US Marine Corps Drill Instructor Vs US Army Drill Sergeant
May 5, 2012 by staff
US Marine Corps Drill Instructor Vs US Army Drill Sergeant, On March 10, 1958, a civilian went down to the Marine Corps recruiting office and enlisted. The recruiter seemed like a comely and personable fellow. He was a Staff Sergeant, and wore modified dress blues: Blue trousers with red NCO stripes down each leg, a tropical shirt, a field scarf (necktie) and a chest full of ribbons. He wore spit-shined shoes and polished brass.
He was a real “poster-boy” for the Marine Corps. At that time you could enlist for two, three, or four years. This Civilian signed up for four. This Civilian figured that in four years, he could learn to be like John Wayne and all the other war movie heroes he had been raised-up on. The recruiter beamed. He assured this civilian that he was bound for Sea School, after successfully completing recruit training.
This civilian departed home for boot camp on February 2, 1958. Away this Civilian went, aboard a Greyhound Bus, bound for the Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD), located in San Diego, California.
There were six of us, and this Civilian was designated to be in charge. This Civilian was given a bundle of paper, which contained everyone’s Service Record Book (SRB). This Civilian was directed to give the SRB’s to the USMC Drill Instructor, when we arrived at the Greyhound Station, in San Diego, California.
This Civilian doesn’t remember our time of arrival, at the Greyhound Station, but it was well after dark. As we got off the bus, we saw another bus (a green one) parked nearby, that had “USMC” and a serial number stenciled in yellow paint on its side.
Inside the green bus, three of the meanest, toughest looking thugs this civilian had ever seen, appeared to be awaiting us. One of them was in the entryway of this green bus and was conversing with the driver. Well, since this Civilian was in charge of these aforementioned six guys, he went right ahead and stepped up into the bus, to hand over the parcel of SRB records.
Little did this sextet of civilians know, but they had just crossed-over into Mother Green’s event horizon. The “thug,” at the front of the green bus, turned around and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His face got red, and this Civilian watched the veins in his neck stand out.
I thought, “Uh, oh”, just as he kicked me in the chest, screaming: “Who the [expletive deleted] told you to get on my bus?”
As this Recruit landed on the pavement at the bottom of the stairs, with all the civilian bystanders edging away, this Recruit realized, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that this was the dumbest thing he had ever done. This Recruit picked himself up off the greasy bus-ramp and limped into formation with the rest of the other twenty or so terrified victims that were already waiting there – waiting to be turned into United States Marines.
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