Money orders today.
Rode to range instead of marching
because big brass to visit us.
Never even saw them. BRM
final practice. 19 and 24.
Not very good. Don't know
what the problem is. Last thing
I expected to be a problem.
Weaponeer training tonight
for me. I'd better qualify
tomorrow. If only to get
a phone call. Must pass
BRM to graduate. 8-mile
road march back. My feet
hurt. back hurts a little.
Sick call Friday for me.
Ate MREs for dinner. Not
too bad actually, but then
I was starving after the march.
Slower pace than before. Wet
bulb, too. Very thirsty.
By the way, DIs do swear
contrary to what I thought
before coming here. I kept
meaning to write it down
but never did. After BRM
it will be easier.
Lord let me pass BRM.
I really need to pass.
Ah, I guess I had the opportunity to get money orders to mail home. I remember explicitly doing that in Advanced Individual Training the next summer but didn't recall what I did this summer.
Basic rifle marksmanship was still the main focus. I remained on the bubble for testing standards. As I've mentioned, this is one of the things you must get right to graduate. I remained puzzled that I was not doing better. Weaponeer training was a mechanical training aid that helped determine if you had the proper form for shooting. Drill sergeant reviewed me on it and concluded I was doing it right.
I just wasn't knocking down enough targets.
Once again, I resolved to go on sick call to see if there was something to be done about my feet and back. But apparently I had BRM to worry about so wasn't focused on the injuries.
We must have gotten back from the range too late for mess hall, and so they parked us on the sidewalk outside the barracks and passed out MREs. It was almost like a picnic. I assume I did not draw the infamous dehydrated pork patty, although I bet that would have tasted delicious, too.
Wet bulb was a measurement of humidity and temperature and if it exceeded a certain level we weren't supposed to do strenuous exercise outdoors. They'd set us down somewhere in the shade and wait until the index dropped. Then resume training.
I don't know if it was this day, but on one day when we were parked for wet bulb, I fell asleep while sitting there listening to the drill sergeant. That was the risk when you did not keep very tired troops moving. I was sitting there listening when all of a sudden Sergeant [Delta] was looking at me angrily and telling me not to do that again. "Yes, sergeant," I replied in thorough agreement that I would not do "that" again. When the sergeant's attention went back to the entire platoon, I whispered to the troop next to me, "What did I do?" He replied, "You fell asleep!" Oh ...
Actually, that was the second time I'd fallen asleep in basic training. There was another time when we were indoors in a lecture and I was pretty close to the front where some officer was instructing us on something important, I'm sure. At some point, I became aware that the officer was pointing straight at me. So I jumped to attention. "Sir!" I called out loudly. I quickly ascertained that he'd asked me a question although I had no idea what it was. I knew the topic of the lecture and so started a fairly vague response that I hoped had a decent chance of being close enough to the question. I was half way through grad school,so I could BS if I had to. I was apparently close enough because that prompted the officer to re-state the question which I then answered. I sat down again without being busted. Close call.
Oh, and drill sergeants swear. They can't call you a blankety blanked worthless blank of a blanked blank who blanks blanks, but they get their point across even though they can't define you as that complex curse that they let loose. You got used to it. On the bright side, they couldn't beat the blank out of you the way drill sergeants used to. The drill sergeants did mention, almost wistfully, that if it was war time all those limits would be gone. This was the Cold War so they meant World War III total war conditions.
