The Warfighter, the Storm, and the Moon

Chapter 38: Boot

"Okay... so why do you wanna go all Gunny Hartman on 'em, sir?" Vader asked, sounding even more confused, albeit intrigued. "And what kinda organization is this?"

"It's a... personal development coaching institution with its roots in Ancient Rome."

"... the fuck?"

"Yeah, I know. It's weird."

"But why the bootcamp info, Sharky?"

"Just humor me, Vader."

"Okay then. Well... there were four phases in total. First was the basics: after Black Friday—when the DIs introduced themselves and IT'd (incentive training) the fuck outta us—physical fitness, CQC, Marine Corps basic info, and whatnot. Second phase was some team building and firewatch, along with some exams. Third phase was field ops training, rifle marksmanship, and some humps... three, five, and eight-milers, I think. Lastly was the gas chamber, Crucible—effectively a Marine's final exam—preparation for integrating into the Fleet Marine Force, and graduation. Basically had a bit of a crawl, walk, run approach, just... louder and kinda scary."

"What were the DIs like?"

"Best way I could describe it is that you oughta take your toughest RDC and multiply that intensity by three, 'cause those DIs were on some shit, I swear. They were basically disciplined Florida Men. Hell, I remember some of the females being even more batshit insane somehow. Either way, we got the piss smoked outta us... every... single... day," Vader groaned, sounding as though he was experiencing a traumatic flashback.

"So what, the DIs were just hardasses all the time?" I asked.

"Well... just about, yeah. Their task was to break us down and build us back up into Marines... but we saw their humanity from time to time, I'll tell you that. Hell, one recruit was an orphan, had no family to send him mail or even care about him. Then one day, he starts getting letters from some random old ladies and gents. Turns out they were fellow churchgoers of our DI, who learned about the orphan recruit and decided to send him some motivation—courtesy of the US Postal Service. Few of those old guys were Marines themselves, and really helped that guy out. He ended up being one of the best recruits in my platoon after that. Shoot, I didn't learn about the DI's involvement until a year later, when one NCO I met—another DI at the time—told me the story," Vader explained.

"Aww, you Devil Dogs are big ole softies under all that monster, huh?" I teased.

"I honestly can't believe some people actually thought that we had to kill a family member to earn our EGA (eagle, globe, and anchor). Hell, I remember once meeting a Japanese guy during a JCET and he asked me if that was true... now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have said 'yes...'"

"... damn, Vader."

"If that dude's a rock, then everyone he knows and their mothers think the Marines are a buncha murderous psychopaths."

"Back to bootcamp, though..." I said, bringing us back on topic. "It's different phases throughout the training to build 'em up. Do the DIs change any?"

"Boss, the only way the DIs change is in what they're instructing us on. In my experience, they didn't ease up and never missed a chance to IT the fuck outta us," Vader chuckled. "They wanna turn us into Marines—into hard-as-nails motherfuckers, so... 'bout the only peace we got was when we slept, and even then we could be in for some shit. They do care in their own way: inspiring, educating, and motivating—maybe not the best way in the fleet, but in a way that's necessary with a fresh set of boots. And they always led by example."

"Interesting..."

We kept talking for about an hour more, going into every intricacy of Marine bootcamp possible. After that, I bade him good night and sat back in my chair, thinking. I already had the next day planned out—with the cadre all aware of what they needed to be doing—and now had to develop a crawl-walk-run plan for the following weeks.