I enlisted into the Marine Corps and shipped to boot camp on February 17th 2015. Why?
Well- for a few reasons but they all boil down to the following: it was the only ensured way to escape the life I was born into and a lot- I mean a LOT of spite.
I was working night shift at the local CVS Pharmacy for three months before I accepted that I was not going get away from my family earning only $8.20 an hour for only two 9 hour shifts a week. When I caught hints that I was about to be fired for not being fast enough stocking shelves, I gave my two weeks notice and immediately set my eyes on the military.
Since I had dated someone who joined the Marine Corps. I learned through observation that he got paid consistently no matter how hard he worked, free health and dental care, a roof over his head, three meals a day, and was shipped to Japan; the farthest possible place I could think of from California.
While I knew I wanted to enlist and get as far away from my family as I possibly could, I wasn’t sure which branch was the best fit for me. Navy and Coast Guard was immediately out because I fear the ocean. The Air Force recruiters I talked to were rude and dismissive so they were out. One of my uncles was in the Army so I immediately wanted to avoid them as well. That left the Marine Corps.
I wasn’t settled on a decision though, so I looked at what information was available on the Marine Corps official website. Specifically, I wanted to know what kind of jobs they offered and which ones I could actually see myself doing well. The website was full of videos showing military members in the field and focused on how with them, you will finally belong. I settled on Administration because I grew up on computers and absolutely loved the idea and getting paid to sit at a desk and use a computer.
At one point while on their website I had entered my information to request more information. I expected an email or a phone call, however, what I got was a strange man in uniform at the front door the next day. I didn’t answer the door, like usual. Instead I went into my mother’s room where the window overlooked the porch to peak through the blinds to see who it was. I pretended like no one was home as usual until he left. Despite this making me uncomfortable, I went into the recruiting office on my own terms the next day.
I learned the man who showed up at the house was Sergeant Stalker… how ironic. He also became my recruiter when I told him I wanted to enlist and went through all the questions and provided all the information I needed to. In order to be able to enlist, I had to get a waiver for my asthma. This process took almost an entire year. During this year I showed up to the recruiting office twice a week for Physical Training (PT) in order to pass the initial physical tests to even be allowed to ship to boot camp. By the time I got the waiver, I was able to pass these tests with flying colors due to my dedication.
However, I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to go into reserves or active duty. When I told my family that I was thinking about joining the military, their reactions made me angry and spiteful. One of my aunt’s, who is married to the uncle in the Army, said I’d have to get my head shaved off which I knew wasn’t even true but the audacity alone annoyed me. My step-father said I was too weak to make it through boot camp and in the same breathe mentioned how he was denied enrollment into the Navy for an old wrestling injury. That’s when I decided I wasn’t going into the reserves, I was going active duty and leaving next month.
Boot camp was three months of constant emotional, physiological, and physical torture.
While my memory of boot camp is hazy -most likely due to the fact I was dissociated the entire time- receiving week was memorable. From the buses that took us to the base where we weren’t allowed to look anywhere but our laps, we were rushed to stand on yellow footprints just outside the station despite the cold of early February in South Carolina, Paris Island. We waited for what felt like hours before being brought inside in a single file line and into school desks. This is where we signed paperwork including beneficiary paperwork to decide who would get the $400,000 they put on the value of your life if you perished while “serving your country”.
To be continued…
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