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I was drafted in July 1967 and went to basic at Fort Gordon, Ga. I had 2 experiences that were unique. First, We are assigned our barracks but could choose the bed. So I am heading for this double bunk wanting to bunk on top and this 250 lb red head from West Virgina thinks he is going to take the top. Well this is the same guy that refused to put his boots on because where he came from they didn't wear shoes. Welcome to basic training. I convinced him to sleep on the bottom bunk. Secondly, after 2-3 weeks of basic this guy decides he wants to commit suicide. So, he takes his razor and slits both his wrists across. Well, several guys run out and return with our drill sargeant. He grabs the guys wrists and says, "If you want to commit suicide please cut your wrists the long way so you bleed out quick". Then tells the kid to go on sick call?!?!?!?! Wow welcome to basic.
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I went to basic training at Ft. Bragg from May 1 through June 30, 1967. I was a lefty, so all the guys who were lefty threw their grenade first. I was fourth in line, the third guy in line dropped his grenade after pulling the pin. The 2nd Lt. that was standing in front of him to ensure he threw the grenade properly, immediatelly threw him out of the way and picked up the grenade and threw it. I was terrified and was shaking when I was getting ready to throw mine, but I was able to pull the pin and throw it without incident. It was just another exciting day at basic training.
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"The Capt. Marvel Story" is one of those urban legends everyone who trained at Ft. Dix during the early 1960's swears is true: A place in the Ft. Dix boonies aptly named "Tank Park" (because tanks were parked there) was a location meriting night-time full-time guard duty. One night a Private was walking guard duty there, when he heard a rustling in the bushes. "Halt, who is there?" "Captain Marvel" came the reply. "Right, and I'm Batman. Drop down in the front-leaning rest position where I can see you." Soldier crawls out of woods. He's got 2 silver bars on his cover. Name tag on his fatigues reads: "Marvel." Trainee cleaned grease traps every day for the duration. Post-script - Several years later, I was reading a letter to the editor of the Trentonian. It was from an army officer stationed at Ft. Dix. Last name: Marvel.
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Colonel Jacobs... Your book "Basic" brought back many memories, both good and not so good... Thanks for writing it. I went into the Army (WACS) at an older age than most, the young recruits called me "old folks". But I think I weathered basic training much better than many of them did. There were even a couple of ex-nuns and they did real well due to their strict past discipline. One recruit had a guitar and brought it up on the later weekends and played "Leaving on a Jet Plane", which we all did. And yes, it was kindof sad when we all parted after all those weeks of being together. I arrived in the middle of the night at Ft. McClellan in December 1971. They issued us an Army green raincoat so we could all look alike (I guess). I was so tired from the travel I sat on the floor with my back to the wall and boy did I get chewed out! I was destroying government property - the raincoat. They asked me what religion I was and I told them what church I went to at home and they said there was none on base and I could go into town on Sunday but I declined, and they were happy I think... I can remember getting into that town (Anniston, Al) only once during basic, and we bought newspapers and read them to see what was going on since we were not allowed to have newspapers or radios. I lost so much weight in basic the sergeant and the Lt. told me to eat more butter.. ?. They kept weighing me. I remember all that marching to cadences such as "Salvation Army... put a nickel in the drum, save another drunken bum". I remember all that starching and ironing. In those days all was starched daily! And ironing was difficult. Those of us who could iron good had to iron the fatigues of the recruits who were poor ironers. To this day I iron virtually nothing, and no starch. Shoe shining, with those little cans of polish, lighters to heighten the shine. And Brass o for our brass. And KP ! We had these plastic rain boots we wore to KP and I wore my civilian shoes in them once vs my army shoes (so I would not harm their shine). Boy if I had been caught. Once we WACS trainees had to work in the officers mess and I found that .... No comment... And that gas chamber, cough cough... State your name and serial number, cough cough. I did very well in basic and got a promotion and was a platoon leader for a week. I think the whole unit got thru - we were Foxtrot. After basic they said I was the luckiest one since I was going to AIT at Ft. Benjamin Harrison. But I had to wait for 2 weeks or so at Ft. McClellan. They asked me if I could type and I said no (I had 4 years of typing in school but I knew enough by that time to say no). They assigned me to the chapel and that was a fun 2 weeks. Basic training was one of the best things I ever did in my life. Even tho' I was older when I went in I learned so many things that I retain to this day. It opened so many doors of opportunity to me. Especially career wise. I belong to several veterans organizations and am proud of my Army experience.
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I greatly enjoyed reading "Basic." It was especially interesting to find out how little basic training has changed over the years- the anecdotes submitted by servicemen and women who underwent basic in recent years are eerily similar to those that date back to the 1950's and 1960's. I took my Army basic training at Fort Jackson in 1961, and a few years ago I wrote a book named "Flint Hill" which contained a detailed description of my basic training experiences and subsequent overseas duty in Italy. Anyone who might be interested in reading it can purchase it from Amazon
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I am currently reading your book "Basic". I have to relate that I was in Navy Boot Camp at Great Lakes starting in April 1972. I was however in the band & I have to admit that for me, though it was 11 weeks until we got enough musicians to form a band, Boot Camp was easy and no where near as difficult as you describe in your book. For instance we never had KP (or galley work) we were divided up to different tasks and myself along with about 10 others were charged for the 2 weeks to keep the visitor center clean and to look "pretty" on Friday afternoons after graduations. As such during the week we had free use of the facilities and shot pool, watched tv, smoked & coked and listened to records. One thought rang clear, we were listening to "Monster" by Steppenwolf and one (RAH-CRUIT) noted that music was the one thing the Navy couldn't take away from us. It wasn't until I saw "Shawshank Redemtion" and Andy's line about Mozart that the beauty of music was all brought back to me. The rest of the Boot Camp time is as described we were abused, physically, tormented verbally, marched everywhere and had our few screw-ups. Our Company Commander (an E-6 Cook) was an alcholoic as well, but he liked me as he never met a person of Portuguese decent. One time my mother sent me some dried fava beans that no one wanted to share (we had to eat anything sent from home before taps). He enquired as to what the stuff was, I gave him one, he spit it out and said that I could keep them in my "personal" locker, so for a few days I was the only one in the company who had snacks. I promptly told my mother to send me more. Sadly when we received our orders upon graduation, half my company was sent to the fleet, in Yokuska and Subic Bay which then meant, Viet-Nam.......... Thank You Colonel,
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Excerpt from personal essay, "Heels For Combat Boots", which discusses the presence of females in the military. We woke early on a frosty morning in November, and joined our sister platoon on the grounds behind our barracks. This was the first day of third phase and to kick-it off, we would hike eight miles into the heart of the swamp where we would spend most of our time during the next four weeks. This was not the type of hike where one follows established trails, enjoying scenery and pausing every so often to drink bottled water and chew on a granola bar. Marines refer to this type of hike as a .hump., and it.s actually a forced march, whereby a Marine is fully loaded with all combat camping gear, including his rifle, helmet and spare boots for a combined weight of nearly 80 lbs, and in many cases much more. As recruits, we were not hauling ammunition as in actual combat. We moved fast, and the trick is to stretch your legs ahead of you and pump with your arms. I.m tall and my long legs carried me forward easily, but several shorter recruits began falling behind, struggling under th e weight of their packs. Mile after mile moans and whimpers could be heard within our formation. We stopped at mile four, where I stood drinking from my canteen and watching as most girls sat panting or crying on top of their packs. Looks of knowing disapproval were exchanged among those of us who stood as we waited for the weak to recover enough resolve to continue. We were embarrassed when a series of male recruits passed by, covering us with trail dust. Their disappointed faces revealed how they saw us; a group of weak, defeated girls playing soldier. If a female Marine claims never to have shared a similar experience during her time in the Corps, I would question her integrity. That evening we found ourselves waiting once more, but now it was for chow which arrived at our camp much later than expected. For fun, we were made to line up along the outside wall of the giant wooden building called a sea-hut, which provides shelter without comfort for large-group training sessions. By now, the late autumn mosquitoes were upon us, yet we stood at attention, calm and unmoving while our instructors walked up and down the line waving cans of bug-juice in our faces. (Government bug-spray, for the record, works alarmingly well and actually smells amazing, like a bracing aftershave.) The DI.s were testing us to see how .hard. we had become, meaning that we were too tough for bug-spray. Of course no one accepted their offers, until Sgt. Lowell got to me. I gladly took the can, and as I proceeded to douse myself with sweet-smelling relief, all eight instructors swarmed about me in disbelief. I resisted the urge to turn the can on them as they got in my face demand ing to know who I thought I was. With all respect and bearing, I answered, .Ma.am, I am hard, not stupid.. It was one of my hallmark moments during training, and while I paid a heavy physical penalty for that remark, I know I won some favor on that long, painful night. Later, before we crawled into our tents, we were informed that one of our platoon sisters fractured her shin on the hump and would not be returning.
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I went to USMC boot camp from Nov, 1967 to Jan, 1968 at MCRD, Parris Island, South Carolina and was a member of platoon 2078. While in boot camp, some interesting events took place that are so vivid that it seems they happened only yesterday. I am currently reading your book, "Basic", and some of the anecdotes you discuss bring back both fond and not so fond memories. I would very much like to reminisce with other recruits from my platoon. Perhaps they remember some of the things that happened that I've forgotten about or maybe they remember some things differently than I do. After I finish reading your book I will submit a few stories that may be amusing, enlightening, memory-jogging or downright disgusting.
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Sir, Outstanding read! After 50 years, it was an eye opener on how things have changes but also have not changes. A definite, "You had to have been there-done that" to understand it all. Seems it made/makes no difference which branch one was in, it all came down to one basic (no pun intended) thing...TEAM WORK. One question, why was the Coast Guard left out? Thank you for an interesting (and fun) book. Bill Eustath USCG '64-'77
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I went to basic training in February 1960 at Ft. Benning Georgia with the 2nd Infantry Div. My story is about the one and only Article 15 I received while in the Army. Sometime after I was issued my M1, I noticed a small crack in the stock. I pointed this out to a corporal who was in charge of our armory room. He then tied a tag attached to a length of string to the front sight, and told me not to fire the weapon when we went to the KD range the following day. In the early morning we hiked many miles through a heavy rain and sticky Georgia clay to the range. During the march, the wind, rain, and possibly my poncho tore the tag off of the front sight. When we arrived at the range, we stacked arms and waited our turn to fire. When my turn came, I explained to my buddy that I needed to use his weapon because I was told not to fire my own. While we were talking my request over, my company commander came over to see what was going on. I told him about the missing tag, bu t he thought that I only wanted to use my buddy's rifle because I didn't want to clean mine. He then took my weapon and fired several rounds using one hand regardless of the cracked stock! After that, he told me to clean up and report to him in class .A. uniform as soon as we got back. At about 1900 that afternoon, I knocked on his door scared out of my mind. I was only eighteen, and didn't know what was going to happen. When he called for me to enter, I saluted and said 'Pvt. Vos reporting as ordered, Sir.' He asked me why I hadn't fired my weapon at the range, and I repeated that the corporal in the armory told me not to, because the cracked stock was too dangerous. The captain then picked up the phone and called the armory room. When the corporal answered, he demanded to know if he had told me not to fire the M1 because of a small crack in the stock. The corporal then said 'no Sir, I never would have told Vos not to use that weapon!' I was so shocked, hurt, and bew ildered, that it must have shown on my face like a red flag! .. After hanging up, the captain looked me in the eye and hinted that he believed my story, but that he had to side with the permanent party cadre. He then gave me an Article 15 which restricted me to base. He also said that it didn't really matter because the Article 15 wouldn.t go into my file, and that we were going into the field for the next ten days anyway. After saluting and being dismissed, I marched right down to the armory room and confronted the corporal. When I asked him to explain why he allowed this to happen, he said and I quote; 'If the captain said the weapon could be fired, then I said it could be fired.' He was too scared of the captain to admit to him that he told me not to use my M1. I was so disgusted by this coward that I decided not to pursue the matter any further, so I took the article 15 and never said another word. It was a life lesson learned, and that.s my true basic training story.
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Attn: Col Jacobs: Re book Basics.P.30: USAF Basic Training: From 1951-1956 besides Lackland, USAF also had a training base at Sampson AFB, Syracuse NY (google wikipedia). Winters at Sampson were burtal and those that took basic there referred to it as "little West Point." I enlisted and served Jan 1959-April 1963. Basic was 3 months. Took basic at Lackland. Much is true of what you say in book about USAF basic not being as strenuous as Army etc. However my basic consisted of a week-end bivouac, slept in tents with 1 blanket person, 1 hour guard duty shifts, dry and live fire with .30 cal carbine, CBR raining/gas masks etc, obstacle course crwaling under barbed wire course, machine guns firing above us, while I crawled towards end, a planted ground bomb/device went off underneath me. It lifted me off ground. My back touched the barbed wire and I remember dirt etc falling around me including my helmet. Bivouac finished with an orienteering course: walking across stream walking and holding on to strung ropes, reading trail signs made from bent sticks, rocks etc. Basic finished with a forced o20 mile overnight hike with fullbackpacks. Enjoyed book. So many memories..A/1C (E-4) Al Cammarata AF13643685
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Went through basic at Ft Leonard Wood and second 8 at Ft. Knox. The barracks at Wood were still the WW2 barracks where snow would drift through the creack onto your blanket each nite and soot would cover your shaved head each day. Ft. Knox was all new buidings and like a different world in efery aspect. Went to basic in Oct 3, 1960 and shipped to Germany in March of 61 where I can truly sau that the 31 months in Germany were some of the best times of my life. Great life-long buddies, beer was a mark (25 cents) per liter flasche, bratwurst polishled he night on the way back to the kaserne. Kennedy was president and young and the West Germans thought he walked on water. What a prould time to be a soldier and representing the greatest country on earth. Spent the first 10 months in the field after arriving. I am so very proud to have served my country but so disgusted with so many people now don't care what the guys in WWII, Korea, 'Nam or the battles being fou ght by our youth in th middle east. I am still proud to fly the stars and stripes each day of my life. I look back on my military servoice with pride and longing to do it all over again with some great buddies and great times. No one outside of the service will ever understand what it is like to live, love and laugh with guys 24 hours a day that may someday save your ass or vice versa.
