More basic, the routine begins...

After the fiasco of my opening night jitters of Basic Training where I sighed at the Drill Sergeant, we were all ushered towards our Drill Sergeant’s office, which was conveniently located near my bunk! There he outlined his expectations and what to expect. I was still uneasy, but it wasn’t the constant yelling that I had seen in movies about Basic.

He knew that we were all from Nebraska. We were all to write our names, age, and leadership experience, if any.

The other Drill Sergeant, Knight, said not to write as he put it “Stupid shit.”

The first few days involved getting used to the routine. If called somewhere, we were to get there as fast as we can. You were to ‘move with a purpose’, which was not walking to at a leisurely stroll. Believe it or not, this would happen. We’d all be in our formation and someone or some people would stroll from upstairs towards the formation. This would quickly result in them getting “dropped” for push ups. Other times, we all were dropped as punishment.

In another surprise, the first week of Basic wasn’t the hardest. It was some of the easiest. We were taught the basics, which was marching, or Drill and Ceremony. We learned to line up in four columns next to one of our four squad leaders, who were chosen the first night. For several days, we marched to various hard surfaces to learn the ins and outs of Drill and Ceremony.

The routine went like this.

We woke up at 4:45 in the morning. Wake up wasn’t really until 0500 because the line up for PT (fitness training) was at 0530. That first night of Basic after squad leaders were picked, it was decided that we would wake up early so we could have enough time to get showered, shaved, the floor swept, the bathrooms cleaned and our beds made before we left for PT so we’d have plenty of time to get it done before we had to leave for the day.

That first morning, we were already up when our Drill Cadet from West Point was walking through the door banging a metal trash can and a lid together to wake us up. He grinned when he saw us already up. I think he was a little disappointed that he didn't get to scare us out of bed.

Most every morning, we would march down to the PT fields, which was a giant track with a wood chip field in the middle of it. We would run around the track and the switch to push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks and various other physical exercises.

After that first week, things took a turn as we went to different training every day for our basic soldier’s training. Plus, we would run in formation on the street and only go to the PT fields every other day. It was during this time that Drill Sergeant Remington discovered that Bill and I were not as fit as he'd liked. Within a few days, Bill and I were given the most sacred duty of the running formation, we were given the road guard uniforms. This meant that Bill and I had to run in front or behind the formation and then when an intersection came up, we'd have to run up to the intersection and block it while the formation ran by. Then we'd have to run back to the front of the formation, or behind it, until the next intersection came up.

The different training days were meant that we'd have to hurry up to be on time to leave for class and then wait for a while until the trucks came to take us to the class. If it was close enough, we'd fast walk on the side of the road to the class. Depending on the Drill Sergeant leading the march, it could be just as brutal as the PT runs.

One day, we started out at a fast walk, then we were jogging. Then we were literally running. Picture a bunch of us running with equipment on the side of the road for miles. I had know idea why we were running, but was not about to question it. It turns out, the Drill Sergeant leading the march had such a large stride that it became almost impossible for those behind him to march. They had to jog to keep up. Those of us in back not expecting it ended up running.

Georgia is pretty humid, so when we got there, we were all soaking wet with sweat. A fellow soldier who had sprained his ankle rode with the equipment and when he saw us he asked if it had rained.

I had mentioned that we were part of the Nebraska "Buddy Platoon", which was that we were all from Nebraska. Well so many kids signed up for the "Buddy Platoon" that they had 1 and 1/2 platoons full of Nebraskans. First platoon, which I was in, was all Nebraska. The second platoon was half Nebraskans and half every body else.

At first the familiarity of everybody being from Nebraska was nice, but then it quickly grew tedious.

Bill and I knew each other and that was it. Everybody else knew at least five other people that they went to school with or were in a unit together. Because of this, it didn't take long for favorites to emerge. Need someone to do a chore? Grab someone you don't know, like me. Need someone for KP (kitchen duty)? Have someone else do it. We had figured it out. You weren't supposed to have KP more than four or five times during Basic because there were enough people to do it. Some of us, like me, had to do it at least 8 times. Some guys had it over ten times. Why was this? Because some of the guys who were friend with the squad leaders didn't have to do it once.

I'm not saying Nebraskans are annoying. I was born and raised here after all. I'm just saying that it might have been nice to have met some people from around the country. There were a few in other platoons that we met that were nice and had some interesting stories. Instead, we were treated with the comings and goings of party life in small town Nebraska. You've heard one story about a skank that someone had sex with then you'd heard them all.

Maybe I just don't like people.

That might be it. I just don't like other people that much. When it's other people, you tend to get annoyed fast. Like the kid that sang the Army Life song that was in a MASH episode. He'd always sing "Gee Mom, I want to go home." almost every night while he was at his bunk. Thankfully, it was close to mine!

Then there was the guy across from me who couldn't stop bragging about his girlfriend and how much sex he'd had with her. She sent him his walkman tape player one day with their song in it, "Feel Like Making Love" by Bad Company.

I didn't care for that song before Basic, but now I really freaking hate it.

He was homesick for his girlfriend, so he'd sit there and listen to the song over and over. Wait... Did I say "listen"? I meant that he sang it out loud in a mumbling cadence. Did I mention that this was at night when we were trying to sleep? Yes. It WAS at NIGHT when we were trying to sleep. After what seemed like hours, but was probably 15 minutes, I asked (maybe asked/yelled) for him to please not do that.

I was met with a "Shut the fuck up!"

But now that I think about it, most of the guys were all right. Now one is going to get along with everyone.

Ironically enough, I ran into Bill and I's squad leader at a Walgreens a couple of months ago. I mentioned this to Bill who said, "Oh yeah. I remember him. He said that I had a bad attitude and was going to report me to the Drill Sergeant."

"And I did," he added quickly with a laugh.

Yeah, Bill had a rougher time in Basic than I did, but that's another story.

Sometimes, it had its benefits. Because we were all going to go into college, we were a platoon of pretty smart guys. We won a few of the competitions, like the map reading/navigating skills one, and came pretty close to getting the Honor Platoon award, but a few failed inspections (lost because the same kid kept forgetting to lock his locker 5 times) and not as many points in the PT competition (because we were the youngest and got weighted less than the older guys in another platoon) did us in.

Another benefit were the care packages. At first, these packages were a nice treat for us as someone's parent sent a box filled with cookies and candy to share with the rest of the platoon. The soldier would get handed the box and we'd line up to get some of the box. After a few weeks of handing out two or three care packages a day, the Drill Sergeants got really tired of it and just shoved the boxes at you and walked away. Most people kept these stashes in their lockers. Bill and I had our music sent to us around this time. Thank God for walkman tape players to drown out our fellow Nebraskans!

At training sessions, the Sergeants in charge of that day's training will make small talk while there was a lull, like if it was raining and we were waiting under the bleachers. Frequently, we'd be sitting there if there was a heat advisory.

One Sergeant asked one of us, "Where are you from?"

Nebraska was the response.

He asked another one with the same response.

After a few more times of this, he finally asked, "Are you all from Nebraska?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" we yelled.

"No shit?!" he exclaimed.

"No shit, Sergeant!" we yelled back.

More Basic stories to come. The next one should be the time Bill and I switched places for a while.