Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 2: Burning Towers

My freshly shaven head was resting on my crossed arms as I sat on a chair behind a desk in the middle of an empty room. I’m so friggin’ tired, I thought as I sat there trying to catch a few minutes of sleep. What the hell have I gotten myself into? I probably should have thought this through a bit more before deciding to sign the dotted line. Oh well, time for a new adventure in life.

Just a few hours ago, I had been riding on a bus in the middle of the night. We crossed over a bridge and passed through a gate with a sign off to the side that read “Welcome to Parris Island.” Our bus pulled up to a stop in front of a brightly lit building just after midnight. Just outside the bus were hundreds of yellow footprints on the ground. The door to the bus opened. Here we go, I thought. I had seen it a hundred times in the movies and heard about this very moment from friends and family. Out of nowhere, a tall, muscular Marine dressed in a crisp tan shirt and green trousers stepped onto the bus. The minute he opened his mouth, he did nothing but scream at us at the top of his lungs. It was utter chaos as we all tried to follow his instructions and carry them out as fast as possible. As time went on and night turned to day, more drill instructors came out to yell at us and drive us mad.

Shortly after they gave us what they called breakfast, a frozen Jimmy Dean meal, we were taken to a receiving area where we had to fill out paperwork. The drill instructors had ordered us to sit at desks that reminded me of those we used back in high school. Once we were all seated, backs straight and eyes forward, they told us we were to put our heads down and lie there until our name was called. Since my last name started with a T, I lay there for what seemed like an eternity. The only thing that kept me sane was a television mounted on the wall blaring in the background. It gave me a sense of normalcy in all the chaos.

I must have had my head down for at least an hour before I heard a commotion coming from the television. I dared to look up, trying not to let the drill instructors see me. On the screen I saw a very familiar skyscraper with smoke spewing from its side. One of the drill instructors began to turn his head in my direction, so I quickly put my head back in my arms. Why did that tower look so familiar? I thought. And then it hit me. Having lived in the New York metropolitan area for most of my life, I had been to the top of that tower numerous times. It was one of the Twin Towers. But why the hell was it on fire? Before I could think of it further, my name was called. I stood up and made my way to into another room to fill out some paperwork.

As I was filling out some documents, I noticed that a lot of the active-duty Marines in the administrative office I was in were talking hurriedly but in hushed voices. I didn’t think much of it because I figured they were probably talking like that so we couldn’t hear anything.

After I answered a few questions that another Marine was asking me, I was taken into another room where the recruits were being held. None of us spoke, not because we didn’t want to talk but more out of fear of having the drill instructors come in and put us through hell again. Another thirty minutes passed, and a drill instructor finally entered the room.

“Recruits, get your asses up and make your way through the hatch to my right. Once you get into the room, stand at attention until I tell you to do otherwise,” yelled the drill instructor in a raspy voice. We slowly began to rise to our feet, but apparently it wasn’t fast enough.

“Oh, you want to play games. OK, good to go. Sit back down!” yelled the drill instructor, his Smokey the Bear hat bobbing as he yelled at us.

We began to sit on the ground. “OK, stand back up!” he yelled. I wasn’t even halfway into the sitting position, so I stopped myself and began standing up. We stood up and sat down about fifteen or twenty more times until the drill instructor figured we got the point.