{"id":49,"date":"2015-11-21T00:07:27","date_gmt":"2015-11-21T00:07:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/oldschooltrail.com\/?p=49"},"modified":"2026-07-24T20:51:55","modified_gmt":"2026-07-25T01:51:55","slug":"basic-training","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oldschooltrail.com\/index.php\/2015\/11\/21\/basic-training\/","title":{"rendered":"Basic Training"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dad volunteered for the marines when he was 17, but he had to wait until he turned 18 before he could actually enter. In order to train for the corps, he worked at improving his running abilities. \u00a0They lived out in the country and their mailbox was about 1\/2 mile away from their house. \u00a0So each day, he would run to get the mail. \u00a0He got better at it gradually, and before long he would run non-stop, both directions, to and from the mailbox.<\/p>\n

He had a job collecting money for the Houston Chronicle. He would borrow his Dad’s truck each Sunday. \u00a0It had a cracked block, so the radiator did not hold water, and he took plenty with him for his route. He would fill it with water, then go as far as he could, trying to reach hilltops before he could go no further. At the top of a hill, he would turn off the key and coast down as far as he could. \u00a0He would look for water in gullies first, before he would use the precious water he had stored. Then he would fill the radiator\u00a0again, drive as far as he could, to the next hilltop, cut the key and coast, then fill it with water again,… \u00a0This was how he made his 200 mile round trip route each week.<\/p>\n

In his spare time, as always, he did a lot of running, hunting, killing and skinning of hides, and curing them for selling. \u00a0He was always a tough, strong, and very physically fit kid.<\/p>\n

When his 18th birthday arrived, he completed his paperwork at the local recruiter office, then got on the bus and went out to San Diego, California. There were many, many men there, ready for training, and they were divided into groups. \u00a0He settled into his\u00a0group of about 75 men, for boot camp.<\/p>\n

\"Boot<\/a><\/p>\n

Each group had a Sergeant, who was “one tough cookie”. \u00a0His job was to turn smart-alecky civilians, into marines. \u00a0No kind of smart mouth was tolerated, and you had to stay clean and follow orders. \u00a0The sergeant would try to make you mad! \u00a0Calisthenics, wash your clothes, get in order, stay at attention,… He would conduct\u00a0tedious inspections, turning up his nose and contorting his face to your perfectly clean clothes. \u00a0Then he might pull off your shirt, drop it on the ground and stomp on it, make you do it over. \u00a0And they would be as clean as could be.<\/p>\n

Occasionally, someone would take him on and there would be a fist fight. The sergeant would beat them up and that would be that. \u00a0He wanted orderly, obedient people. \u00a0Sometimes he would have them dress in their best dress blues, shoes shined and buttons polished. Then he would take them out to the beach and make them run in the deep sand, until they fell down.<\/p>\n

Dad was among the best runners. \u00a0The Navajo Indian tribe had a lot of marines. The Japanese could not understand their language. \u00a0So they often carried radios. A movie was made about them. \u00a0They are known for their ability to run, as well. \u00a02 of them challenged Dad\u00a0to a run. \u00a0None of the 3 of them could ever beat each other. They were neck and neck, all the way.<\/p>\n

Dad was assigned to morse code training. \u00a0“dit – dot – dit – dot – dit – dot – dot – dot”. The goal was to send at 40 words per minute with no mistakes. \u00a0Write it down, code names in place of dots, send. \u00a0The training lasted about 6 weeks, and it was hard. \u00a0He was also trained in semi-fore, which was sending coded messages with the use of flags.<\/p>\n

After communications training, he went to the rifle range and made sharp shooter. \u00a0He had a boil on his cheek during that training, right where the rifle touched his face. \u00a0But he still shot with great accuracy, despite the terrific pain. And he believes they probably recorded his high pain tolerance.<\/p>\n

At the end of boot camp, there was a big beer bust celebration. \u00a0They had completed boot camp, they were now marines, but not yet assigned. \u00a0Dad was sitting among friends. \u00a0Everyone had been drinking. Dad never liked alcohol, but he had been drinking too. \u00a0There was a message repeating over the loud-speaker, calling for someone sounding like, “Private Lu-Kay”. \u00a0They probably called for him about 50 times. \u00a0After quite a long while, someone told Dad that he thought they might be saying his\u00a0name. So Dad went up and checked things out. \u00a0It was a Louisiana Cajun, and he said, “I have your billfold”.<\/p>\n

The best day of boot camp, was the last day. \u00a0They had been treated like “dogs in dog prison” for weeks. \u00a0But the closer time came for them to re-enter civilization, things got some better. \u00a0Typical early morning drills included calisthenics in cadence with their rifles, while being yelled at by the sergeant. \u00a0On graduation morning, things were a little different. They were told to put on their dress blues with polished buttons and shined shoes. \u00a0They all met, all 500 to 1000 of them, on a large parade ground area, where they assembled in rows. They were ordered to attention. \u00a0Over the loudspeaker, emerged a favorite song of that era, a waltz called, “3 O’Clock in the Morning”. They performed their morning drills to the accompaniment of that song. \u00a0Dad said it was the most pleasant boot camp experience that he remembers. \u00a0He had grown up on hillbilly music, guitar and fiddle. \u00a0At that moment, he lost his taste in hillbilly music, and it has never been the same, since. \u00a0The song really made an impression on him. \u00a0It sounded so pretty, and they were like a bunch of New York girls on stage \ud83d\ude42 \u00a0This was their graduation ceremony.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\n
Three O’clock In The Morning<\/div>\n
\n