Lunar
now i know how joan of arc felt
"No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country."
- Gen. George S. Patton, Jr.
This is the true account, an auto-biography if you will, of my military experience. All names will be changed to keep the privacy of the individuals in the story.
~~~~
The Field
September, 2019
This place ain't that bad, I think as I sit upon the biggest bitch-to-climb mound of sand I've ever had to post up on in my entire life; We climb many mounds here. I take a sip of the last Redbull that we have with us out here as I watch the sunrise, it's been a long night of guard duty and I still have a full days work ahead of me. That saying has become a running joke of sorts for us, no matter where you go in the field there will always be some young private or naive NCO (Non-commissioned officer) that thinks a simple sunrise makes this field of sand "not that bad." However, that sunrise may be just what a soldier needs to help him through the day as he may not have the privilege to see the next one.
~~~~
Chapter One: Shark Attack
June, 2018
"Get the fuck off my bus!" An absolute unit of a man yells, not that I can see his figure though as we were ordered to keep our 'ugly' faces shoved into the one Laundry Bag we were given the privilege to have. The smell of sweat and dirty laundry clouded my already muggy senses, but the smells are by far the least of my worries at this moment. I stand up and begin to file in behind the many other trainees that are attempting to escape the bus hastily. "Don't look at me eyeballs, move! Move! Double time!" I hear the Drill Sergeant yell at some poor bastard that thought he could look up as to not trip down the bus stairs, to which he proceeded to do ironically. A swarm of other Drill Sergeants promptly circled around the victim as tear his ass a new one as he struggled to get to his feet.
This is the Shark Attack. When you first arrive at Basic Training, you are immediately destroyed in order to break you down, this will prepare the soldier for the rest of their Army career, instilling discipline and compliance into them; Brainwashing with sweeter terms.
We form up in ranks with our faces still in our bags, the adrenaline has already kicked in and I haven't yet realized how exhausted I was. The scorching summer heat of Fort Jackson, South Carolina caused sweat to pour down my face in sheets. The Drill Sergeants ran through the ranks, screaming obscenities at everyone, though I seemed to blend in well enough as to not be targeted individually; Rule one of survival: Keep a low-profile, if the Drill Sergeant never learns your name in the several months of rigorous training then you've done everything right.
"When I say dump your bags, you will dump your goddamn bags into the sand. Do it now!" A female Drill Sergeant yells. I immediately lift my face from my bag and get my impression of my new life for a few months: Sand. (Little did I know that I will be seeing much more sand a year down the road). My bag was already dumped before I even realized that I did it; My toothbrush and other hygiene items fall into the sand along with the rest of my belongings...well the items we were allowed to keep, they already took our phones.
Directly in front of the formation is a large wooden platform that a woman begins to step up on. As soon as the woman assumes her position, she yells. "Company, attention!" All of us snap to the position of attention, a basic command we have already learned. "Good afternoon trainees! I am Captain Rosemary and I will be your company commander for your stay here with us. Welcome to fuckin' Fort Jackson. Drill Sergeants gather your trainees into platoons and carry on!" The Commander issues a salute then we resume our shitty day.
- Gen. George S. Patton, Jr.
This is the true account, an auto-biography if you will, of my military experience. All names will be changed to keep the privacy of the individuals in the story.
~~~~
The Field
September, 2019
This place ain't that bad, I think as I sit upon the biggest bitch-to-climb mound of sand I've ever had to post up on in my entire life; We climb many mounds here. I take a sip of the last Redbull that we have with us out here as I watch the sunrise, it's been a long night of guard duty and I still have a full days work ahead of me. That saying has become a running joke of sorts for us, no matter where you go in the field there will always be some young private or naive NCO (Non-commissioned officer) that thinks a simple sunrise makes this field of sand "not that bad." However, that sunrise may be just what a soldier needs to help him through the day as he may not have the privilege to see the next one.
~~~~
Chapter One: Shark Attack
June, 2018
"Get the fuck off my bus!" An absolute unit of a man yells, not that I can see his figure though as we were ordered to keep our 'ugly' faces shoved into the one Laundry Bag we were given the privilege to have. The smell of sweat and dirty laundry clouded my already muggy senses, but the smells are by far the least of my worries at this moment. I stand up and begin to file in behind the many other trainees that are attempting to escape the bus hastily. "Don't look at me eyeballs, move! Move! Double time!" I hear the Drill Sergeant yell at some poor bastard that thought he could look up as to not trip down the bus stairs, to which he proceeded to do ironically. A swarm of other Drill Sergeants promptly circled around the victim as tear his ass a new one as he struggled to get to his feet.
This is the Shark Attack. When you first arrive at Basic Training, you are immediately destroyed in order to break you down, this will prepare the soldier for the rest of their Army career, instilling discipline and compliance into them; Brainwashing with sweeter terms.
We form up in ranks with our faces still in our bags, the adrenaline has already kicked in and I haven't yet realized how exhausted I was. The scorching summer heat of Fort Jackson, South Carolina caused sweat to pour down my face in sheets. The Drill Sergeants ran through the ranks, screaming obscenities at everyone, though I seemed to blend in well enough as to not be targeted individually; Rule one of survival: Keep a low-profile, if the Drill Sergeant never learns your name in the several months of rigorous training then you've done everything right.
"When I say dump your bags, you will dump your goddamn bags into the sand. Do it now!" A female Drill Sergeant yells. I immediately lift my face from my bag and get my impression of my new life for a few months: Sand. (Little did I know that I will be seeing much more sand a year down the road). My bag was already dumped before I even realized that I did it; My toothbrush and other hygiene items fall into the sand along with the rest of my belongings...well the items we were allowed to keep, they already took our phones.
Directly in front of the formation is a large wooden platform that a woman begins to step up on. As soon as the woman assumes her position, she yells. "Company, attention!" All of us snap to the position of attention, a basic command we have already learned. "Good afternoon trainees! I am Captain Rosemary and I will be your company commander for your stay here with us. Welcome to fuckin' Fort Jackson. Drill Sergeants gather your trainees into platoons and carry on!" The Commander issues a salute then we resume our shitty day.
