Boot Camp

My life took a dramatic (though expected) turn on August 9, 1989. Barely two months after I graduated from high school, it was the day I got on a plane and headed to Recruit Training Command, Great Lakes, Illinois to begin my four-year stint in the Navy.

The day actually started the day before, which was actually supposed to be ‘the’ day, when they told me things had been pushed back. I didn’t really mind, since it meant a second straight day of Domino’s Pizza. Keep in mind that I’m two months shy of my 18th birthday, so I think this is awesome.

I had no idea what kind of culture shock I was in for.

That day started at about 5:30 as the recruiter came to take me downtown for some last-minute processing, and then the bus took us to El Paso International for a flight to Chicago, via DFW. I don’t really remember how late it was that night when we got off the bus at the base—maybe 8 pm or so and they started shouting at us and then herded us into a big room and were informed of all the stuff we wouldn’t be needing for the next nine weeks of our lives. Clothes, hairbrush, etc. Some got put into storage (to be returned upon departure from RTC) and some of the other stuff got donated to charity.

The next stop was a drug test. Peeing into a cup. Now I had to go pretty bad once I got off the plane, so I had no chance here. Drink some water, drink some more, watch a group of recruits go by, repeat. It took a while to get the job done, seemingly an hour and a half or so, but it felt like a lot longer, given how long the day had been. They never told me whether I passed, but I’m guessing I did since they let me stay.

The next thing I remember is wanting to get as much sleep as possible, so I got a quick shave (I didn’t have much need of a razor in those days) and butchering myself. The popular notion of the company commander (drill sergeant) banging on a trash can to awaken sleepy recruits is likely true, but I vividly remember hearing the lights flipping on at the switch box every morning. That was what I heard as boot camp started the next morning. It reminds me of not being able to sleep on one of those first mornings and seeing our CC get out of his car and feeling dread as he headed inside for another day.

Those first days as a sailor were foggy—there were times when I could hardly believe where I was, and feeling so dog tired that I hoped I would wake up and realize it was just a dream.