[Covertness]

Bunch of Sand Hilton pussies....

Boot Camp/Basic Training memories;

Without trying to brag, after Fork Union Military Academy starting at the age of 10, when I went to Harmony Church I kept waiting on the challenge that never came. Thought military school was nothing like basic training, aside from learning how to shoot, move, and communicate in the field, nothing about basic was surprising. I do remember the first speach while sitting on the bus. "Good morning gentlemen. My name is Staff Sergeant Kelly. On behalf of the US Army, the 2nd Inf Training Bat, and the training cadre, I'd like to welcome you to basic training. NOW YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO GET OFF THIS BUSS AND TWENTY OF THEM ARE GONE!

I followed my D-Bag out the window of the bus and was the first in formation. Aside from PT, the first week or so is basically Drill and Ceremonies FM-22-5 shit. Having lived in that kind of envoronment since 10 yrs old, I quickly found myself besides my Drills teaching my peers. They made me a guidon bearer since I already knew how to properly carry the guidon and I was proud to be the only person to hold their "position" (guidon bearer, squad leader, etc) throughout the entire OSUT.

Running has always kicked my ass. Too much pot and cigarettes as a high school hoodlum I guess. However, I remember running at the head of my platoon spinning my guidon around my body and over my head while passing other platoons. (I spun a rifle on the drill team at military school. And I will brag with the knowledge that my 7th grader soloist rifle drill beat my opposite from VMI at the Dogwood Festival Parade.) My Platoon was motivated as hell. Me, two of my future Ranger Buddies and two aspiring SF guys challenged and encouraged the rest of our platoon to keep up with us. We kicked the other platoons ass in every thing we did.

....except for Branch. He was a disgusting fat body who literally couldn't do one proper push-up. We got fucking tired of dragging his lame ass around so I convinced my buddies to tie him to his mattress while he was sleeping and throw him down the stairs. Maybe now he'd quit or get hurt and get re-cycled. [Grunt life, deal with it.] Everybody in that barracks did PT at 0200 hrs for an hour or so. Branch didn't quit and he didn't get hurt. THEY PASSED HIM! A more unbelievable travesty I have yet to witness in life.

We had two Vietnam Veterans coming back into the Army with us. Both sporting 173rd combat patch and jump wings (no CIB, not that that mattered). Two or three times a week one of them would wake us all up in the middle of the night screaming his fool head off. Bad dreams. Nobody ever talked about it and I kind of felt sorry for the guy but admired him for coming back in and facing his demons. Fear is, in reality, the only one true enemy.

I have a cool Jump School story too but that's all ya'll get for $5