This will probably be my last letter since there isn't much more to write about. I welcomed in the New Year by converting to Catholicism, which is exciting. We just have a few more things left and that's it for us. 171 question test, final drill, prac app test (over first aid) and the Battalion Commander's inspection. I'm not too worried about any of them.
I'm looking forward to visiting, though I have no idea what to do with my uniforms and stuff. I also can't wait to get to my MOS school and then to my first duty station. I'm going to try to get stationed in the base in Okinawa, Japan. I hear it's pretty deployable, though, but that doesn't really matter. We're all going to go to war no matter where we're stationed, except for the bitches who go get pregnant so they don't have to go, and then a good Marine has to go in their place.
That doesn't make sense to me. Marines belong with Marines; it doesn't matter where you are, or if you're alive, or if you're dead; your brothers and sisters will make sure you stay with them, where you ought to be.
Now that it's almost over, I'm looking back and I remember when it was TD5 and I looked forward to now and thought it was an impossible, long way away and I'd made a mistake joining. Now I'm glad I joined. I'm getting to look at the world in the way I wanted to look at it but couldn't easily describe. Yea, not all Marines are perfect or how I expected, but some are, and that's what I'm here for - the intangibles that your recruiter can't bribe you with. I'm here for John Basilone, who died for his buddies on Iwo Jima, and Dan Daly who yelled the infamous, "C'mon you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?" I'm here for the Marines who were killed when an IED blew up their convoy, and for the ones who didn't stop to think about the grenade - they jumped over it. I'm here for honor and courage and commitment, and I DO love the Marine Corps. Everything has a significance, even our seven belt loops (for the seven seas), because nothing can be considered insignificant; it might save your life somehow.
I'm also glad to be here for how we look at the war. It's easy to judge a war that you see on TV from your couch, but civilians aren't over there dying. Yes, Saddam is dead but he was only a tiny piece. They get to see all of the bad things that happen but the media doesn't cover anything good. They'll show our mistakes in a heartbeat but not the schools that are being built, not how we are training their troops, they don't see how hard we work; they want us home and we want to be home, but that's not how the world is, and when we adapted and overcame, they sat on their butts and bitched about it.
So who is really wrong here?
Oltman out, yo.
Training Day 58. Post Crucible.
There are many things that can and cannot be said about the Crucible, but now I understand why, when we asked senior platoons what is was like, all they would say is, "It's an experience."
On one hand, it wasn't what I expected. Somehow I expected it to be…harder? No. While you were doing the events you sometimes thought, "I thought it would be harder," but looking back I realize that was only due to sheer adrenaline, because we are all broke off, exhausted, and ready to do it again.
You did everything in teams of 18-22 people, each of which had one DI and one recruit as team leaders. The DIs mostly weren't DIs, just regular Marines mostly - they lost their DI mask for the event and it was cool. The teams themselves were picked alphabetically, so there I am as Teams 1 and 2 get assigned, listening for my name for Team 3, "Ledwell, Minck, Munoz, O'Keefe, Peters, Polodna…" I'm like, "Wait, where's my name?" Turns out there was a special Team 6, run by both Senior DIs from Platoons 4000 and 4001, comprised of the top nine of each platoon. As SDI Sgt Renteria said, "Now this team is obviously stacked." Us: "AYE Ma'am!" Renteria: "They said I had to have a team, and I don't want any drama. You know what to do, so get it done."
Them basically they let us do our thing, and with handpicked members it was AWESOME. The whole Crucible is like a combo of the Obstacle Course, the Confidence Course, endurance courses and hiking trails, except all the events are taller, higher, longer, and harder. Several of your teammates are 'casualties;' we have weapons and gear and have to cross the events with ammo cans, water jugs, barrels and people in stretchers.
The hardest part is that it just went on and on and on. Each day consisted of 19 1/2 hours of patrolling, climbing, hoisting each other, and crawling under barbed wire and through sand. One half hour was "field weapons maintenance." The remaining 4 hours were called "sleep time" but all that really meant is that the lights were out and we were tactical (silent with hand signals) while we reapplied cammie paint, fixed our gear and our feet, ate our limited MREs, took 30 minute rifle watches, made head calls and talked (um, tactically?). We were all exhausted, yes, but you sort of get to where you're so busy you don't notice.
It.
Was.
Awesome.
So both nights were 23:00 - 3:00 minus getting ready and packing our gear time. The last morning was a quick 10-mile hump back to the squad bay to Warriors Breakfast. Basically, it's what the males get to eat, only awesome! Real bacon, sausage, ice cream, hot chocolate, cake, bagels, muffins, omelets … soooo gooood.
So a lot of the other teams were extremely jealous that we had both SDIs AND the Gunny. We got candy (once) and they thought we had it really easy because the DIs weren't being that hard on us. This was totally untrue, though. They weren't that hard on us because we were doing EXCEPTIONAL though the Crucible - unlike any other team, we were completing nearly every obstacle within the time limits (female recruits usually don't). And we were doing exceptional because, think about it. The team representing the Senior Drill Instructors and the Series Gunnery Sgt HAS to do well. There was no other option for us if we didn't want to DIE later at the hands of the DIs for not impressing their bosses. We literally ran our asses off, but while we were more physically broke off than the other groups, I will say that they could be jealous of us mentally. No drama in our team, no bickering, positive attitudes all around. We were loving it.
The second day we did pugil sticks against Team 5, and I have never seen such aggressive behavior. SDI warns us "I don't want to see any wussy fights" and then we notice all these officers are out to watch - the Series Commander 1st Lt. Griswold, the Company Commander Captain Hasley, the Company 1st Sgt. Sanderson, Gunny Hilton and both SDIs. So we knew we had to put on a show. And we did. The officers were LOVING it. We beat the shit out of each other.
On one hand, it wasn't what I expected. Somehow I expected it to be…harder? No. While you were doing the events you sometimes thought, "I thought it would be harder," but looking back I realize that was only due to sheer adrenaline, because we are all broke off, exhausted, and ready to do it again.
You did everything in teams of 18-22 people, each of which had one DI and one recruit as team leaders. The DIs mostly weren't DIs, just regular Marines mostly - they lost their DI mask for the event and it was cool. The teams themselves were picked alphabetically, so there I am as Teams 1 and 2 get assigned, listening for my name for Team 3, "Ledwell, Minck, Munoz, O'Keefe, Peters, Polodna…" I'm like, "Wait, where's my name?" Turns out there was a special Team 6, run by both Senior DIs from Platoons 4000 and 4001, comprised of the top nine of each platoon. As SDI Sgt Renteria said, "Now this team is obviously stacked." Us: "AYE Ma'am!" Renteria: "They said I had to have a team, and I don't want any drama. You know what to do, so get it done."
Them basically they let us do our thing, and with handpicked members it was AWESOME. The whole Crucible is like a combo of the Obstacle Course, the Confidence Course, endurance courses and hiking trails, except all the events are taller, higher, longer, and harder. Several of your teammates are 'casualties;' we have weapons and gear and have to cross the events with ammo cans, water jugs, barrels and people in stretchers.
The hardest part is that it just went on and on and on. Each day consisted of 19 1/2 hours of patrolling, climbing, hoisting each other, and crawling under barbed wire and through sand. One half hour was "field weapons maintenance." The remaining 4 hours were called "sleep time" but all that really meant is that the lights were out and we were tactical (silent with hand signals) while we reapplied cammie paint, fixed our gear and our feet, ate our limited MREs, took 30 minute rifle watches, made head calls and talked (um, tactically?). We were all exhausted, yes, but you sort of get to where you're so busy you don't notice.
It.
Was.
Awesome.
So both nights were 23:00 - 3:00 minus getting ready and packing our gear time. The last morning was a quick 10-mile hump back to the squad bay to Warriors Breakfast. Basically, it's what the males get to eat, only awesome! Real bacon, sausage, ice cream, hot chocolate, cake, bagels, muffins, omelets … soooo gooood.
So a lot of the other teams were extremely jealous that we had both SDIs AND the Gunny. We got candy (once) and they thought we had it really easy because the DIs weren't being that hard on us. This was totally untrue, though. They weren't that hard on us because we were doing EXCEPTIONAL though the Crucible - unlike any other team, we were completing nearly every obstacle within the time limits (female recruits usually don't). And we were doing exceptional because, think about it. The team representing the Senior Drill Instructors and the Series Gunnery Sgt HAS to do well. There was no other option for us if we didn't want to DIE later at the hands of the DIs for not impressing their bosses. We literally ran our asses off, but while we were more physically broke off than the other groups, I will say that they could be jealous of us mentally. No drama in our team, no bickering, positive attitudes all around. We were loving it.
The second day we did pugil sticks against Team 5, and I have never seen such aggressive behavior. SDI warns us "I don't want to see any wussy fights" and then we notice all these officers are out to watch - the Series Commander 1st Lt. Griswold, the Company Commander Captain Hasley, the Company 1st Sgt. Sanderson, Gunny Hilton and both SDIs. So we knew we had to put on a show. And we did. The officers were LOVING it. We beat the shit out of each other.
Christmas Day. Training Day 54.
Merry Christmas Mom and Dad! Boot camp ends in just two and a half weeks, and it's kinda weird. They say that we'll all suffer from boot camp withdrawal, and I believe it. I'm already feeling fat and lazy with this holiday and that was only two days of the DIs giving us a half-break. Imagine NO DIs! We got five hours - four in the morning and one in the evening - on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to watch movies, pack for the Crucible, shower, square ourselves away, AND got good chow AND an extra 1 1/2 hours of sleep AND the DIs are relaxed AND we haven't PTed or exercised or gotten quarterdecked or drilled, and I'm bored out of my mind. I'm totally ready to do SOMETHING but after the Crucible boot camp is pretty much winding down.
You know what I'll really miss is hearing the DIs sing to their platoons. It's the best in the mornings. We get out of the house and form it up on the catwalk; it's early morning and all dark and quiet, and a little chilly, and all across the island you can hear the drill instructors singing the cadence ("left…left…left, right" only it sounds like "loeft…loeft… a-loeft right..a loeft right…"), a lot of voices far away singing and calling their platoons. It's kind of … I'm not sure how to explain it. When you're in formation you listen to that one voice, even if another DI calls a command nearby you have to know whether to respond or not, and it's this stability thing. They say, "Drill is about discipline. If you have discipline you can drill" but it's also about trust. That voice has the singular control over 59 bodies, 59 bodies who respond immediately and without question to the voice's calls. The DI calls from behind the platoon, so if we're getting closer and closer to something, we have to trust that the DI knows when to turn us. Drill teaches instance obedience without question - you hear the order and execute it, because just like REAL orders, if you don't you'll mess up the formation, and then go and get your buddies killed in Iraq.
I can see why most Marines don't like most female Marines. A lot of my platoon doesn't really take things seriously -- gaffing off drill, falling asleep in class, not being really into land nav - I guess what the DIs say is really true: A lot of us are going to get into the fleet and make it only because a male carried our packs.
Not me.
You know what I'll really miss is hearing the DIs sing to their platoons. It's the best in the mornings. We get out of the house and form it up on the catwalk; it's early morning and all dark and quiet, and a little chilly, and all across the island you can hear the drill instructors singing the cadence ("left…left…left, right" only it sounds like "loeft…loeft… a-loeft right..a loeft right…"), a lot of voices far away singing and calling their platoons. It's kind of … I'm not sure how to explain it. When you're in formation you listen to that one voice, even if another DI calls a command nearby you have to know whether to respond or not, and it's this stability thing. They say, "Drill is about discipline. If you have discipline you can drill" but it's also about trust. That voice has the singular control over 59 bodies, 59 bodies who respond immediately and without question to the voice's calls. The DI calls from behind the platoon, so if we're getting closer and closer to something, we have to trust that the DI knows when to turn us. Drill teaches instance obedience without question - you hear the order and execute it, because just like REAL orders, if you don't you'll mess up the formation, and then go and get your buddies killed in Iraq.
I can see why most Marines don't like most female Marines. A lot of my platoon doesn't really take things seriously -- gaffing off drill, falling asleep in class, not being really into land nav - I guess what the DIs say is really true: A lot of us are going to get into the fleet and make it only because a male carried our packs.
Not me.
Christmas Eve, Training Day 54 (almost)
Happy Holidays! Today has been a pretty lazy and laid back day. First church, then we got cammie stockings to hang on our racks from some parent, and then we watched The Incredibles.
We had a few movies to pick from and Senior DI was like, Alright, I'm going to let you watch the one that gets the loudest 'Aye ma'am'" and went on to mention that The Incredibles was "an awesome movie" so what other one would we pick? Of course we screamed for that one, and she even broke her bearing and smiled.
Then we made her a throne out of footlockers and blankets.
SDI: … What the hell is that?
Us: A throne, ma'am.
SDI: ……..
Us: *giggling*
SDI: I don't need a throne. I have a throne everywhere I walk.
Us: AYE ma'am!
We could tell she liked it, though.
We had a few movies to pick from and Senior DI was like, Alright, I'm going to let you watch the one that gets the loudest 'Aye ma'am'" and went on to mention that The Incredibles was "an awesome movie" so what other one would we pick? Of course we screamed for that one, and she even broke her bearing and smiled.
Then we made her a throne out of footlockers and blankets.
SDI: … What the hell is that?
Us: A throne, ma'am.
SDI: ……..
Us: *giggling*
SDI: I don't need a throne. I have a throne everywhere I walk.
Us: AYE ma'am!
We could tell she liked it, though.
Training Day 52
It is wet and cold and all of our things are soaked. Our barracks here at A-line are half outdoors so that doesn't help matters. Nonetheless, spirits are high. We went to the range again, but instead of firing our M16s, we fired 2 other weapons. The first was an AT4, this bazooka like rocket-launcher that actually wasn't nearly as cool as it looked. The second, though - oh God, the second. This beautiful gun was called an M249. It's about the same size as the M16 though not nearly as pretty. It fires automatically. We were supposed to fire in couple-second bursts, but after a little I got carried away and just shot all my rounds off continuously. The range officers thought this was hysterical. I think they found me refreshing, as most of the other girls were firing in 1-2 burst shots.
Who, when given a SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon, aka machine gun), fires only 1-2 rounds in one burst? It was AWESOME!
Who, when given a SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon, aka machine gun), fires only 1-2 rounds in one burst? It was AWESOME!
Training Day 47
Actually Training Day 47 ish-51 ish. It's A-line, where we fire combat-style. I actually don't like it as much as marksmanship but it's still fun. We shoot in full gear - kevlars, flak jackets, full muster war gear - which makes it awkward at best. My flak jacket is way too huge so it's weird. And heavy.
Training Day 46
DI Sgt. Collins is back from her leave and it's great because she is awesome. She's super-strict but in a good way. Some DI's make you do stupid things, but when she does shit to us you can see the reason for it and you learn from it. Yesterday and the day before we had three extra DIs. One's still at DI School, training. It was INSANE. We spent the entire square away time frozen because people in my platoon are idiots. The extra DIs didn't let us get away with shit. It was totally cool. I was mostly squared away but they did call me on the Irish Pendants (little strings and threads) on my cammies.
I'm looking forward to seeing you guys. I have a stress fracture in my foot that is KILLING me but I'm not saying shit. I'm 90% certain that stress fractures are automatic drops and not a snowball's chance in hell am I letting myself drop. I just suck it up and roll my foot when I walk. The DI's haven't said anything yet.
I'm looking forward to seeing you guys. I have a stress fracture in my foot that is KILLING me but I'm not saying shit. I'm 90% certain that stress fractures are automatic drops and not a snowball's chance in hell am I letting myself drop. I just suck it up and roll my foot when I walk. The DI's haven't said anything yet.
Morgan's Letter
Now here's a copy of the letter to Morgan describing what happened to the little knitted platypus Morgan sent her.
Dear Morgan:
I'm sending this letter to you through my mom who hopefully has your addy because I don't have time to tell this story twice.
So I get your package, right, and since we're not supposed to get anything but letters I get in the "I'll be putting my stuff in a bag with my name on it" formation during mail call. I open the package and there's the book and the platypus. I didn't really have time to think - I chucked the book under a desk and turned in the platypus. (I had to turn in something because they knew I got a package, but I wished later I'd done it the other way around). My DI sees what I have and of course takes the bag. I later go back and get the book but I'm wondering how I'm going to get my platypus back. There's NO WAY the DI's will let me have it but I like to maintain positive control of my belongings. Eventually I come up with a plan and when it's our senior drill instructor's duty night I act. I go up and bang on her hatch.
Me: *bang bang bang*
SDI: What?
Me: Good evening ladies! Excuse Recruit Oltman, Senior Drill Instructor Sgt. Renteria ma'am!
SDI: WHAT?!?!
Me: Recruit Oltman requests permission to have her spirit animal for devotions ma'am!
SDI: Your spirit animal?
Me: Yes ma'am. This recruit was sent it in the mail for devos ma'am.
SDI: Stand by.
She's never seen anything like this before. She rummages around in the footlocker where confiscated things are kept and when she comes back she HURLS it to the deck and goes, "I don't even WANT to know" and slams the hatch.
So then it's devos and since I said it was a spirit animal, there I am with the platypus on my lap praying over it while everyone around me is cracking up.
Mission: A success. Operation Rescue Platypus (now named Corporal Perry) completed.
Oltman out, yo.
Dear Morgan:
I'm sending this letter to you through my mom who hopefully has your addy because I don't have time to tell this story twice.
So I get your package, right, and since we're not supposed to get anything but letters I get in the "I'll be putting my stuff in a bag with my name on it" formation during mail call. I open the package and there's the book and the platypus. I didn't really have time to think - I chucked the book under a desk and turned in the platypus. (I had to turn in something because they knew I got a package, but I wished later I'd done it the other way around). My DI sees what I have and of course takes the bag. I later go back and get the book but I'm wondering how I'm going to get my platypus back. There's NO WAY the DI's will let me have it but I like to maintain positive control of my belongings. Eventually I come up with a plan and when it's our senior drill instructor's duty night I act. I go up and bang on her hatch.
Me: *bang bang bang*
SDI: What?
Me: Good evening ladies! Excuse Recruit Oltman, Senior Drill Instructor Sgt. Renteria ma'am!
SDI: WHAT?!?!
Me: Recruit Oltman requests permission to have her spirit animal for devotions ma'am!
SDI: Your spirit animal?
Me: Yes ma'am. This recruit was sent it in the mail for devos ma'am.
SDI: Stand by.
She's never seen anything like this before. She rummages around in the footlocker where confiscated things are kept and when she comes back she HURLS it to the deck and goes, "I don't even WANT to know" and slams the hatch.
So then it's devos and since I said it was a spirit animal, there I am with the platypus on my lap praying over it while everyone around me is cracking up.
Mission: A success. Operation Rescue Platypus (now named Corporal Perry) completed.
Oltman out, yo.
Training Day 44
Mom, please forward Morgan's letter to her after making a copy for yourself. I didn't want to write it twice. She sent me a book and a tiny knitted platypus for my birthday. Things are good here. A new catch phrase is "You're about dumb," which we got from the DIs and it's hysterical to say to each other.
One thing I didn't mention about the rifle range - and maybe this is what happened with my DI when she thought she saw a rifle off the rack - are the ghosts. I swear they're there. See, there's a river, Ribbon River, that runs by the range. Some years ago during Firing Week a male DI marched his platoon through it during the night and a whole bunch of recruits drowned. The legend has it that they stay on the range and in the barracks at weapons, having never qualified. It would explain some stuff, like the time the fire watch counted an extra body in the racks, and things like that.
The DIs are psycho. Today especially, Sgt. Andrew was fricking NUTS. I'm not sure what her deal is; there's a difference between how the DIs act and you can tell. They all DO the same things - quarterdecking us and so on - but Sgt. Andrew somehow does it further, like the way you'd torture a POW. I'm not sure how to explain it but she has a very unstable vibe. I'm not afraid of nor do I dislike very many people, and I LOVE three of my DIs, but I really dislike and find totally unnecessary Sgt. Andrew. She doesn't even instill discipline in how she goes about doing things, just a lack of motivation. It's stupid.
Ha ha, at Religious Ed, we ran into some new girls and they were like, "We're on Training Day 5" and we just burst out tittering and "Oh man"-ing. Training Day FIVE! Losers. The crazy part is I remember the EXACT SAME thing happening to me when I was at church on TD5. And when they're on TD40 they'll be at church and meet the new TD5 females and titter and …
Nothing changes but the names.
One interesting thing I've gotten from boot camp is the verbal repetition. I LOVE things like that; I always have. They're just sort of reassuring, like how Grandpa and I will be talking about food - he'll always say, "I can almost taste it now" and I always say, "It'll be so good." Things like that I enjoy but unfortunately most people get sick of it so I don't get an opportunity. Here at boot camp though you get all KINDS of it.
DI: Pick 'em up!
Rcts: Boot top high!
DI: Point your toes!
Rcts: To the deck!
DI: Let me hear that –
Rcts: THUNDER!
DI: Let me hear that –
Rcts: BOOM!
DI: Lean back!
Rcts: At the waist!
DI: Lean back!
Rcts: And strut!
DI: Elbows tight!
Rcts: Rifles right!
DI: Walk that tightrope!
Rcts: Left over right!
DI: Walk that tightrope!
Rcts: Tight tight tight!
DI: WALK THAT TIGHTROPE!
Rcts: CRACK THAT WHIP!
DI: Alignments to the-
Rcts: Right!
DI: And cover's to the –
Rcts: Front!
DI: 40 inches!
Rcts: Back to chest!
DI: Four recruits!
Rcts: Side by side!
Anyway, you get the idea. I find it great and very reassuring. Verbal repetition when both parties are happily and intently involved is my … my calming activity or whatever you want to call it, and we get a ton of it at boot camp.
One thing I didn't mention about the rifle range - and maybe this is what happened with my DI when she thought she saw a rifle off the rack - are the ghosts. I swear they're there. See, there's a river, Ribbon River, that runs by the range. Some years ago during Firing Week a male DI marched his platoon through it during the night and a whole bunch of recruits drowned. The legend has it that they stay on the range and in the barracks at weapons, having never qualified. It would explain some stuff, like the time the fire watch counted an extra body in the racks, and things like that.
The DIs are psycho. Today especially, Sgt. Andrew was fricking NUTS. I'm not sure what her deal is; there's a difference between how the DIs act and you can tell. They all DO the same things - quarterdecking us and so on - but Sgt. Andrew somehow does it further, like the way you'd torture a POW. I'm not sure how to explain it but she has a very unstable vibe. I'm not afraid of nor do I dislike very many people, and I LOVE three of my DIs, but I really dislike and find totally unnecessary Sgt. Andrew. She doesn't even instill discipline in how she goes about doing things, just a lack of motivation. It's stupid.
Ha ha, at Religious Ed, we ran into some new girls and they were like, "We're on Training Day 5" and we just burst out tittering and "Oh man"-ing. Training Day FIVE! Losers. The crazy part is I remember the EXACT SAME thing happening to me when I was at church on TD5. And when they're on TD40 they'll be at church and meet the new TD5 females and titter and …
Nothing changes but the names.
One interesting thing I've gotten from boot camp is the verbal repetition. I LOVE things like that; I always have. They're just sort of reassuring, like how Grandpa and I will be talking about food - he'll always say, "I can almost taste it now" and I always say, "It'll be so good." Things like that I enjoy but unfortunately most people get sick of it so I don't get an opportunity. Here at boot camp though you get all KINDS of it.
DI: Pick 'em up!
Rcts: Boot top high!
DI: Point your toes!
Rcts: To the deck!
DI: Let me hear that –
Rcts: THUNDER!
DI: Let me hear that –
Rcts: BOOM!
DI: Lean back!
Rcts: At the waist!
DI: Lean back!
Rcts: And strut!
DI: Elbows tight!
Rcts: Rifles right!
DI: Walk that tightrope!
Rcts: Left over right!
DI: Walk that tightrope!
Rcts: Tight tight tight!
DI: WALK THAT TIGHTROPE!
Rcts: CRACK THAT WHIP!
DI: Alignments to the-
Rcts: Right!
DI: And cover's to the –
Rcts: Front!
DI: 40 inches!
Rcts: Back to chest!
DI: Four recruits!
Rcts: Side by side!
Anyway, you get the idea. I find it great and very reassuring. Verbal repetition when both parties are happily and intently involved is my … my calming activity or whatever you want to call it, and we get a ton of it at boot camp.
Sunday, day after Training Day 41
Okay, I didn't want to talk about the rifle range before in case I unked, but since I didn't, let's talk about how fricking AWESOME it was.
So on the first day we did the grouping exercise, which I sucked at because I totally forgot all the fundamentals of marksmanship (correct sight alignment and trigger control) and just shot and it was GREAT! Then the next day we go out and start to work on the course of fire we'll be using on Qual Day and it turns out I don't really suck; my rifle's just weird. While most people have their sights set to 4 clicks right or 3 clicks left, for example, I have to use 28 right before I can hit the target.
Now, usually most people get up there and if they've never really shot before like I haven't they have a hard time. They get really nervous. The PMIs push PMAs (Positive Mental Attitudes) to keep you calm and focused. Me? I never needed mine. I totally forgot about mine. As soon as I was seated down in my position and I looked through the sights, there wasn't anything else there. It was just me and my rifle and the black. I'm a total natural - it was EASY. I can't really explain how it feels. You're like in this zone, and I knew where every shot was going to go. Even the ones where I knew I'd jerked, I knew where they'd hit.
The first course of fire is 15 shots in 20 minutes - 5 sitting, 5 kneeling, and 5 standing. You might go, "Oh, that's easy" but no. By the time you adjust your sling, fix the weapon jams, take your shot, plot your shot, wait for the target to reappear, plot your score, and re-aim, plus change your position every five shots, 20 minutes has gone by and you've still got 'saved rounds' - shots you never fired. The 20-minute slow fire I usually ended at 17 minutes fairly regularly and I was one of the first ones in the 1st relay done.
Next is 200-yard rapid fire from standing to sitting (you stand, load, wait for the target then drop to sitting position, aim and get off 10 rounds). Then they pull the targets and score them. Ten shots in the black is called a 'possible' and is hard. I got a possible on goal day, the only one in 1st relay to have it.
Next we move to the 300-yard line and take five slow fire shots in the sitting position in five minutes then ten rapid-fire shots from standing to prone. During slow fire you usually adjust your sights while you're firing to compensate for the wind.
Finally - and up to here I'd been doing nicely - we go back to the 500-yard line for ten slow fire shots in the prone position in ten minutes. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Black. Black. Black. Black. Then after my 6th shot the target comes back scored with a 2 -- nine shots in the black and one 2. I think the person scoring my target screwed up and marked the wrong shot because I KNOW I shot 10 black, but oh well. My final score was still expert, the highest rating you can get of the four.
220-250: Expert
210-219: Sharpshooter
190-209: Marksman
0-189: Unked!
Hoorah! So yea, I'm pretty pleased with that. Platoon 4000 with 12 unks took the rifle range from Platoon 4001, which had 17. This means we got a trophy and got to keep our series guidon. Losers.
Later that evening I get back to our original squad bay and have to bolt out for chow because the Catholics are going to the Immaculate Conception mass. Sadly I was all alone so I got what that guy I wrote about in my other letter got - "This recruit doesn't have a buddy!" "This recruit is all alone!"
I've been really focused on coming back home, but really it's just ten days of vacation before I go to my new duty station and new home. I'm thinking that after my five years are up I may re-enlist, or maybe come back, during my service work toward a degree, and after try for a job in (classified info removed by editor). It's a long way away though obviously. It's weird though; before I wouldn't be thinking so far in advance but now I am.
Every year I'll have to re-qualify on the rifle range so I think once I'm settled in school in California, I'll look into buying an AR-whatever, the civilian version of the M16. I won't be issued one in school but I'll need one to practice. I fully even intend to become an expert-expert, maybe even be a PMI some day. They really aren't even all that expensive, either, something like $500. Somehow I was thinking that a semi-automatic weapon would be more. It's actually a bit alarming that that rifle can be purchased by any fool with a few hundred bucks in his pocket.
So on the first day we did the grouping exercise, which I sucked at because I totally forgot all the fundamentals of marksmanship (correct sight alignment and trigger control) and just shot and it was GREAT! Then the next day we go out and start to work on the course of fire we'll be using on Qual Day and it turns out I don't really suck; my rifle's just weird. While most people have their sights set to 4 clicks right or 3 clicks left, for example, I have to use 28 right before I can hit the target.
Now, usually most people get up there and if they've never really shot before like I haven't they have a hard time. They get really nervous. The PMIs push PMAs (Positive Mental Attitudes) to keep you calm and focused. Me? I never needed mine. I totally forgot about mine. As soon as I was seated down in my position and I looked through the sights, there wasn't anything else there. It was just me and my rifle and the black. I'm a total natural - it was EASY. I can't really explain how it feels. You're like in this zone, and I knew where every shot was going to go. Even the ones where I knew I'd jerked, I knew where they'd hit.
The first course of fire is 15 shots in 20 minutes - 5 sitting, 5 kneeling, and 5 standing. You might go, "Oh, that's easy" but no. By the time you adjust your sling, fix the weapon jams, take your shot, plot your shot, wait for the target to reappear, plot your score, and re-aim, plus change your position every five shots, 20 minutes has gone by and you've still got 'saved rounds' - shots you never fired. The 20-minute slow fire I usually ended at 17 minutes fairly regularly and I was one of the first ones in the 1st relay done.
Next is 200-yard rapid fire from standing to sitting (you stand, load, wait for the target then drop to sitting position, aim and get off 10 rounds). Then they pull the targets and score them. Ten shots in the black is called a 'possible' and is hard. I got a possible on goal day, the only one in 1st relay to have it.
Next we move to the 300-yard line and take five slow fire shots in the sitting position in five minutes then ten rapid-fire shots from standing to prone. During slow fire you usually adjust your sights while you're firing to compensate for the wind.
Finally - and up to here I'd been doing nicely - we go back to the 500-yard line for ten slow fire shots in the prone position in ten minutes. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Black. Black. Black. Black. Then after my 6th shot the target comes back scored with a 2 -- nine shots in the black and one 2. I think the person scoring my target screwed up and marked the wrong shot because I KNOW I shot 10 black, but oh well. My final score was still expert, the highest rating you can get of the four.
220-250: Expert
210-219: Sharpshooter
190-209: Marksman
0-189: Unked!
Hoorah! So yea, I'm pretty pleased with that. Platoon 4000 with 12 unks took the rifle range from Platoon 4001, which had 17. This means we got a trophy and got to keep our series guidon. Losers.
Later that evening I get back to our original squad bay and have to bolt out for chow because the Catholics are going to the Immaculate Conception mass. Sadly I was all alone so I got what that guy I wrote about in my other letter got - "This recruit doesn't have a buddy!" "This recruit is all alone!"
I've been really focused on coming back home, but really it's just ten days of vacation before I go to my new duty station and new home. I'm thinking that after my five years are up I may re-enlist, or maybe come back, during my service work toward a degree, and after try for a job in (classified info removed by editor). It's a long way away though obviously. It's weird though; before I wouldn't be thinking so far in advance but now I am.
Every year I'll have to re-qualify on the rifle range so I think once I'm settled in school in California, I'll look into buying an AR-whatever, the civilian version of the M16. I won't be issued one in school but I'll need one to practice. I fully even intend to become an expert-expert, maybe even be a PMI some day. They really aren't even all that expensive, either, something like $500. Somehow I was thinking that a semi-automatic weapon would be more. It's actually a bit alarming that that rifle can be purchased by any fool with a few hundred bucks in his pocket.
Posting Break
The blog's editors took a long long posting break there for a while and left this blog to its own devices. We're going to pick back up again and finish posting the letters home.
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