Blindsided by Life
Boot camp was physically challenging, but if you were in
halfway decent shape, the physical part wasn’t as challenging as I expected.
The part that got most of the recruits was the mental aspect. When I went
through, the Navy’s main objective was to break you in boot camp, rather than
risk it happening while on a mission.
The Friday of our sixth week, we had two inspections in one day, a barracks inspection, and a close order drill inspection. The close order drill was to be held in the morning, and the barracks was would be inspected after lunch. We were up until three o’clock getting ready for the barracks inspection. Then everyone had to get up at five, to begin the day.
We started the drill, and I zoned out. I literally fell asleep while marching. I remember hearing “and HALT!” During this drill we had to make several turns, both ninety and forty-five degree, while marching. After we halted, and as we stood at attention, the Company Commander (CC) addressed us. He informed us that, as a company, we had passed the inspection, but two recruits had made blunders, and would be dealt with that evening.
Oh, crap. I knew I had to be one of the two, I was sleep marching! He then named the deficient individuals. I was not among them. I still don’t know how I passed, but I did.
Later we went inside for the barracks inspection. As I stood at attention in front of my locker, the CC stood in front of me, and read my name tag. “Choate? How long have you been in this company, Choate?” Recruits with problems, were often sent from one company back to another, there-by increasing their time spent in boot camp.
I answered, “Six weeks, sir!” He looked at me, a little puzzled, “You have been with this company since the beginning?” “Yes, sir!” He gave a little grin, slapped me on the shoulder, and said “Good job!” They learn your name very quickly, when you get into trouble.
We were all dead tired, and just waiting for lights out, when we heard three very loud thumps, followed by the most eerie wailing, I have ever heard. If you can imagine a lifetime of sorrow and pain, put to sound, then you know what I mean.
I jumped up and ran to the head, where the sound was coming from. Three other recruits, out of the eighty in the barracks, followed. One of our fellow recruits was sitting on the floor, with his head on his knees, and his arms on his head, sobbing uncontrollably.
I walked over and sat next to him, waiting until he either stopped crying, or wanted to talk. After a while he raised his head, and I saw the blood streaming down his face, where he had beat his head against the metal door. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. I was nervous. When you are next to someone that you believe may be mentally unbalanced, it is a scary experience. I don’t recall what I said to him, but gradually he began to tell his story.
Two years before, while he was at a friend’s house, his parents both died in a house fire. Soon after he met a girl, who helped him cope with his loss. He fell in love, only to lose her the following year, in an automobile accident. Both of these incidents had been in an April, over the previous two years. He had wanted the Navy to be a new family, but the pressures of boot camp, combined with his memories, were tearing him apart.
Soon after this, the base police and the two corpsmen arrived. I was asked to accompany him, with the corpsmen, to the hospital. They thought a familiar face would help keep him calm.
The next day he was returned from the hospital to carryon with boot camp. I was shocked, but a lowly recruit has no say in such matters. That night the scene was repeated, with him beating his head against the doors, and those ungodly wails. I will never forget the sound of his screams. I again sat and talked to him, and again the corpsmen arrived, and we took him to the hospital. This time he did not return.
Near the end of boot camp we had to gather our records, and check out, from various places at the recruit center. As I was walking around the base, gathering the material, I ran across the recruit who had been in our company. He was standing on the sidewalk, staring blankly into space. A female lieutenant was screaming into his face, that he was outside without his cover (hat), and he could NOT be outside without his cover.
I walked up, saluted and said “Permission to speak ma’am.” She glared at me and said, “Can’t you see I am busy?” I replied “Yes ma’am, but this is very important.” “Well what is it?” she demanded. “May I speak to you privately, ma’am?” “Oh, alright!” she said in exasperation, as we walked away from the recruit.
“Ma’am, the recruit you were just speaking to, was in my company. He has had a nervous breakdown, and is in the process of getting discharged.” She looked stunned, and asked “Is he dangerous?” I answered “I don’t know for sure, ma’am, but I would sure be nice to him.” She nodded and said “Thank you.”
She walked to the recruit and said “Carry on, son.” He then walked away, glassy eyed and moving like a robot.
There is no moral to this story. I just woke early this morning and could not go back to sleep. I kept thinking of that poor kid, and wondering what happened to him. Hopefully he found peace.
The Friday of our sixth week, we had two inspections in one day, a barracks inspection, and a close order drill inspection. The close order drill was to be held in the morning, and the barracks was would be inspected after lunch. We were up until three o’clock getting ready for the barracks inspection. Then everyone had to get up at five, to begin the day.
We started the drill, and I zoned out. I literally fell asleep while marching. I remember hearing “and HALT!” During this drill we had to make several turns, both ninety and forty-five degree, while marching. After we halted, and as we stood at attention, the Company Commander (CC) addressed us. He informed us that, as a company, we had passed the inspection, but two recruits had made blunders, and would be dealt with that evening.
Oh, crap. I knew I had to be one of the two, I was sleep marching! He then named the deficient individuals. I was not among them. I still don’t know how I passed, but I did.
Later we went inside for the barracks inspection. As I stood at attention in front of my locker, the CC stood in front of me, and read my name tag. “Choate? How long have you been in this company, Choate?” Recruits with problems, were often sent from one company back to another, there-by increasing their time spent in boot camp.
I answered, “Six weeks, sir!” He looked at me, a little puzzled, “You have been with this company since the beginning?” “Yes, sir!” He gave a little grin, slapped me on the shoulder, and said “Good job!” They learn your name very quickly, when you get into trouble.
We were all dead tired, and just waiting for lights out, when we heard three very loud thumps, followed by the most eerie wailing, I have ever heard. If you can imagine a lifetime of sorrow and pain, put to sound, then you know what I mean.
I jumped up and ran to the head, where the sound was coming from. Three other recruits, out of the eighty in the barracks, followed. One of our fellow recruits was sitting on the floor, with his head on his knees, and his arms on his head, sobbing uncontrollably.
I walked over and sat next to him, waiting until he either stopped crying, or wanted to talk. After a while he raised his head, and I saw the blood streaming down his face, where he had beat his head against the metal door. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. I was nervous. When you are next to someone that you believe may be mentally unbalanced, it is a scary experience. I don’t recall what I said to him, but gradually he began to tell his story.
Two years before, while he was at a friend’s house, his parents both died in a house fire. Soon after he met a girl, who helped him cope with his loss. He fell in love, only to lose her the following year, in an automobile accident. Both of these incidents had been in an April, over the previous two years. He had wanted the Navy to be a new family, but the pressures of boot camp, combined with his memories, were tearing him apart.
Soon after this, the base police and the two corpsmen arrived. I was asked to accompany him, with the corpsmen, to the hospital. They thought a familiar face would help keep him calm.
The next day he was returned from the hospital to carryon with boot camp. I was shocked, but a lowly recruit has no say in such matters. That night the scene was repeated, with him beating his head against the doors, and those ungodly wails. I will never forget the sound of his screams. I again sat and talked to him, and again the corpsmen arrived, and we took him to the hospital. This time he did not return.
Near the end of boot camp we had to gather our records, and check out, from various places at the recruit center. As I was walking around the base, gathering the material, I ran across the recruit who had been in our company. He was standing on the sidewalk, staring blankly into space. A female lieutenant was screaming into his face, that he was outside without his cover (hat), and he could NOT be outside without his cover.
I walked up, saluted and said “Permission to speak ma’am.” She glared at me and said, “Can’t you see I am busy?” I replied “Yes ma’am, but this is very important.” “Well what is it?” she demanded. “May I speak to you privately, ma’am?” “Oh, alright!” she said in exasperation, as we walked away from the recruit.
“Ma’am, the recruit you were just speaking to, was in my company. He has had a nervous breakdown, and is in the process of getting discharged.” She looked stunned, and asked “Is he dangerous?” I answered “I don’t know for sure, ma’am, but I would sure be nice to him.” She nodded and said “Thank you.”
She walked to the recruit and said “Carry on, son.” He then walked away, glassy eyed and moving like a robot.
There is no moral to this story. I just woke early this morning and could not go back to sleep. I kept thinking of that poor kid, and wondering what happened to him. Hopefully he found peace.
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