Edit 10/27/2007: Despite this blog being a personal place for me to rant and rave about life, it seems a few U.S. Marines have accidentally stumbled across this post, which was really a very personal rant.
It seems clear to me based on a couple of responses I’ve received that some Marines are taking my post as a direct attack on them and they feel the need to attack me personally in response. Well, to start with, I have nothing but respect for those who choose to serve. Serving is a hard thing, and is something they ought to be proud of. This post was never meant as an attack, and it’s unfortunate that anybody had taken it that way.
If they take my post and read it out of context (which can’t be helped, since they don’t know me) I suppose I can see how someone might take offense. Since the purpose of the post was not to offend, I’ve decided to remove the main portion of the rant.
All that is left now is what follows, a few important words that will help anybody from my old boot platoon find me, should they look.
January 16, 1994, I flew out to San Diego, California to start Marine Corps basic training. All was well until I made the mistake of going to see the Chaplain. That started a chain reaction that resulted in my being sent home… just two weeks before my platoon’s graduation. (edit: the question has been asked, “Why didn’t you just re-enlist?” I had originally planned to. But I was in a motorcycle accident shortly after getting home that left me physically disabled.)
Platoon 1106 1st Battalion Bravo Company MCRD San DiegoDrill Instructors:
Senior Drill Instructor Sergeant Lennon
Drill Instructor Sergeant Newton (perhaps the finest Marine I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Lebedeff (called away to become a swimming instructor)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Richardson (called away to MRP)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Jamison (fresh out of DI school when we got him, he was called away to another platoon)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Milton (replaced the DI’s we lost at the end of first phase)
Graduation date: April 8, 1994
Yes, I remember this after all these years. I had such respect for most of my drill instructors (and such hatred for one of them) that I remember their names, faces, mannerisms, voices, and more.
Platoon recruits whose names I remember:
Murray (platoon guide), Brookes (my squad leader), Fox, Pendleton (who had a large wooden frame slammed into his shin by one of the drill instructors), Russell Greenidge (whom I later became close friends with), and of course Dorman, Plourde, and Zetterquist with whom I flew out of Salt Lake.
I remember the faces of so many others, but have just forgotten their names.