Couple hours free time in morning.
Spent it straightening locker and
polishing boots. What a fucking
way to live. 6-1/2 hours sleep--WOW.
More D & C [drill and ceremony]. Got burned with people
fucking up a "count off" movement.
I think I was the only on in
the platoon to get it right.
Dogged more than I expected for
a Sunday. Getting burned on arms
and neck. Feet feeling better.
Went to PX--got bigger underwear
and bandaids for feet. Had to
run 1/4+ miles flat out in boots
for a few minutes on phone.
I would have run across glass if
necessary. Talked to [fiance]
for far too short a time.
Up late doing laundry. Will
probably get 5 hours sleep
for tomorrow. Will start another
letter tonight for [fiance].
I don't get picked on--I think
sergeants know I'm here to
serve, not coast. Still tough.
Running tomorrow--shit.
I don't think training will fundamentally
change me. [Fiance] will be glad of
that.
So this was a Sunday in basic. Free time was a chance to clean up. Time for that was so short that most of us slept on top of our made beds at night. It was hot so it was no problem. And by doing that all you had to do was make the blankets taut again rather than need the time to do all the hospital corners. Yeah, hospital corners. You think we got issued fitted sheets? Wrong answer.
Despite the mickey mouse stuff like drill and ceremony, I will say that there were only two things the Army really seemed to care about--getting in shape and learning to shoot your rifle. Oh, they tried to pound in lots of other stuff. But those two things were the only things you couldn't skate by on, in the end.
And the Army wasn't big on sun screen usage even though they were really good on water discipline. They were always on us to hydrate.
I have no idea why I needed bigger underwear. I didn't gain weight in basic. Indeed, I dont' think I lost weight, either. Just readjusted it a bit. I assume the Army issued me too-small underwear.
Also, the isolation was weird. We were in our own world with no television and no newspapers. And phone contact was rare. For a news junkie, this was occasionally annoying. For everyone, doing what you had to get a few minutes on a pay phone was a big deal. I don't know how trainees addicted to social media handle the isolation.
This journal entry reminds me that we were given a marketing survey about why we joined. Of all the questions, only a couple focused on service to country. I found that odd even though I knew most join for money or training. Not that this made any of us mercenaries as our more liberal brethren like to say. The basic patriotism comes in by thinking of the military as an honorable and good option for training, education, and money. How many who also need training, education, or money would never even think for a moment about joining the military?
And I'll admit that when the drill sergeants had us write an essay about why we joined (a writing assignment in basic? ka-ching!), I started with basic duty as a citizen but ended up going off on a rant on how Vietnam veterans were treated like dirt on returning home.
Finally, I was surprised to see the part about my fiance worrying that the Army would change me. I'd forgotten that. Funny enough, as our marriage collapsed around me, she would tell me that the Army changed me from an easy-going guy to a hard and cold man. I always thought that was a silly accusation.
What changed me was the transition from boyfriend to husband and the burden of responsibility that was placed on my shoulders. However liberal my wife was, deep down she expected me to be the breadwinner and I felt that expectation heavily as a history major only half way through my master's program when we married.
I'd forgotten that she'd worried about that change from the beginning and suspect it was a self-fulfilling change that she saw rather than a real change in me.
Or maybe I am a cold, hard, killing machine so distanced from any source of internal warmth that I can't see how robotic I truly am.
