I got the call with my date to return to MEPS right before starting work at Subway one day. I'll be leaving the next upcoming monday.
I show up around 10:45 this time, to leave at 11:30am. There are a couple other people there. A tall fellow with a bag, and a shorter girl with her mother. I have to fix or update a couple pieces of paperwork with Sgt. Lovett, then I go to meet the other two. The young man's name is Kendrick, he is going to MEPS for the first time for processing. The girl is shipping out to Parris Island. Right after I introduce myself Staff Sergeant Castleberry goes over to her and gives her mother a full brief on what she will be doing for the next 13 weeks. He describes how she will go to MEPS, get a last physical and interview, then depart by bus to Parris Island. He tells mom to expect a last phonecall which will be scripted and hectic. He goes on to talk about each phase of Recruit training, concluding with family day and graduation. I listen in and find the conversation very motivating. The van arrives around 11:30 and the familiar driver Leroy comes in with his clipboard for us to sign in. Then we head out to get in the van. There are three young men (none of whom appear to be in particularly good shape) all surrounded by family members with cameras, and a few with veteran hats. I deduce that they are shipping out too. Kendrick and I claim the backseats for future Marines and sit in the very back with our bags, while the girl who is shipping sits in the seat in front of us. Kendrick and I hit it off pretty quick, we both want to be Marines and that's enough. The girl who is shipping is a little nervous, but clearly has motivation. We encourage her and tell her that we would love to take her place. The three guys in the front of the van turn out to all be shipping to Air Force basic training. They're pretty quiet and we don't really try to talk to them much. Air Force basic is not interesting. Instead Kendrick and I watch videos of Parris Island on our phones and talk about our MOS interests, PT, and boot camp. Along the way we stop off in Pace and pick up two guys and a lady who are shipping to Army boot camp. MEPS is closed for memorial day so at the end of the van ride we are dropped off in front of the splendid Renaissance Hotel. We all go in and up the stairs to the second floor for our briefing. The briefing room is closed and instead we follow the signs to a waiting room till the briefing room opens up at 3pm, there are some twenty other people also in the waiting room. By their "Army Strong" shirts and overheard conversation I conclude that most of them are also shippers. After only about 10 minutes wait, at 3 we all traipse down the hall to the briefing room and find seats. The civilian employee sits at a desk in the corner of the room and instructs everybody to take a form from the first table and fill it out. The form, same as last time, lists the rules of the hotel, which are now familiar to me and almost everybody in the room. I sit at a table with Kendrick, the girl going to the Island, and the army girl we picked up in Pace. We wait for an hour and a half in that room while more and more people arrive, filling the room, then spilling out into the hall sitting on the floor amidst camouflage bags. All the Army and national guard shippers have ACU backpacks and "Army Strong" shirts. I'm ok with this, but I can't imagine wearing or carrying anything with the Marine Corps emblem on it, which I have not yet earned. On a flatscreen on the wall the movie "We Were Soldiers" with Mel Gibson plays. I watch it on and off but the volume is low and the conversation with Kendrick and the two ladies is mostly more interesting. Kendrick donates his phone to allow the Army girl to call her husband.
(The line to sign in to the hotel, most of the young men in this picture are shipping to basic training tomorrow.)
Finally the civilian employee turns off the TV, gets everyone's attention and after a very short briefing we line up to sign in. Kendrick and I wait in line together, meeting and chatting with those around us, who are all shippers. We ask to room together and get keys to a fourth floor room. It is a quarter to 5pm by the time we head up to our room. Dinner starts at five and neither of us have eaten all day, so thats about all we can think about. We drop our bags in our room and then explore the Hotel while waiting for dinner to start serving. We head to the Hotel restaurant right at 5. We bump into a very nerdy looking kid complete with the glasses, wearing an Army Strong shirt. Along the way we strike up conversation. He is shipping tomorrow and makes good company so the three of us sit together at dinner. We all order the cheeseburger and talk about the military. I think we make a very odd group, but the military is a wonderful equalizer. Skin color, background, interests, none of it matters here, not even the branch of the military you're joining. All that matters is your heart to serve and nerdy kid has it. One thing that comes out in our dinner conversation is cause for a great deal of conversation. We're talking about the difference in boot camps, I mention that Ft. Benning is the home of the infantry, that they send all the grunts there. I know a fair bit about Benning because two of my friends went there. Next to Parris Island or MCRD San Diego I'm convinced it is the toughest boot camp in the US Military. I say that I think that only infantry MOS's get sent there, but our nerdy friend announces that he's going for a computer MOS and he's shipping to Benning tomorrow. Kendrick and myself instantly rag all over this poor kid. In fact, he comes up frequently throughout the rest of the night. A nerdy guy with a computer MOS at Benning is going to have a rough time of it with all those testosterone charged infantry guys. We wish him the very best of luck and tell him to stay motivated and don't quit. If he makes it through he'll be the toughest techie ever.
After dinner we go outside for some fresh air, sort of, Kendrick wants a smoke. A very redneck looking young man is smoking in the smoking area out front. Kendrick asks if he can spare one to which the guy replies "what branch you joining?" "Marines" Kendrick says. "Hell yeah I always got a smoke for a Marine!" The fellow drawls. He is joining the National Guard Special Forces program and ships to Ft. Benning tomorrow. We tell him to look after our nerdy friend. Gradually lots more guys come out and conversation is rife with expletives and inappropriate conversation, smokes are lit and smoked prolifically, most of these guys are shipping and are getting their last smoke in. I don't participate in any of that, but there's plenty of good talk about the military too. It is interesting to note the type of people and what they are planning to do in the military. The majority of guys who gather out front are patriots and stand up guys on the whole. One guy is joining the Air Force Pararescue Jumpers, a couple others are Army Infantry. Only one guy that we meet out front is joining the Marines, though he's not a shipper. It is interesting the responses that branches and specialties elicit. Nobody looks down on the guys who are doing non grunt and non special operations jobs. But Marine, infantry, and special operations wannabes definitely get an extra measure of respect from everybody. Maybe some of these guys aren't signing up for the most hardcore branch (The Marines of course), but infantry is infantry and Special Operations is the real deal and anybody who chooses to take challenges like that earns a little extra respect from me and others. I also think that the willingness to sign up for a job that involves extreme danger and possibly personal combat in wartime is a large factor.
Eventually the group out front breaks up and goes their separate ways, we have a lot of time to kill before the 10pm curfew. Some go to the workout room, the pool, or their rooms. A few go to sign out and take a walk to find a store to get some sodas and smokes. I leave Kendrick bumming smokes from people (he is an admitted tobacco addict) and walk around the Hotel for awhile. I check out the pool and curse myself for not bringing any shorts I could go swimming in. I don't even have anything appropriate to wear to use the workout Gym or the quarter mile jogging track around the roof where the pool is.
At one point I come back out front and find Kendrick we walk over to four other guys who are off to the very end of the Hotel sidewalk smoking. Kendrick of course bums a cig. These four guys are incredulous when they hear that he is joining the Marines. "The Marines! My God, No no you'd never catch me doing that!" They say that's crazy. We ask them what branch they're joining. They're all shippers, two air-force, one navy, and one national guard, all for very behind-the-lines-not-getting-shot-at jobs. They make a couple comments about how they don't want to get sent to Afghanistan and one even says "If they tell me to go over there I'll be like nuh uh!" When Kendrick wanders away I linger for a moment with these guys, mostly out of curiosity. As soon as Kendrick is gone one of them says "That guy is going away for 2nd degree murder, he's probably all like 'I want to kill somebody' joining the Marines. I bet he'll come out of bootcamp all like 'My rifle is my friend.'" I respond to this by standing up straight and loudly reciting the rifleman's creed while they stare at me. Then I walk away without looking back. I'm frankly disgusted at their attitude and lack of motivation. I sort of wonder if they'll even make it through the basic training for their branches. I can't understand the mindset their words seem to come from, what is the military for? To defend our beloved country. I don't expect everybody to be a grunt, but attitudes like theirs are unacceptable. After this incident I mostly wander around the hotel alone, striking up conversations here and there and stopping to talk to those I've met already, including the two girls we rode up with. I walk around the jogging track, and text and call my wife. Then eventually a little before 9 I go to the room and start watching a movie on my phone. Kendrick returns to the room around 10 and we talk for a bit. I'm not really tired so I finish my movie before turning in around 11. Kendrick spends that whole time on his phone, talking to his Marine friend, and other friends and family. Once I put the phone away I fall asleep quickly.
My phone alarm for 3:45 am goes off before the wake-up call again and I get up to get ready. I showered the night before so all I have to do is basic hygiene. I also iron the collared shirt I plan to wear, it got wrinkled badly in my bag and I don't want to go to MEPS like that. Kendrick and I head to breakfast around a quarter after 4. We turn in our room keys and hit the restaurant. It is crowded, with a long line for the breakfast buffet. We get our plates and squeeze in at a table with the two girls we came up with and a couple other shippers. Several times during my time at the Hotel I feel like the two of us are the only ones not leaving. We both mention frequently how we wish we could be the ones leaving. Conversation slows the eating, and when the busses arrive at a quarter till 5 my companions rush to grab their bags and head out, leaving their unfinished breakfast despite my insistence that we have time. Pretty soon we're waiting out front beside two large coach busses. Kendrick and the girls agree that they could have at least finished their plates. After a little while the bus drivers open the bus doors and we board the busses for the drive to Maxwell Air Force Base. Along the way I have a horrible realization. My pocket knife is clipped to my pocket. I always carry it and I haven't even thought about the fact that I have it, or that it will be contraband until now. When we unload the busses long lines form going in to sign into MEPS. I put the knife in the front pocket of my bag and as soon I get in I step out of line, go up to the front desk and declare it. They attach my name to it and stow it for me, saying I can pick it up when I leave. I feel so stupid, I knew the rules, I just didn't even think about the fact that my knife is always on my person.
(Waiting to board the busses to Maxwell AFB. Many shippers in this picture.)
At the initial briefing those getting full physicals are released first, only about a dozen people. Those who are there for other things are released next, another 20 perhaps. I enter the Marine liaison office and get to skip the briefing and sexual harassment video I had last time. They know I've had it already. Instead they look for the papers I need. They're missing, and I get sent downstairs to the front desk to retrieve them. The front desk lady gives me my name-tag and a green folder and sends me to the third floor, the medical floor. After waiting in a line there the medical desk attendant looks over my paperwork and has me sit down off the side with two other guys and a girl who are there for "consults". We wait for over an hour while Shippers wait in a long line and are sent down the hall for final physicals and interviews. Finally, after some 50-60 shippers are sent to process we are called back up to the medical desk and handed sealed folders with addresses on them, and our names. We are told that a van will pick us up to take us to our consults we should go down to the first floor room with the pool table and wait to be paged. In the pool room four guys are just starting a doubles game of pool. After only a couple shots one of them is paged and leaves. I take his place and get a few shots in myself (without luck) before the four of us for consults are paged. We go meet our van driver and board a regular 15 passenger shuttle van. I am by far the most talkative out of the four of us. I introduce myself to each of the other three and ask what their consults are. The two guys are joining the Army, one says he is going for a hearing exam, the other an eye exam. The girl is going Air Force and says that she has to see a head doc because she panicked on her first trip to MEPS and put "anxiety" on her paperwork. She says that when she went to college she bawled for days and her mother told her she probably had anxiety. Mom isn't a doctor and can't diagnose medical anxiety. She admits that this was pretty dumb, she was just panicking because of the threat of jail time or a 10,000 dollar fine for fraudulent enlistments. I'm sure she'll have no trouble getting a waiver.
I'm dropped off with one of the guys at a large hospital complex with many doctor's offices. Mine is on the fourth floor, his is on the seventh. I wish him luck and head to the dermatologist office. I sign in and wait in the waiting room for about an hour. Then an assistant calls my name and takes me to a small room with all the usual doctor's office stuff in it. She asks me a series of questions about what I'm there for, along with the usual health stuff about medical history and drinking and smoking. Then she leaves me alone. I wait in this room for nearly half an hour before the doctor finally comes in, an older white haired gentleman with a cane. I stand, and he introduces himself. He asks me if I've ever had eczema, I say no and explain the poison ivy incident. He listens, then briefly explains why eczema is a disqualified for the military and talks about his own career as a Navy doctor. He spent two years serving at Parris Island. He then pulls out my folder, it is already re-sealed. "I already had my assistant fill out the paperwork saying that you have no chronic skin problem, just contact dermatitis from poison ivy that is in recovery. I have a soft spot for Marines, and I wish the best of luck to you!" Then he shakes my hand and he's gone. I walk out of the office on air and take the elevator up the seventh floor to meet the other fellow. He is still in the waiting room at a neurologist's office. I sit down and strike up a conversation. He was really quiet on the van ride and when we came in, but once the ice is broken he talks freely and is a really nice guy. He has an extremely rare condition where his eyes are constantly moving back and forth slightly. He passed the eye exam at MEPS but because of his condition, which the MEPS doctors had never seen or heard of before, they want a second opinion. His condition is very strange, I can see his eyes moving back and forth every second, his head kind of bobs all the time too. I suspect a natural response to steady his vision and compensate for the involuntary eye movement. he demonstrates his ability to read and also his superior peripheral vision. Because of the constant eye movement he can notice things that are as far back as behind his ear. Finally his name is called and he has a fairly short visit with the doctor. He comes out happy, the doctor has said that he can so no reason he shouldn't be able to join the military and has granted his waiver. We call the van driver on his phone and then wait in the lobby downstairs swapping stories our friends have told us about boot camps. The van picks us up after about fifteen minutes, then we go pick up the other two. The other army guy is disappointed. His hearing test isn't terrible, but he does have trouble with some higher pitches in one ear. He's not sure if this will disqualify him or not. The girl is a little upset when we pick her up. Not because of her results, but because she waited for two hours for a two minute visit in which the doctor asked a few questions and told her she didn't have anxiety problems. Upon arrival back at MEPS we sign in with our "magic finger" at the front desk then turn in our paperwork at the medical desk on the third floor. The attendant places our papers back in folders and then sends us down the hall to see a MEPS doctor in the medical interview room. We wait quietly and apprehensively in the hall. Anxiety girl goes first and is told she must have some blood tests because she has sickle cell trait. She walks away pretty annoyed. Hearing guy is next, and I overhear the doctor saying "they disqualified you at the New Orleans MEPS, we don't have to go by that here. Go down the hall and take a hearing test here." He leaves the office determined to get cleared for service. I'm next, the doctor takes my packet and asks what the dermatologist said. I repeat the deal about "contact dermatitis" while he looks at the papers the dermatologist sent back. "Well, based on this we're going to clear you for service. Take your packet to the medical desk, good luck with the Marines."
I again walk on air as I go to the desk, then once they look over my papers, down a floor to the Marine Liaison office. Another enlistee is getting ready to knock on the door so I just decide to follow on his heels. In the seconds while waiting I ask Kendrick how his process is going and he says that he failed the ASVAB. He had his full physical and passed that, but he'll have to come back and try the ASVAB again in 30 days. When we get inside the office we face a tirade from the Staff Sergeant about how if we weren't chit chatting outside the door we could hear them the first time they tell us to enter. I guess I let it show on my face that this is amusing because next thing I know the SSgt is asking me if I think this is funny because I'm the only one. I wipe the grin off my face right quick! The Gunnery Sergeant gives us long surveys to fill out, and the other guy gets the paperwork to register to vote as well. Then we go out into the waiting room to fill it out on clipboards. It is tedious work, and to make matters much worse, lunch time is rapidly approaching. The Gunnery Sergeant comes out a couple times to tell us to hurry up. Then he goes downstairs telling us to be done by the time he returns. I have a dozen questions left, the other fellow is just getting started on his because he had to do the voter registration form first. The Gunnery Sergeant returns after only a couple minutes to tell us that if we spent more time filling in the survey and less time talking we'd be done. Then everyone is paged for lunch while we're still sitting there filling out the survey. I finish only a couple minutes later. My poor companion is barely halfway through. I turn in the survey and go downstairs. Some people are still signing out for lunch so I don't feel so bad. I walk to lunch with the Army guy who had the hearing consult. He is angry because he passed the hearing test, but failed a TAPA test or something like that, which he has to take because of his education history. He has to wait 30 days to try again. I try to cheer him up that with the hearing issue squared away the TAPA is the only obstacle, and he can try that again. He tells me I'm a "glass half full" kinda guy and he likes that, but he's been trying to join for a year and he was so close this time. I can only imagine how frustrating and disappointing it must be to be told to wait again. I know how I felt when I got the news about my poison ivy.
At lunch I meet up with Kendrick again and we sit together with a bunch of other people we don't even know. Some of them are shippers who haven't left yet, a couple others are also processing. The other fellow who was working on the survey makes in to lunch just in time to wolf some food down and head back.
After lunch I return to MEPS and wait for a few minutes before being paged to come up to the Marine Liaison office. I and one of the other enlistee's are told to go to the first floor and down a hall to get fingerprints. We arrive and tell an attendant what we are there for, then wait for a couple minutes with the girl who had the anxiety consult before being taken back to a cubicle with a computer and a finger print scanner. We let the lady go first, while we wipe our fingers thoroughly with a special wipe we are given. When the lady is done, the other Marine enlistee goes. He has a lot of trouble. The civilian worker who is taking his finger prints keeps telling him to loosen up and un-tense. Finally he finishes and leaves. I get all my fingerprints on the first try, then the worker writes a 10 on my nametag to indicate that all 10 of my fingers have been scanned, and I go back upstairs. Now myself and two others are given a clipboard with a form on it. What follows proves to be an interesting experience. Firstly, there is a lot of banter going around the room between the two Gunnery Sergeants and the Staff Sergeant. It is completely hilarious but after my last experience I'm struggling to maintain my bearing (a straight face). I admit I crack a few smiles and chuckle silently, but I don't feel too bad because neither of the other two guys are keeping any kind of straight face. At any rate, the Marines are ignoring us while they talk to each other. Second, before we can even start on this form the guy who filled out his survey at the same time as me gets it back and is told to fix it. "Fix what sir?" he says. "Everything you screwed up on it!" He is told, it takes him a minute or two of searching to find his mistakes and fix them. Then, now that he has made the painful mistake of drawing attention to himself, he is forced to read the entire page we have been given. He struggles through it, mispronouncing words, skipping lines by mistake, and having general trouble reading it, to the great amusement of the Marines who hurl insults with glee. When he is finally through the Gunnery Sergeant asks if we understood it. We all say "yes sir!" At this point the other Gunnery Sergeant interrupts, I can tell from the behavior of the first Gunnery Sergeant that this was expected and he knows what is coming.
"I just want to clarify something. Now I believe I just heard you all say you understood that paper correct?"
"Yes sir!" we say in unison.
"If that's true you won't have any trouble explaining it right?"
Uh oh.
He asks each one of us in turn to define a word or phrase that can be found on the paper we just read. The other two are completely flummoxed. I'm asked to explain "deferred adjudication." At first I feel relieved, I know what that is from my time at the shelter for troubled teens. But when I try to say it my thoughts won't come together and my definition sounds lame and hackneyed.
The first Gunnery Sergeant says "He's close." But the one who is grilling us just says.
"Bullshit, he's wrong. Now you all said you understood that paper, but you can't explain one thing from it. That means you lied! Now let me ask you again. Do you understand what you just read?"
"No sir!" we echo in unison again.
"That's right, now let the Gunnery Sergeant explain it to you, and don't you dare lie again or I will send you home! Carry on!"
The first Gunnery Sergeant dutifully explains the paper in detail. It talks about how we must disclose our full medical history, drug history, and history of police involvement, and explains the penalties for fraudulent enlistment. Once he has explained it, we sign the bottom and flip it over. It has a list of questions related to the above mentioned histories which we must answer yes or no and explain. We are told to fill it out in the waiting room outside, then come in one at a time to talk about it and get a chance to come clean if there is anything we have failed to previously disclose.
I finish my form first and stand before the Gunnery Sergeant while he reads through my answers. He has me write down the dollar amounts of my two tickets, and then asks me if all my answers are fully truthful. I reply to the affirmative. Lastly he reviews my contract with me, then he gives me my packet to take back to where we got finger printed, only this time I'm to be interviewed. I follow instructions, only this time there is a Marine at the desk in that wing of the building. He takes my packet, reads the front and says "George Glass?"
"Jon Glass." I say.
"George Glass." He says again.
"Yes sir!" I reply.
a couple other employees, one Army and one a civilian in a wheel chair, chuckle.
"Good answer." I hear one of them say.
"Well George, have a seat for a minute." The Marine tells me, and I comply.
The man in the wheel chair takes my packet back somewhere, then returns and has me follow him to another cubicle. There he tells me that the next step is swearing in, but first I must pass this interview. It turns out to be easy, he has me swipe my finger to pull up my information, then has me confirm that it is all correct. Then he takes a list of questions and reads them off in order. I answer them all with "No Sir" or "Yes Sir" easily. I'm telling the truth so I'm not even nervous. Everything has been disclosed and documented already. I'm just confirming it all one last time. When the interview is done he takes my picture, then sends me out to the pool table room to wait. Another Marine enlistee is also waiting there. It is only about five minutes before a list of names for swearing in are called. We go back to the fingerprint wing and are sent from there to a briefing room off to the side of the hall that connects the two wings. (Note: the Marine at the desk still refers to me as George during this.) Eight of us wait in the briefing room. Then an Army captain comes in and starts a video on a flatscreen. The video talks about the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and describes the definitions of AWOL and Desertion, and the penalties for such, as well as how they apply to us after we swear in. The end of the video gives us a quick briefing on how we will swear in. How to stand at parade rest, then come to attention, and how to raise our right hand. The Captain cuts it off, then has us line up while he fires up a computer in the corner. One by one we come up, and he makes sure we know what our contract is for. Then we sign it biometrical with our fingerprints and have our picture taken again. When all eight of us are done he asks if any of us were in JROTC three others raise their hands, and he instructs them to make sure we are situated properly next door. Then he opens a door and sends us into a room with plush maroon floors and walls, the swearing in room. We line up in two lines of four, at parade rest. Then the captain enters and we snap to attention. He corrects one or two of the guys positions of attention, then stands in front of us.
"Raise your right hand."
We do so, then he says "repeat after me." and we go through the whole pledge. Swearing to protect the constitution against all enemies, both foreign and domestic. When it's over, we continue to stand at attention while he dismisses us one by one, handing us back our packets and saying congratulations and good luck. I depart last, right behind the other young man who enlisted for the Marines. As soon as we get outside we exchange a spontaneous high five. "We made it!" He says. We've just met, but the feelings of camaraderie are already there, we both know what we have chosen to undertake. We talk about when we think we'll ship and find out there's a good likelihood we'll both be going in october. We agree that it would be great if all the hopefully future Marines who we've processed with today could ship out together. We go back upstairs to the Liaison's office where we find that the Marine liaisons aren't so bad. Maybe it's a change in their attitudes, and maybe it's a change in ours, I'm not sure. At any rate we are given a folder with the Montgomery Marine Recruiting Command newsletter, a welcome letter from its commander, sheets with basic knowledge to study, and a copy of our contracts. We also receive the Gunnery Sergeant's congratulations and a navy blue T shirt with the Marine Corps emblem on the front, and the word "Marines" on the back, all in maroon. Then we are dismissed to await our rides. I'm too excited after that to do much. I find Kendrick in the pool table room playing pool. There's only a handful of people left there, all waiting their rides home. I don't make much conversation for once. Leroy arrives with our transport van after only a short wait, and I say goodbye to my fellow new Poolee. Then I grab my bag, sign out, and head out to the van with Kendrick. We are already out of Montgomery by the time I remember that I left my pocket knife with the front desk! I'm a little upset, it was a nice knife and one that I'll miss. But after all it was my fault I lost it, and besides, I'm going to be a Marine! Nothing can dampen my spirits much. We arrive back at the recruiting station in Pensacola around 6:45-7:00ish. Sgt Lovett congratulates me and tells me that he will schedule a visit to my house to give my wife and I the full welcome aboard speech and package. Staff Sergeant Thorn just tells me to be at the office tomorrow for the Poolee function and PT. I say that I find out my work schedule today and I'll be there if I don't work. Lastly I drive Kendrick home, since he lives almost on my way home. We agree that we should try to go swimming and/or running together from time to time. I also remind him to get a book and study for the ASVAB so he can pass it when he goes to try again in 30 days. I tell him if he needs a ride to go to the library I'll give him one if need be.
Then I go home to see my wife and celebrate with her.
With this hurdle down, the next trip I take to MEPS will be to go to Parris Island...
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