen. Really. This place must be a 4 or 5 star. Hell yeah motherfucker. We all walk in and take a seat and wait for some guy to give us a briefing. Eventually the guy who told us to have a seat gets up and asks for all of the people who are shipping out to basic the next day. He gives them the run down, their keycards and they all fuck off. He then asks for all of the people who are going to the MEPs for the first time. The 3 of us that are left walk over to him. Me, some guy who looks like he just got out of the NFL, and a kid who appears to have downs syndrome. He basically tells us if we go on the wrong floor or leave the hotel he will fuck us up. Whatever. He gives us our cards and we start walking down the hallway. I find out on the elevator that the kid with downs syndrome is going to be an Infantryman too. Sweet, I'm in good company I guess. Fucking great.
So we begin walking down the hall to our rooms and the NFL dude and me end up at the same door. I sigh inside and ask him if hes staying in 404 too. An obvious yes comes and we both go in. I pretty much do everything in my power not to piss this guy off and we go to dinner and sit together. I find out that hes actually just switching from the Active Army to the National Guard. Cool. I tell him im trying to get in as an Infantryman and he looks at me like im a fucking retard and then asks me if I'm a fucking retard. I don't remember what I said next but it didn't help. Anyway, we head back up to our room and he grabs the remote and turns to Family Guy or some shit. We never really talked much after that and at midnight I looked over and he was asleep. I attempt to do the same but it doesnt work. I eventually dozed off around 1 or 2 AM and then our lovely phone rings at 4:15 AM.
We both get up and do our thing and head down for breakfast. At breakfast I find out that the kid with downs syndrome basically pissed off about 20 guys last night and told them all about shrimping (yes im serious) and they now call him DD for some reason.
So I get in and nobody else is on the "bus" yet. I pick a seat in the back so I don't have to talk to the old guy on our 2 hour trip to Nashville and make sure that I worry myself to death. It turns out this old turd drives like a bat out of hell, screaching our fat ass van out of the parking lot and nearly getting us hit by an 18 wheeler. FUCKING GREAT. We take a little trip in the wrong direction and stop at a Waffle House. The son of a bitch driving informs me that we'll be here for about 15 minutes and turns the van off and heads in leaving me inside the oven, I mean van.
30 minutes later he comes back out and we head off in the correct direction this time. We stop at another recruiting station and pick up two more guys. One of them looks like your average former high school soccer player, the other looks like Beethoven. I never knew either of their names so I'll just refer to them as Zidane and Beethoven. As we're motoring along Zidane turns around and asks me if this is my first time to MEPS. I tell him yes and he informs me that its "going to suck." The usual I guess. He then lets me know that if I get the doctor with the white hair, hes going to tell me to bend over and spread my asscheeks and touch my asshole. Fucking great.
Our conversation ends there and then Beethoven chimes in with some bullshit about how the semi next to us "must have hooked up his trailer lights wrong because the second trailer doesn't appear to be applying its break lights at all even though the first trailer is and blahblahblahblahblah." Oh yeah, and "blahblahblah" Zidane glances up into the drivers rear view mirror rolls his eyes at me. I laugh. Beethoven then begins to make himself sound like a general know it all and a wontshutthefuckupitall for the entire trip to Nashville. After arriving in Nashville we got off the van at a place that didn't look anything like a hotel. That's because it wasn't, it was the MEPS. The driver tells us to just hang out and listen for the page over the PA system calling for people going to the hotel. He said it should be about 20 minutes.
3 FUCKING hours later, another garbled message comes over the shitty PA system and I hear the word hotel. We all go to the front of the building and theres 3 buses there. I board the bus that I rode in on and the driver makes sure that everyone is going to "Atkins." Fucking great. I tell him no and bust my ass getting off and get onto the van going to the hotel. Theres one seat left next to a super fox and I sit down nex to her. Of course she makes a weird face when we meet eyes and looks the other direction and any chance of this trip being enjoyable goes right out the window.
We arrive at the most awesome looking hotel I've seen. Really. This place must be a 4 or 5 star. Hell yeah motherfucker. We all walk in and take a seat and wait for some guy to give us a briefing. Eventually the guy who told us to have a seat gets up and asks for all of the people who are shipping out to basic the next day. He gives them the run down, their keycards and they all fuck off. He then asks for all of the people who are going to the MEPs for the first time. The 3 of us that are left walk over to him. Me, some guy who looks like he just got out of the NFL, and a kid who appears to have downs syndrome. He basically tells us if we go on the wrong floor or leave the hotel he will fuck us up. Whatever. He gives us our cards and we start walking down the hallway. I find out on the elevator that the kid with downs syndrome is going to be an Infantryman too. Sweet, I'm in good company I guess. Fucking great.
So we begin walking down the hall to our rooms and the NFL dude and me end up at the same door. I sigh inside and ask him if hes staying in 404 too. An obvious yes comes and we both go in. I pretty much do everything in my power not to piss this guy off and we go to dinner and sit together. I find out that hes actually just switching from the Active Army to the National Guard. Cool. I tell him im trying to get in as an Infantryman and he looks at me like im a fucking retard and then asks me if I'm a fucking retard. I don't remember what I said next but it didn't help. Anyway, we head back up to our room and he grabs the remote and turns to Family Guy or some shit. We never really talked much after that and at midnight I looked over and he was asleep. I attempt to do the same but it doesnt work. I eventually dozed off around 1 or 2 AM and then our lovely phone rings at 4:15 AM.
We both get up and do our thing and head down for breakfast. At breakfast I find out that the kid with downs syndrome basically pissed off about 20 guys last night and told them all about shrimping (yes im serious) and they now call him DD for some reason.
My first taste of Army bullshit
So I went back to the recruiting Office and turned in all of the paperwork that Sgt. Rice had given me. She entered a shit load of info into the computer and had my mom sign the parental consent form since I'm under 18. Blah blah blah, I left and Sgt. Rice told me she would call me in a day or two to tell me when I would be going to MEPS. MEPS is the place where you basically do all of the shit that determines whether or not you can join the military and exactly what it is you're going to be doing in the military and for how long.
I get a call that night at about 9 PM and a man named Sgt. Stevens, (name changed again) who I've never heard of and never seen at the recruiters office, tells me that Sgt. Rice has "other things to do" and he's going to be handling me now. Fucking great. So he comes by the next day and picks me up and basically does a bunch of shit that Sgt. Rice has already done. We get all of my shit in the computer, again, and send it to some magical place and he tells me I'll be going to MEPS in 3 days. Cue more worrying. He tells me the MEPS experience will be something like this.
-Arrive at Hotel
-Spend the night with someone you don't know and will never see again
-Wake up before the fucking sun even takes its middle of the night piss
-Go to the MEPS
-Do a bunch of shit for about 9 hours or so
-Come home with some shit job that you had no intentions of doing when you walked in
I get a call that night at about 9 PM and a man named Sgt. Stevens, (name changed again) who I've never heard of and never seen at the recruiters office, tells me that Sgt. Rice has "other things to do" and he's going to be handling me now. Fucking great. So he comes by the next day and picks me up and basically does a bunch of shit that Sgt. Rice has already done. We get all of my shit in the computer, again, and send it to some magical place and he tells me I'll be going to MEPS in 3 days. Cue more worrying. He tells me the MEPS experience will be something like this.
-Arrive at Hotel
-Spend the night with someone you don't know and will never see again
-Wake up before the fucking sun even takes its middle of the night piss
-Go to the MEPS
-Do a bunch of shit for about 9 hours or so
-Come home with some shit job that you had no intentions of doing when you walked in
The Journey Begins
What a shitty title. Anyway. So my mommy called me and informed me that she had set us up an appointment to see Sgt. Rice (name has been changed, obvious reasons) at the recruiters office on Monday. "Fucking great" I thought to myself. I was angry, nervous, excited and fearful all at the same time. What will she be like? What happens next? Whatever. This was all about 3 days before the appointment was actually scheduled, so I had plenty of time to shit bricks and worry my ass off.
So Monday rolls around and my mom, sister and I all get into the shit wagon and motor down to the recruiters officer. We walk in and discover that there are 10 (ten) recruiters in this tiny room all with a desk and computer to their own. Wow, I guess the Army isnt really as hard pressed for recruits as they make it sound, or they just cant figure out what to do with these people. Anyway. We find Sgt. Rice among the crowd, a short, semi fat black lady. As soon as my ass hit that chair with "Army" stitched into the back of the seat, I had 10 recruiters breathing down my neck asking me what I wanted to be.
"Infantry" I said, sounding like a little girl seconds before a back alley rape. They all laughed, again with the light heartedness. All except for one who gave me a "Hooah". Obviously the Infantryman of the bunch. Everyone went back to their desks to do shit that had nothing to do with recruiting and Sgt. Rice got to work on me. Basically I went away that day with a shit load of packets and forms to be signed at home. Oh yeah, and I was to report to the National Guard armory in 2 days to take the ASVAB. Again, fucking great.
Sgt. Rice gave me a pamplet that had every job the Army had to offer. She told me to circle 10 jobs that looked interesting to me and come back after I had taken the ASVAB and she had received my scores. I sat down that night with that dumbass pamplet and my new "Army Strong" pen and circled 3 jobs. Infantryman, Explosives Ordnance Disposale, Combat Engineer. Great, 7 more to go. I ended up circling something else like M1 Crewman and then just circled Infantryman another 6 times. Whatever, theres no way I'm going to be a goddamn Radio Repairman or the other 39841 jobs they had that just replaced Radio with some other piece of equipment.
I was sort of pissed that I basically only had two days to study for the ASVAB. One if you count the fact that I didnt even study on one of the days. I ended up scoring a 53 for my AFQT. Yay I'm fucking retarded. The test actually wasnt all that difficult and from the way I understand it, a 53 means that I scored better than 53% of the people who took the test for the Department of WhatTheFuckEver back in 2004 or something like that. So I'm not that retarded after all, I guess. The part that really counts are the "line" scores which basically are just a bunch of different parts of the test that they divide up and put into categories like General Technical and Combat and Verbal Expressions and WhoReallyGivesAFuck. According to Sgt. Rice my line scores were all over 100 so in your face everyone who doubted my non-retardedness.
So Monday rolls around and my mom, sister and I all get into the shit wagon and motor down to the recruiters officer. We walk in and discover that there are 10 (ten) recruiters in this tiny room all with a desk and computer to their own. Wow, I guess the Army isnt really as hard pressed for recruits as they make it sound, or they just cant figure out what to do with these people. Anyway. We find Sgt. Rice among the crowd, a short, semi fat black lady. As soon as my ass hit that chair with "Army" stitched into the back of the seat, I had 10 recruiters breathing down my neck asking me what I wanted to be.
"Infantry" I said, sounding like a little girl seconds before a back alley rape. They all laughed, again with the light heartedness. All except for one who gave me a "Hooah". Obviously the Infantryman of the bunch. Everyone went back to their desks to do shit that had nothing to do with recruiting and Sgt. Rice got to work on me. Basically I went away that day with a shit load of packets and forms to be signed at home. Oh yeah, and I was to report to the National Guard armory in 2 days to take the ASVAB. Again, fucking great.
Sgt. Rice gave me a pamplet that had every job the Army had to offer. She told me to circle 10 jobs that looked interesting to me and come back after I had taken the ASVAB and she had received my scores. I sat down that night with that dumbass pamplet and my new "Army Strong" pen and circled 3 jobs. Infantryman, Explosives Ordnance Disposale, Combat Engineer. Great, 7 more to go. I ended up circling something else like M1 Crewman and then just circled Infantryman another 6 times. Whatever, theres no way I'm going to be a goddamn Radio Repairman or the other 39841 jobs they had that just replaced Radio with some other piece of equipment.
I was sort of pissed that I basically only had two days to study for the ASVAB. One if you count the fact that I didnt even study on one of the days. I ended up scoring a 53 for my AFQT. Yay I'm fucking retarded. The test actually wasnt all that difficult and from the way I understand it, a 53 means that I scored better than 53% of the people who took the test for the Department of WhatTheFuckEver back in 2004 or something like that. So I'm not that retarded after all, I guess. The part that really counts are the "line" scores which basically are just a bunch of different parts of the test that they divide up and put into categories like General Technical and Combat and Verbal Expressions and WhoReallyGivesAFuck. According to Sgt. Rice my line scores were all over 100 so in your face everyone who doubted my non-retardedness.
In the beginning...I grew a pair.
"Are you serious? *laugh* To do what?"
The answer to that phrase..."I'm joining the Army." I've never understood why most people respond so light heartedly to something so serious. But then again, what else can you say. Especially considering the current situation America has itself wrapped up in.
"WHAT?!? Why!?"
The answer to that response. "Infantry." Why Infantry? What could possibly make me want to join the Infantry? The honest answer? I don't know. I really don't. I've sat up night after night trying to come up with a reason as to why I would put myself into, arguably, the most dangerous job the US Military has to offer. To server my country? No. The money? No. To travel? No. The excitement? Sort of, but no. When I was researching the Army and looking through all of the MOS's (jobs) they have to offer, nothing gave me that little charge deep inside like 11X - Infantryman did. As cheesy and gay and retarded as it sounds, it just feels like I have to do it. I have to try.
Not really sure why I'm making a blog either. I read most blogs and think to myself, "Wow this is really fucking boring and stupid." but I suppose you have to talk to somebody about your feelings, even if its just a stupid website.
The answer to that phrase..."I'm joining the Army." I've never understood why most people respond so light heartedly to something so serious. But then again, what else can you say. Especially considering the current situation America has itself wrapped up in.
"WHAT?!? Why!?"
The answer to that response. "Infantry." Why Infantry? What could possibly make me want to join the Infantry? The honest answer? I don't know. I really don't. I've sat up night after night trying to come up with a reason as to why I would put myself into, arguably, the most dangerous job the US Military has to offer. To server my country? No. The money? No. To travel? No. The excitement? Sort of, but no. When I was researching the Army and looking through all of the MOS's (jobs) they have to offer, nothing gave me that little charge deep inside like 11X - Infantryman did. As cheesy and gay and retarded as it sounds, it just feels like I have to do it. I have to try.
Not really sure why I'm making a blog either. I read most blogs and think to myself, "Wow this is really fucking boring and stupid." but I suppose you have to talk to somebody about your feelings, even if its just a stupid website.
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