120th.
The part about flying across the country by myself was not a problem, I had already done it plenty of times. It was the part about not knowing what was coming, what to expect. My family wasn't a military family at all. My grandpa had been a cook for the Army, but I didn't even know that for half of my life. We didn't do anything extra to celebrate the military holidays, or really know anyone that was in any branch. So I had absolutely no clue what I was getting into, except what I had seen in movies. And that definitely didn't reassure me that I would be okay.
When I landed in Columbia, South Carolina, I had finally met two other people who were going to Basic also. So we stuck together and headed to the USO Lounge Area, the designated meeting place for newcomers. The ladies there were very nice and let us all eat snacks and play video games. They knew what was coming, so they wanted us to be as comfortable as possible. All together there was probably 100 kids (I say kids because we all were wide-eyed like a child waiting for their favorite snack) from all over the United States. We were all texting our families and snacking on candy bars and chips, trying to calm our nerves.
Silence fell over the whole room. Nobody looked at their phones, everyone put their food down to look up at the man that walked in. He was a very tall, buff African-American man dressed in army greens with a wide brimmed Drill Sergeant hat on. You could barely see his eyes from under his hat, and he had a long stride. He looked like he had such confidence that anyone would bow down to him. He yelled at us to get up and stand in line. He explained that he would be reading off our names and we needed to follow with a, "Here!" just like we did in grade school. The very first name he called happened to be mine, a curse I've always had. Being a shy kid, and having a last name that started with B was never good for me. It was going great until one kid didn't hear his name be called and made the Drill Sergeant call his name many, many times. He started over and called each person again, this time making them take a knee. He warned us that if we were that dumb in Basic Training, it would not end well for us.
We finally filed out of the airport onto a big charter bus. I sat with a girl who was feeling exactly how I was. It was a half hour drive to Fort Jackson, and it was the longest drive ever. We both sat there, and contemplated what we were doing with our lives and why we would ever have said, "yes" to our recruiters. The not knowing was the worst feeling. As soon as the bus driver pulled into the gates, we knew there was no turning back. There was another eight minute drive to 120th, which is where we get issued our uniforms and learn the ropes. Once we came to a stop, a male drill sergeant ran onto the bus. "You have 30 seconds to get off of the bus. 321go." We pushed and shoved and I was one of the firsts off. It took way longer than 30 seconds for everyone to clear out, something we would later learn to do very well. He entered the bus again and found someone's candy wrapper on one of the seats. That's when we knew it was over.
"FRONT LEANING REST POSITION, MOVE!! Push the pavement. Push! 1, 2, 3, 1,2,3." Since we had been in a single file line, everyone was very close together. People were stepping on their neighbor's fingers, grinding their palms into the gravel, and my face was in the girl ahead of me's butt. It was an absolute mess. Finally they told us to stand back up and walk inside the chapel. By this time, it was about 9 P.M. but felt like 3 A.M. There were three drill sergeants in that little room, screaming at us to run around the perimeter, don't look around, watch the entrance video, and hurry and eat our food. It consisted of a little can of fruit cocktail, little bag of sesame seeds, little tiny juice box and a couple other things we choked down. The D.S. said if all the food wasn't gone by the time the video was over, that we'd pay. Nobody knew how long the video was so we pushed through the dry seeds and followed it with the fruit cocktail mix. Couldn't make a sound, couldn't drop a crumb, couldn't take your eyes off the screen. Once it was finally over, they ran us to another room down the hallway to get issued our Physical Training uniforms (that also doubled as PJ's, Sunday clothes, Sick Call clothes, and "after the range" uniform). The D.S. did a lot more yelling before we could finally go to our barracks and go to sleep. By the time we could finally sleep, it was 12 A.M. and we were all too scared to actually get rest.
120th was five days of "corrective training", getting shots, getting questioned, getting issued our uniforms and gear, and trying not to worry about what would happen after those five days was up. I learned to say the Soldier's Creed, learned most of the 3 General Orders, and knew exactly when to look at someone in the eyes and when not to (just don't). We would get such little sleep, eat an unlimited amount of food during chow times, and do so many push-ups that you thought your arms would fall off. Everyone was finally okay with being there and the night before we left for going to actual BCT, there was a theft.
The female barracks had about $130 stolen between three or four girls. And the male barracks had around a grand stolen. Everyone that was shipping out the next day were always together, we were all either in the barracks at the same times or out of the barracks at the same times. We pointed fingers and had a feeling about who was doing it, but we never found out if it was true or not. They punished us by making us sit outside on our packed bags for 8 hours. It was Easter Sunday, when we should have been calling our families and enjoying our last day together. The drill sergeants fed us our first MRE's (which turn out to not be so bad). After a long day, we got to go back to our bunks and fall asleep comfortably for the last time for the next three months. The next day, our comfort was taken away.
When I landed in Columbia, South Carolina, I had finally met two other people who were going to Basic also. So we stuck together and headed to the USO Lounge Area, the designated meeting place for newcomers. The ladies there were very nice and let us all eat snacks and play video games. They knew what was coming, so they wanted us to be as comfortable as possible. All together there was probably 100 kids (I say kids because we all were wide-eyed like a child waiting for their favorite snack) from all over the United States. We were all texting our families and snacking on candy bars and chips, trying to calm our nerves.
Silence fell over the whole room. Nobody looked at their phones, everyone put their food down to look up at the man that walked in. He was a very tall, buff African-American man dressed in army greens with a wide brimmed Drill Sergeant hat on. You could barely see his eyes from under his hat, and he had a long stride. He looked like he had such confidence that anyone would bow down to him. He yelled at us to get up and stand in line. He explained that he would be reading off our names and we needed to follow with a, "Here!" just like we did in grade school. The very first name he called happened to be mine, a curse I've always had. Being a shy kid, and having a last name that started with B was never good for me. It was going great until one kid didn't hear his name be called and made the Drill Sergeant call his name many, many times. He started over and called each person again, this time making them take a knee. He warned us that if we were that dumb in Basic Training, it would not end well for us.
We finally filed out of the airport onto a big charter bus. I sat with a girl who was feeling exactly how I was. It was a half hour drive to Fort Jackson, and it was the longest drive ever. We both sat there, and contemplated what we were doing with our lives and why we would ever have said, "yes" to our recruiters. The not knowing was the worst feeling. As soon as the bus driver pulled into the gates, we knew there was no turning back. There was another eight minute drive to 120th, which is where we get issued our uniforms and learn the ropes. Once we came to a stop, a male drill sergeant ran onto the bus. "You have 30 seconds to get off of the bus. 321go." We pushed and shoved and I was one of the firsts off. It took way longer than 30 seconds for everyone to clear out, something we would later learn to do very well. He entered the bus again and found someone's candy wrapper on one of the seats. That's when we knew it was over.
"FRONT LEANING REST POSITION, MOVE!! Push the pavement. Push! 1, 2, 3, 1,2,3." Since we had been in a single file line, everyone was very close together. People were stepping on their neighbor's fingers, grinding their palms into the gravel, and my face was in the girl ahead of me's butt. It was an absolute mess. Finally they told us to stand back up and walk inside the chapel. By this time, it was about 9 P.M. but felt like 3 A.M. There were three drill sergeants in that little room, screaming at us to run around the perimeter, don't look around, watch the entrance video, and hurry and eat our food. It consisted of a little can of fruit cocktail, little bag of sesame seeds, little tiny juice box and a couple other things we choked down. The D.S. said if all the food wasn't gone by the time the video was over, that we'd pay. Nobody knew how long the video was so we pushed through the dry seeds and followed it with the fruit cocktail mix. Couldn't make a sound, couldn't drop a crumb, couldn't take your eyes off the screen. Once it was finally over, they ran us to another room down the hallway to get issued our Physical Training uniforms (that also doubled as PJ's, Sunday clothes, Sick Call clothes, and "after the range" uniform). The D.S. did a lot more yelling before we could finally go to our barracks and go to sleep. By the time we could finally sleep, it was 12 A.M. and we were all too scared to actually get rest.
120th was five days of "corrective training", getting shots, getting questioned, getting issued our uniforms and gear, and trying not to worry about what would happen after those five days was up. I learned to say the Soldier's Creed, learned most of the 3 General Orders, and knew exactly when to look at someone in the eyes and when not to (just don't). We would get such little sleep, eat an unlimited amount of food during chow times, and do so many push-ups that you thought your arms would fall off. Everyone was finally okay with being there and the night before we left for going to actual BCT, there was a theft.
The female barracks had about $130 stolen between three or four girls. And the male barracks had around a grand stolen. Everyone that was shipping out the next day were always together, we were all either in the barracks at the same times or out of the barracks at the same times. We pointed fingers and had a feeling about who was doing it, but we never found out if it was true or not. They punished us by making us sit outside on our packed bags for 8 hours. It was Easter Sunday, when we should have been calling our families and enjoying our last day together. The drill sergeants fed us our first MRE's (which turn out to not be so bad). After a long day, we got to go back to our bunks and fall asleep comfortably for the last time for the next three months. The next day, our comfort was taken away.
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