EPTedit - feel free to ask any questions you are interested in, or feel I may have left out. Because I am leaving out quite a bit.
Let me start by saying that I miss you guys. Its been far too long. I just returned to home port Yokosuka, Japan after another 35 day underway, visiting Guam, Singapore, Philippines and Pusan in the process.
I have been in the Navy for a little over 19 months. By no means am I a veteran and by no means have my experiences come to an end. However I feel that I may find some interest in my story. If nothing else I will have it for myself to go back later and revisit a previous time in my life.
Before I begin I will start with a disclaimer stating that this may be long. It will be an attempt at a complete and accurate account of my experiences and my time in the Navy so far. I will use an excerpt from a previous experience about boot camp, as my memory was better when I wrote it.
Let me begin from the beginning. I joined the Navy April 7th 2009. Those 19 months went by with what at times seemed like such a blazing speed, and at times the days dragged on as if my life would never move forward.
I arrived at the meps(millitary entry processing station) hotel with my fiancé, and after a long night of talking, attempted to sleep. I didn’t get too much sleep, but I was pumped and ready to go so 2 hours of sleep wasn’t touching me. I woke up at 5am, and after a long half day at meps got on the MAX train(portland public transit and went to the airport.
My fiance got a clearance to go through security so I waited with her for a while. The waiting to leave her was one of the most amazing yet agonizing times of my life. Trying to savor every last second with the only woman who I can honestly say I have loved in my life, while the entire scene is overshadowed with the realization that neither of us may see each other again for a long time.
When it was time to board the plane I remember looking back at her standing behind me in her white sundress, tears in her eyes, and I began fighting the urge to turn around and not get on that plane. But I got on anyways.
After a 6 hour flight, we arrive at O'hara at around 8-9 pm and gather up to wait for the bus. Once the bus gets here we all pile on (4 busses worth of recruits), and head over to boot camp. As soon as we step off that bus it begins.
Every person is screaming, cursing, and doing everything they can to scare, confuse, and disorient you. We run through processing, getting our clothes and shoes and toiletries and such, then we wait. And we wait. And we do some paper work. And we wait. All the while getting screamed at. So, around 36 hours later we finally head up to our temporary baracks with our division and sleep.
The next morning we are awoken to the sound of screaming as our 3 RDCs (Recruit Division Commanders) head in for 'morning routine' and begin to rip us all a new one. Now let me tell you this isn’t just any screaming. We are awoken to the sound of TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, and so on. We have 10 seconds to get up, put on socks and shoes, and get on the toe line.
Now needless to say not everyone made it the first day, and so after those individuals had their own verbal abuse, the RDCs proceeded to beat the living crap out of us for the next hour. Nothing like looking down at your reflection in a giant pool of sweat first thing in the morning.
Because of our hour beating we had no time to hygiene. Now at this point we had all gone close to 3 days without showering or brushing our teeth. Not fun, but MEH. So after our beating we head down to breakfast. 12 minutes of relaxation. But at the time we were all so on edge that there was no way anyone was relaxing.
The next 7 days consist of what is called Processing, or P-days. 7 days of hell. I won’t go into detail on them but let me just say I would find it hard to imagine how they could make it worse short of physical abuse. We had 6 people in our division leave during this time (most of them got medical discharges for depression).
Next week we begin 1-1 day. HORRAYZ, REAL BOOT CAMP! But we aren't quite out of the woods yet. Now that real boot camp has begun we are faced with more responsibilities and rules, and new ways of screwing up and getting ourselves in trouble. One example of this is marching. Marching in boot camp during your first week is chaos.
We are expected to keep our intervals of a half arms length, while staying in step with AROCs (the recruit who does cadence) shitty cadence, and avoiding stepping on each other’s heels. In theory it sounds easy, but when you throw in 75 people, it becomes a mess.
At this point however, I didn't need to worry about this aspect of marching. I had a much more difficult task. Sometime around day 3 or 4, my chief had fired his initial RPOC (Recruit chief petty officer), and made me the new one. Now let me explain to you what RPOC is/does. RPOC is the leader of the group. When the RDCs are not around, RPOC is the 4th RDC.
I was in charge of everyone and everything. And to make things worse, we had not yet picked out many of the essential jobs that help support the rpoc, like master at arms, yeoman, section leaders, and starboard and port watch leaders. We had none of these. So not only was I doing my job, but I was doing the job of these people as well.
Now in theory this might sound fun to be able to boss around a division of 75+ people. But let me tell you, there is nothing more stressful than being RPOC during the first few weeks of boot camp. While everyone is so busy worrying about making sure they are doing the right thing, RPOC is worried about making sure they all do the right thing too. However I was also worrying about making sure that I was doing the right thing. It was intense at times.
Now I am sure you have all heard the expression shit rolls down hill. Well in boot camp, shit rolls up hill. If anyone fucks up who is underneath you, it’s your ass. Unfortunately for the RPOC, everyone in the division is underneath you. So no matter what happens, at any time, any place, anywhere, if ANything goes wrong, its RPOCs fault. At least that was my chief’s view.
The other big task that RPOC has is when we march. I stand off to the side of the division and make commands. Sounds easy enough, but things can get quite interesting. There is quite a bit of construction happening at RTC Great Lakes, and so getting people to hear you over 18 pieces of construction equipment can get interesting. My voice was almost constantly sore and after a few weeks I started to sound like Robert deniro from men of honor.
So I stumble through that for a few weeks, and things start to improve. We all are starting to get some idea of whats going on. I have always picked up things quickly, so by this time I was having no problems. Boot camp was running smoothly, I was leading my division with pride, and my chief was getting increasingly pleased with me.
Then came week 4. I woke up in the middle of the night and immediatly knew I was about to vomit. I run to the head(bathroom) and cant even make it to the toilet, so I vomit in the sink. After this I feel better, and head back to sleep. However that wasnt the end. 5 more times that night I made similar trips, all ending the same way. I woke up the next morning feeling like my stomach was swirling around my insides. I went to medical and got SIQ (Sick in quarters).
My chief didnt like this. Being sick is a weakness apparently, and so he was quite unhappy with me at this point. But I delt with it, and I was ok. The next morning I woke up and was told by my petty officer I had to go down and eat chow. The issue was, I felt like if I stood up I was going to throw up.
But regardless I head down to the galley with my division, and as im standing in line, I start to feel another one coming. I begin to make a run for the bathroom, but as soon as I start to run I begin to feel dizzy and light headed. Next thing I know I am lying on the floor of the hallway with the officer of the deck standing over me screaming "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY P-WAY(hallway)" as he kicks me. I told him I didnt know if I could get up, and he said either I had to get up and walk the fuck away or he was calling an ambulance.
So I slide myself up the wall and somehow make it to my feet. Let me tell you, I never thought it would be that difficult to get to my feet. I took 5 steps, turned into the bathroom and passed out again. Luckily he didnt follow me into the bathroom and I was awoken by another recruit. However when I returned, I realized that the officer of the deck had contacted my chief, and apparently the story that chief was told was that I was sleeping in the P-way.
Yes, apparently both men had decided that I layed down in the hallway of a millitary base and decided to take a quick nap. Anyways, chief never fired me, he never even talked to me for at least a week, but when I finally came to out of my haze of sickness, we had a new rpoc. But I didnt mind, infact I was quite relieved. I felt so good after that, like a huge weight was off my shoulders. In a way I wish I had graduated RPOC, but I cant help what happened.
I later found out from my chief, that the division had been victim to the swine flu, as was much of boot camp during this time period. I gotta say, I cant really think of a worse experience than marching across the base with a 104 degree fever, fighting every second to keep from passing out. I could have gone back to medical, however if I had, I would have been held back like the other 7 people in my division who went to medical. And that wasn’t an option at this point. I will explain this later.
The rest of boot camp was quite different. As things went on our RDCs went easier and easier on us, and there was something else that helped that process. We were good. Overall we scored a 4.76 out of 5 at the end of boot camp.
This is good enough for hall of fame, except for one mistake. During our first drill inspection (marching) we had 2 large issues called Street Hits. Both coming from our new RPOC (who wasnt new anymore at this time). Dont get me wrong im not talking crap about the guy im really good friends with him, and this really could have happened to anyone, was just terrible luck. Now let me start off by saying RPOC carrys around a cutlas when we march. That is his power. Without it uncased he cant make any commands to the division.
After we lined up in front of the inspector to get ready for our first drill inspection, rpoc had a brain fart, and forgot to uncase his cutlas before adressing the division. Bam, street hit. Just like that, we are down to a 4.85 at least. Not good. However we shake it off and keep going. Now unfortunatly thursdays are the days they mow the grass, and our drill inspection happened to be on a thursday.
We were coming onto a street we needed to cross, and cars were coming so our road guards couldnt post, so rpoc called a marktime march(march in place) over the sound of the lawn mowers. Sadly the front part of the division didnt hear him and kept marching straight forward, while the back stayed in place. Bam, 4.6. Already we had lost out chances of Hall of Fame. But lifes tough sometimes.
We still managed to be an honor division, and we made CNO GOLD(meaning the best division in our class, wich had 10 divisions). So in a way our bootcamp experience was made alot easier by us doing what we were supposed to do, and getting our shit done.
Eventually all things come to an end, and as hard as it was to believe during the fact, this was no exception to the rule.
Yes, boot camp was difficult. But the difficulty lies mainly in the challenge of adjusting to such a vastly different lifestyle almost instantly, one that none of us have had anything close to. It is quite simplistic in a sense, and after I was relieved as RPOC, I found the daily routine quite relaxing. There is something comforting knowing that you know exactly how tomorrow will go, down to the last detail.
Anyways, after boot camp came liberty weekend. Some people had their family fly in, some people went off by themselves. I had my fiancé fly in. Remember before I said that getting held back wasn’t an option. Well, my fiancé had already bought her ticket, and by the time I could have got word to her that I had been delayed, it would have been too late. At that point, I needed to see her.
I will touch for just a moment on a piece of boot camp that for me was more of a personal segment than a general view, and originally as I wrote that piece I was more interested in getting the general across. As I stated previously, I went into boot camp with a fiancé. Perhaps this was a somewhat short sighted decision, I don’t know. The best way I could look at it was a test. If we could survive the Navy, I cant imagine anything else that would ever break us apart.
During my first week of boot camp, I had a little talk about my situation with my chief. I had been told by my recruiter, that after we are married the Navy is obligated to station us within 60 miles of each other. So, she made the decision to join as well. What he didn’t tell us (that I learned from my chief in my first week of boot camp), was that this rule does not apply to couples serving their first term in the military. In other words, us.
This put me into a period of depression. Our plan had been busted by the long dick of the Navy. All I can do is say thank you recruiter, and then smack myself for not taking the time to research the information thoroughly myself. One of the things that my chief told me however, is that one way to possibly increase your chances to get stationed together is to have the same rate as her. So I devised a plan.
I was currently in an aviation rate called AW, or aviation warfare. I was going to be the guy in the back of the helo assisting the pilot. My other main job was to be a rescue swimmer. I was excited about this rate. What I did next I see as one of the biggest mistakes I have made since joining the navy.
One thing I knew about all aviation rates, is that depth perception was required. So, I told the detailer that I was having doubts about my depth perception. He gave me a test, I purposely failed, and he gave me the option to re pick my rate. I scored high enough on my ASVAB test that any rate option was available to me, so I had a long list to choose from. Included on that list was a rate called OS, or operations specialist. Operations specialists deal with many things. The main being information gathering and processing in relation to many different fields including anti-air warfare, anti-surface warfare, anti-sub warfare, navigation, ship to land, and many others. However, as an OS, you are an operator. You plot, use coms, operate consoles, you know, the keep your nails clean and skin pasty type of job. Not really my thing. It can be exiting some times, but if nothing is going on, it is 20 hours a day(yes, we work 20 hours a day quite often underway, avg around 17 I would say) of absolute tedium.
However this was all information that I really didn’t have time to process or think about at the time. I made a rash decision during a difficult time when I may have been not so mentally sound.
Originally when my chief had told me that the navy didn’t have to station us within 60 miles until our first 4 years had elapsed, I couldn’t think of what to do. I knew that a few members of my division had already been discharged medically due to depression. I knew I was depressed. I went as far as to go to medical and talk to a hospital corpsman (the enlisted ‘doctors’ who aren’t doctors). I told him I wasn’t eating or sleeping and I thought I was quite depressed. He told me that he would get me out. However, due to a streak of chance, the actual doctor who was on duty to evaluate people of such illnesses had left that day due to an emergency, so I was told to come back tomorrow.
That night I got my first letter from my fiancé. It told me that whatever I was going through, no matter how hard it might seem at the moment, don’t give up. So I didn’t. I went back the next day to visit the doctor and told him that I felt great. I talked to him for almost an hour, but eventually I managed to convince him that none of what I had said yesterday was true, and I was perfectly healthy and sane. But I will never remember how close I came to leaving the navy forever. I cant tell you where my life would be today if that is a choice I had made, but I can tell you that I am glad I didn’t leave.
During the graduation ceremony I remember looking out at the crowd of people in the audience trying to catch a glimpse of my fiancé. I couldn’t see her. But as soon as the ceremony ended and I heard “NOW HEAR THIS, NOW HEAR THIS. LIBERTY CALL, LIBERTY CALL.” I saw her long blonde hair running through the crowd towards me. I barreled trough the division knocking a few people out of my way and hugged her as tight as I could. At that moment I never wanted to let her out of my arms again. I can honestly say that to this day, seeing her running to me and being able to finally hold on to her was the happiest moment of my life. No comparison.
I wont go into too much detail on the weekend itself, but I think most of you can imagine how most of it went. When I walked away from her on the last day, it was hard. But I had hope. At that point I couldn’t imagine anything getting in our way.
A school started in a flurry. I arrived at my temporary barracks with 6 or 7 people from my boot camp division (3 of whom became some of the best friends I have ever had). Suddenly life had returned to some sense of normality. We were allowed possessions. Free time. And most importantly, booze. I wont say that our lives were unrestricted, but after being used to boot camp, it was amazing. (A whole closet to myself? WOW!)
One of the interesting things I noticed during the transition from boot camp to a school, was how grateful we all became of the simple things. The navy in general has taught me to be grateful for the simple pleasures, the every day wonders we all get to enjoy but simply take for granted due to their availability. I found that during hard times, often peoples true personalities come through. Some people shut themselves off, but many will act admirrally. This trend continued in a school. And let me tell you, I met some of most genuinely nicest people I have ever met in boot camp and a school. We were a family.
Now before I go any further I want to clarify a potentially confusing point. When I mention starting A school, what I mean is I arrived at the training command. My a school was far from beginning. Hold is a large factor in navy training of all kinds, and I had a good 2 months of hold time before beginning even my SCC (pre A school general training).
Details of a school are dimmed from my mind after over a year at sea, but I will give a general overview of life at Great Lakes, ILL training command.
Lets begin with hold. Hold was exactly how it sounds. You are on hold. You are waiting. Your life is in limbo. Hold consists of waking up every day for 0730 quarters, hearing QM1 Leer talk to you for 15 minutes about god knows what, and then beginning to ‘clean.’ Everyone got assignments, but I wasn’t such a big fan of that. I moved in a large group with the people I liked and knew, mainly targeting isolated ladder wells to hang out in all day, listen to music, and play around with friends. Not too bad. Around 1100 it was time for lunch. We headed off to various fast food resturaunts and pizza places, or my personal favorite, the base galley.
The base galley consisted of 5 lines, including Italian, Chinese, American, subs, and on hot summer days, an outside line of hamburgers. I loved it. It wasn’t the best food in the world, but it wasn’t bad, and it was free, and had quite a bit of options. Don’t want Chinese today? Go Italian and get spaghetti and some pizza! Don’t want pizza? Go outside and get a fresh burger, right off the grill. I sorely miss the base galley, even more so when compared to the ships galley. I will get into that more later.
After lunch it was time to screw around. We still ‘cleaned’ but most of the people in charge began to get impatient for the day to get over and thought mainly about what they would do with the rest of the day after work. At 1600, we mustered back up. Sometimes at that point they let us off. Sometimes we had something to do. We got out generally between 1630 and 1900. Sometimes later, but not often.
Now the most important factor. What we did after work. I have always been fairly big on working out, and A school was no exception. I dropped quite a bit of weight in boot camp (mostly muscle), but after a few months of a school I had gained it back. Most of the time we really didn’t have much to do besides work out, and the 3 guys I knew from boot camp had all been big on lifting previously. One of them was an ex college football star who was roided up all through high school and could put up 400 on a bench no problem. So needless to say, we worked out a lot. My first shopping trip in a school was a trip to GNC.
