Out of everything, out of nothing. The lack of communication and anxiety to write what’s on my mind has been a real mod killer. Lately, Ever since I came back from Great Lakes Naval RTC in Michigan, I’ve had this uneasy feeling, this gnawing inside my gut. Or it could be my folks trying like hell to get me to change my mind about going back into the military, any branch of it. And the answer is always a resounding hell no. Why? I’m good on that front, I had a fucked up time in RTC, I was broken, sick, and yelled at that I wasn’t motivated to try and take the lead.
I was stressed beyond all fuck and none of their fucking yelling was helping me get through it at all! Look, I get it, “The few, the proud, the marines!” and every other Military slogan out there is supposed to build up your confidence, but all of that is simply wasted when your mind is constantly in the moment, in the present, in the here and now… It just feels like everything is different.
I’m getting a case of the tremors just thinking about it… But, I’ve made up my mind on the matter. Seriously, I have. I’m not pissed off, I’m not angry, I’ve had plenty of time to think about my choices, weigh my options, and come to a conclusion that my original goals that I set up for myself are the most sanity saving option. I was separated from the Navy because I caught Pneumonia and fell behind in training. You want to know how those first two weeks went? Sure, I’ll tell you.
When you get to Recruiting office on the day of your departure, you’re filled with so much excitement, you’re full of confidence, you’re excited, you’re so very chipper and you get a last few hours or minutes with your friends, family, loved ones, or random hobo that you decided to bring with you. After that, you pile into a car with five or six other Recruits and drive to another Recruiting office.
From there, you wait around while whoever is driving you gets there to drive you to a hotel in a van with another five or six recruits. You’ll be paired up with someone the same physical gender as you, sleep, wake up early at 3:30am, and get onto a bus with eighty other recruits. From there, you’ll go to the Military Entrance Processing Station otherwise known as the MEPS to get some last minute checkups done.
After another few hours, you’ll swear in, take a few photo ops with the person of your choice, pile onto the bus with those same recruits you came to the MEPS with and they’ll fly you off to the airport.
Once on the airplane, the seats are split up, and you have to sit where seated, no shit, because it’s a frigging airplane with assigned seating. Luck of the draw, I guess.
Once you’re at where you’re at, you have to get to meet up with a hundred or so Recruits, while a Petty Officer rips your ass several new ones while directing you on what to do while you wait for the bus driven by an angrier version of the guy you just heard. It usually goes females in the front, males in the back, for obvious reasons.
On the way there, they’ll play a DVD telling you a bunch of stuff that’ll be for a test that hopefully you make it to the day when you take it. I didn’t, but that’s not there yet. Here’s the fun part.
When you get there, the moment you get off the bus, they begin tearing your ass a new one. I have never stress pissed so many times in my life. You will be stressed out, they will yell at you to the point where you feel like you’re going to piss yourself constantly every three minutes or crap yourself every five.
After you get all your gear ready, all the while telling you that you keep fucking up or belay your life or something, it’s a bit muddled for me now, they’ll split you up into teams, and take you to your Division. Mine was 043 lead by Chief Aaron R. Sly, more on him in a bit. This process takes nearly three days. entire days, and you are up the entire time. Your brain will hate it, you will hate it, and more importantly, every second you’re there, they are testing you, pushing you, making sure you are stressed out to see what faults you have. I handled the stress like a boss. Also helped that I turned off my personality and base lined the crap out of it.
What I mean by turned off my personality, is that I did not emote once while the RDCs were there, not fucking once. Yeah, I might’ve griped here and there, but I stayed under the radar. The first week that you’re there is called Zero week, so you’re actually in training for 9 weeks, and I think it’ll be something like 13 weeks this year? Maybe? Anyways, during the day, you’re RDC’s will train you, teach you, and make you PT or IT depending on your level of fuckup. For me, it was the everything. Every stupid thing I did, I constantly missed a step and Chief Sly learned my name for the simple reason that I was always missing a step.
I must’ve gotten Orange Juice nearly every single day. Orange juice, or Hydration, is what they called IT, and you are meant to fail IT, and they know it. So, I gave them what they wanted, not by choice. Maybe by choice… who knows… Anyways.
Zero Week is your P-Days, where you are processed. Mentally, physically, health, dental, sight, hearing, inoculations, and more. It was during dental that they noticed I had a chest cough, and so began my falling behind in training… For nearly a week straight, I was SIQ then LLD, meaning that, doesn’t matter. It felt, by the end of it I had failed my division, I had failed my RDCs, I had failed my country just by getting sick. It had gotten so bad, that I was Orange Carded while I was sick and in the middle of the worst of the Pneumonia, and called a shitty recruit when I ran out of breath, or had a coughing fit, or had to stop to use the bathroom because i had to piss so bad.
I went to the military hospital and then the actual hospital. I had antibiotics, nasal spray, eye drops, cough drops, and more given to me. By that time… two weeks had passed. Two fucking weeks where my brain was nearly constantly assaulted by lots and lots of fucking screaming, almost to the point where, when it came time to get my hearing checked out, I could hear the echos of my RDCs telling me how much I sucked.
IT was happy… I think. Anyways, they kept trying to figure out what was wrong with me, holding me back for further testing, for nearly three hours I was there, getting tested for my hearing and just waiting to see the results. apparrently, somehting was negative 40 points and I was just REALLY good at guessing when to hit the little button. Either that, or I dunno, I WAS REALLY, REALLY GOOD AT HEARING SHIT.
Anyways, after a bunch more shit that culminated in Chief Sly telling me what a shit head I was for not being more motivated for not trying to grab the brass ring, since all the other 18 to 19 year old’s were going for the gusto, meanwhile, I the shit head recruit, could barely make little fucking corners in my fucking sheets. So, finally, when we changed buildings, or Ships, we learned about getting PT’d, when we got inspected, we learned about getting Dropped.
I learned Ship Fives LCPO is Senior chief Long. And Senior Chief Long learned that I’m an Author and a YouTuber and challenged my perception of fantasy versus Reality of being there. I told me a Fantasy would have him being a senitent can of mac’n’cheese with monkey arms and springs for legs while fighting a bag of gummy bears for the rights to a peach madeo f syrup. Reality was a very pissed off man with a buzzcut so close to my face I memorized the color of his eyes, how much further from his eyebrows than mine his hairline was, ando ther really fun features. He has a tiny mole next to his right eyebrow. I think he should get it check out.
Anyways, a few days after that, Senior chief Long asked for me, and chief sly took me there, so SC Long recommended I go to the PASS system, after which I’d be Asmo’d. Fun Fact: after just one meeting, PASS sent me to REU to figure out what the hell was going on in my head. since, well, you know, it was a warm and welcoming environment in there, and I felt more at ease talking about what was going on than back in the compartment, so I thought I could relax a bit more.
Two visits to REU and they recommended being separated… For nothing bad, I was just really out of my mind sick with pneumonia, and they were more concerned with my recovery.
So, that very night, after I had just gotten ripped yet another asshole by a Petty Officer for, yet again, failing the Orange Card, I said it was alright since I was going to be Separated anyways. When asked how I knew for a fact that was what was going to happen, I straight up told everyone that was just how the cards were laid on the table. Every little thing that was in my hard card they noted, plus my current health, and every quick system they sent me to, in addition to everyone telling me I didn’t belong or were expecting me to fail, just… I knew.
Stupidly, that’s when mail started to arrive. And i laughed my ass off, and when asked every single time why i was laughng, I always answered a child hood memory. So, they asked about what it was, so I told them about the time my dog got loose from the front yard, and the time I practiced with the soccer team during their drills at my high school while wear a duster, a backpack that weighed ten pounds, and clunky rarely tied shoes, and managed to outpace them.
Few days later, Off I went, led there by Petty Officer 1st Class, AE1, Harrison. I think he might’ve been sniffling the entire time. They take it kind of hard when a Recruit gets separated, and I never wanted to give up. and when asked by the recruit next to my bunk if I wanted to go home, I said of course I did, but at the same time, I’m taking this train all the way to its intended destination wherever that lead, graduation or Separations. I told everyone that I wasn’t going to give up on myself. And I didn’t, not once. Still to this day, I keep my goals in mind and work towards accomplishing them.
That was how my two weeks in boot camp went… Separations was another thing i went through for around a month and a half. That’s another post though.