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.