too. All of my academic grades are passing, but they are low passing. My academic average is seventy-five for three tests. Seventy is passing.
Part of the evaluation process includes peer evaluations. Peer evaluations are important and stressful. Each of us has to rank everyone else in the platoon from the best, number one, to the worst, number sixty-three, if that is the number of candidates in the platoon. They play a significant role in who stays and who doesn’t.
Jan. 12, 1969
This has really been a busy week. We had an overnight compass course Monday. Naturally, it snowed Monday night, and we froze. The march to the compass course was unbelievable. I call it march facetiously because we had to run the whole way to keep up. Only twelve of us in my platoon and seven in another platoon made it! The drill instructors got us up at 4:30 Tuesday morning to march home.
Tuesday. We had the confidence course. That wasn’t too bad. Wednesday, we had the speed march reaction course. That involved running about three-and-a-half miles, over hills, and then solving a problem at the end. This is all done after running the obstacle course.
Today, we were issued clothing in the morning, practiced marching, and had physical training in the afternoon. It was a killer. I was hurting and so was everyone else. We spent all evening cleaning the barracks. I am really tired. Tonight from 1 a.m. to 3 a.m., I have to get up and stand guard in the parking lot. Then tomorrow, we have either a seven- or nine-mile hike, mostly a run. I have a few minutes, so I think I will take a quick shower.
Friday morning. Right now, I am sitting in a first aid class, waiting for it to begin. They are supposed to show a really gory movie. I don’t think I will watch.
That movie was gross! It showed doctors fixing up a man who had both legs blown off, was blind, and his face burned black. Ugh! The movie actually pictured the surgeons amputating his legs, peeling off his skin, and removing his eyes. The guy next to me fainted and fell out of his chair. Another guy keeled over while standing in formation outside. The movie was graphic and gory but ended by noting that the subject married his nurse. I guess that tidbit was to provide a little bit of hope to an otherwise truly gloomy scenario.
Either tonight or tomorrow, I will be candidate platoon sergeant. It is a very hot place to be because sometimes they really dump on you. I hope I get by okay.
Saturday. I was candidate platoon sergeant, and I survived! I am a nervous wreck but still alive. My bunkmate’s knee has gotten pretty bad. I am not sure he will be able to finish the program. I sure hope he can. He is a great guy. Since we have started, we have lost twenty-three people. Wow, quite a few! Before we are through, we will probably lose five or six more.
The duty drill instructor caught a guy in my platoon smoking. He had to put a trash can over his head and smoke a whole pack of cigarettes, three at a time. By the time he finished, he was throwing up all over everything.
I didn’t go to Washington. My bunkmate, Denny, couldn’t leave because he is hurt, and I didn’t want to go without him. Well, I am pretty tired, as usual, so I think I will go to bed.
Jan. 16, 1969
We lost another candidate. We were standing in front of our bunks about 5:30 a.m., waiting for morning physical training. This guy just keeled over and passed out. They wheeled him away in an ambulance, unconscious. That was the last we saw of him.
It is Wednesday of the seventh week. Another week, and the tough part will be over. I can hardly wait. I am having a hard time keeping the proper attitude toward the physical part of this program. Even though things have been easier physically lately, I have to make myself keep going. Maybe they have just worn my body down, or maybe I am just tired of it, or both. Besides, I am pretty sure of making it. I got a satisfactory chit for platoon sergeant, my first, which is really a big deal.
The discipline around here isn’t letting up any. The word is that we are an experimental group, and they are hitting discipline pretty hard. Supposedly, the other platoons stress teamwork, but our platoon stresses individual performance.
I am tired constantly. We have had a little time the last two nights. I hope it keeps up. Last night for punishment, we did four hundred jumping jacks, one hundred squat thrusts, one hundred leg lifts, and twenty-five push-ups. This is plus regular physical training where we run three miles or better and do a bunch of other exercises.
Jan. 17, 1969
I am sitting here in the squad bay while the rest of the troops are out on a hike. I kind of finked out. I have an infected toe that has been bothering me for the last few weeks. Yesterday, I could hardly walk. We had two short hikes, so I went to sick bay today. I was relieved to get out of the hike. However, Sergeant Howard, our cadre platoon sergeant, threw a guilt trip on me by telling me how disappointed in me he was for missing the hike, staying back with the other malingerers. My words, not his.
Coming from him, it meant something. We all think Staff Sergeant Howard and Lieutenant Long are great role models. Staff Sergeant Howard has a wicked and subtle sense of humor. Laughing or making any noise during an inspection invites personal disaster. However, it is very difficult to keep a straight face listening to the comments Staff Sergeant Howard directs to the various individuals he is inspecting. The exception, of course, would be when he directs his comments to you. That is to be avoided at all costs!
On one occasion, we were all standing at attention, waiting to be inspected. Our equipment was laid out behind us on our bunks. Staff Sergeant Howard slowly proceeded down the row of bunks, examining our equipment and each of us. I held my breath as he passed by me. Two bunks down something caught his eye. He stopped abruptly, squared up on candidate Jones (not his name), grabbed the candidate’s rifle, turned it up, looked down the barrel, whipped it back to check the action, and upside down to look at the butt plate. All the while, he continued to comment about the increasing amount of sand he was seeing. The amount of sand grew with each new exclamation. By the time Staff Sergeant Howard was finished with candidate Jones, you would swear that candidate Jones had brought the beach in with him and was standing waist deep in sand. It was very funny but to utter a sound would be to invite a personal catastrophe. Ultimately, candidate Jones got caught smoking on fire watch. He was shipped off to Parris Island the following day to train as an enlisted Marine.
Another time, Staff Sergeant Howard was holding a class on protocol. One candidate, brave soul that he was, asked a question. Staff Sergeant Howard responded, “What are you asking me, candidate? Are you trying to bait me, candidate?” Staff Sergeant Howard’s voice elevated, “Are you?” The candidate was doing his best to deny the whole situation, wishing, no doubt, he had never asked the question. Staff Sergeant Howard continued more calmly, “You know, candidate, if you continue to bait me, you will become a master baiter. Is that what you want, candidate, to be known as the masturbator?” Despite a lot of faces red with suppressed laughter among the rest of us, not a sound was heard.
Lt. Long stayed cool and aloof. He knew how to wear the uniform. When we finally achieved a status where we could put on our greens, he provided all the tips on how to make the uniform look just right on us. We wanted our uniforms to look as good on us as his did on him. He also attempted to pass along some of his wisdom gained in Vietnam. In one instance, he talked about his platoon taking fire and how, rather than reacting immediately, he would take a minute to review his options. He considered what he had done the last time he took fire before deciding on a course of action. Never having been in that situation, we were all ears.
It seems to me quite a few guys could be kicked out the tenth week. That would sure be crummy. They told Denny Cox, my bunkmate, they would graduate him no matter what if he could get the doctor’s okay on his knee. He was a great officer candidate. As it turned out, though, his knee didn’t hold up, and he was discharged.
Jan. 20, 1969
Right now, we are giving our impromptu speeches. I just gave mine on “While we are sleeping, could our National Guard really defend us?” Having been in one of the National Guard units sent into the Watts Riots, I had serious doubts, but I guess I did okay on the speech. Yesterday, we had squad tactics. It was miserable. It rained all day. We were soaked, and the hikes there and back were bears. Plus I messed