...and now folks, it's time for yet another recollection of my military experiences. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride...



-Memoirs of a Veteran [Episode III]-


It was late March 2001, and I had been sent over to Camp Geiger to attend the two week Corporals Leadership Course there. Even though my promotion to Corporal had taken place back in November 2000, it wasn't until now that I was to finally take the course. The reason for not taking the course right after promotion mainly had to do with fitting it in to my training schedule within the company.

The two week course served the purpose of instructing fresh Corporals on how to act like Non Commissioned Officers. This was accomplished by teaching them how to drill a platoon, inspect uniforms, give presentations and classes, and miscellaneous leadership skills. It's usually the first formal school you attend since reporting to the Fleet, so you have to adjust back to the more strict lifestyle and rules.

Besides taking long, boring classes while attending the course, you also undergo rigorous physical training that takes place every other day. Usually the training consists of long runs at a medium to fast pace, the obstacle course, and intense upper body workouts (push ups, pull ups, and such.) The whole purpose of the course is to transform you into a leader of Marines, and you can't be one of those if you're out of shape (for Marine standards, that is.)

The course was instructed by a group of Sergeants, who were usually nice yet firm and strict. One of the instructors at the time happened to be from my own battalion. He was probably the nicest to me out of all of them, no doubt due to already knowing one another. Still though, what a Marine would consider "nice" treatment, a civilian might view as being absolutely horrible.

Anyway, it was time for me to report to Corporals Course and I had actually arrived too early. When I initially went inside the building to report in, no one was around. So I walked back out to the parking lot and got in my car. I lit a smoke as I watched other Corporals begin to drive in and park their cars. Small groups began to form in the parking lot, each one carrying on a different conversation but all with the same tone of nervousness.

Finally, an instructor was spotted walking into the building. I quickly looked at my reflection in the driver side window and adjusted my uniform. After doing so, I grabbed my orders and walked back across the street towards the building. A line had begun to form outside the entrance, each Corporal waiting to report in one at a time. I joined the others in line and began waiting for my turn.

While waiting, I noticed Corporals who had just entered the building to report in were coming out and getting at the back of the line. Confused by what was going on, I decided to ask one of them that passed by me why they were joining the line again. I recieved an explanation that they had not spoken with enough motivation and intensity while reporting in, and then were told to go to the back of the line and try again. Ahhhh, so the games have already begun, fantastic. ; P

When it was my turn to report in, I approached the Sergeants and yelled my rank, name, and battalion to them as loud as I could. I was told to try it again, the correct way this time. I repeated myself, only louder and with more intensity this time. The Sergeants laughed and shook their heads at me. Then I was instructed to try again, this time louder, more intense, and to repeat the words on a small sign in front of me.

I looked at the sign, took a deep breath and began as instructed. This time I was cut off by them before I could finish what I was saying. I was told I was a "nasty" Marine who couldn't follow simple instructions and to walk to the end of the line and try again after some "self-reflection." Damn, I honestly thought i'd be one of the Marines that wouldn't have to do that.

So back to the end of the line I went, feeling stupid the whole way there (which was the whole point.) The day had grown hot and humid and I began to sweat as I stood there in line for the second time. I lit a cigarette while I waited and made small talk with the Corporal in front of me. About thirty minutes passed by the time I was back at the front of the line, here we go again.

I did as I had been originally instructed and yelled out the words on the sign with every ounce of energy I had. My throat was already turning raw and my voice crackled as I shouted. Yet again, I was told to repeat myself with more motivation and intensity behind my words. Careful not to show any signs of frustration, I repeated myself and this time my words actually sounded so distorted that even I couldn't understand what I was saying.

A "very well Corporal" was said back to me by the Sergeant sitting directly in front of where I stood. I was then asked if I had all necessary materials needed to begin my training for the next two weeks. I answered back with a loud, sharp "Yes, Sergeant." My orders were handed back to me along with a small sheet of instructions. I was then told to come back for classes, which were to begin in one hour.

I walked back outside, now finished with reporting in, and rubbed my raw throat. I asked a fellow Corporal for a menthol cigarette in hopes that it would help sooth the fresh soreness. Sitting back down inside my car, I lit the menthol cigarette and began to think about what the next two weeks were going to be like.

Predictions were actually next to impossible, considering the next two weeks involved random acts of punishment and mind games. There were times when you were "damned if you do and damned if you don't" when it came to making decisions regarding anything. Either way, you knew your decision or action was going to be followed by a punishment of some sort. So all you could really do was just remind yourself that the course would be over soon.

The worst day I had during those two weeks consisted of; an extremely long and fast run in the morning, remedial physical training between classes, a fifteen minute lunch break, more remedial physical training, a failed uniform inspection (for the whole class) which remedial physical training was given for punishment, and cleaning the squad bay in the barracks that night. The day had left me so physically and mentally exhausted that I practically had the IQ and strength of a wet paper bag by the time I went to bed. I hadn't felt that way since I had been in recruit training.

The best day I had while there (besides graduation day) involved no physical training in the morning, a full lunch break, no uniform inspections, and getting out of classes three hours early. So, you can see the two extremes of the scale now. Every day between those two extremes consisted of a little bit of everything mixed together.

By the time graduation day arrived, I was probably in the best physical shape that I had ever been (which still applies up to my currently typing this.) On that day, I looked back at the previous two weeks and was not only glad it was over, but glad I had survived it. It had been a rough training evolution, but it made you feel good to know you had completed it. At the graduation ceremony I recieved my certificate of completion then walked off the stage. I was able to finally exhale after having held my breath for two weeks.

That was actually the last formal school I attended while in the military. I never ended up going to Sergeants Course, so I haven't a clue what that might have been like. Corporals Course had been a great experience in terms of learning how to become a better, stronger leader. As for personal enjoyment, i'd have to rate it right down there with basic recruit training. Ahhhh, how great it is to be out of the military now.




H-K-D