Once a Marine; Always a Marine

Stepping through the maze of boxes and other various items of Bob Carson's attic was no easy task. He had to be extremely careful as to not knock over anything or miss the wooden support beams and literally fall through the floor below him. Though this task proved challenging, he finally managed to reach his destination. He opened a box up and began to pull out various items. Carson was an avid collector of various Nascar replica cars and was selling them to gain an extra profit when he wasn't working his day job.

As he pulled out the various items in search of one of his Mark Martin replica cars, something cought his eye. He dug through a few old newspapers he's lazily stored in the box one morning and found an old relic of his past. His heart nearly stopped. He had thought he'd lost this precious artifact long ago. He pulled out what appeared to be an old binder and a journal. The binder was entitled, "My Time In The Corps" and was complimented with many pictures of Carson and his old friends from his time in the United States Marine Corps. Forgetting about his previous endeavor, he began looking through his old binder. He smiled at the many pictures of his friends, including on particular one that he had taken when the boys were drunk at a bar.

Carson had retired from the military three years ago. Having suffered from a tough transition back to his civilian life, he managed to find a rather prestigious job at a law firm and worked as an attorney there. He had reaped the benefits of the GI Bill while he was in the military and went to college shortly after becoming a staff sergeant. Carson put down the old binder and leaned up against a support beam for the attic ceiling. He opened his old journal. He laughed at some of the entries and frowned at some others. He rememered his past quite well and could not help but reminisce about the past.

9/16/2004
MARINE CORPS RECRUIT DEPOT
PARRIS ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA

"I SAID GET ON THE DECK, DIPSHIT!" The DI exclaimed no more than two inches from his face.

"Aye sir!" Carson said, dropping to the floor immediately.

He had really done it this time. He had been in the chow hall eating his second meal of the day when he decided he had wanted something a little more sweet. He went up to one of the machines to go ahead and purchase some sweeter food when it seemed to malfunction. He had tried to fix it but it ended up breaking. The Senior Drill Instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez, was not too happy about the destruction of the machine.

"Sir, how many push ups does this recruit have to do, sir?" Carson inquired, staring up at the SDI in front of him.

"How many? Well let's see, how about until I say STOP?!" Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez proclaimed.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Carson really didn't think he'd survive this time. PT had been hard at first, but he'd gotten used to doing the regular twenty five to fifty push ups daily. But now he wasn't really sure when he was going to stop; if he was even going to stop.

"Recruit, PUSH UP!" Senior Drill Instructor Rodriguez commanded.

Carson pushed up off the ground and exclaimed, "MARINE CORPS," as loud as he possibly could. He awaited the order to begin, whilst praying Rodriguez would not make him stay in the push up position for long. Carson hadn't screwed up much in Boot Camp, he was smarter than most of the guys. But when he did screw up, he ended beating himself about it more than anyone else did. The only time he could recall that he majorly screwed up was in his second week when he had backtalked one of the other drill instructors and the DI ended up making the whole platoon suffer for it.

"YOU MAY BEGIN, MAGGOT!" Rodriguez commanded.

Carson began to push up as fast as he could. He called the cadence as loud as he could muster as to not make Rodriguez criticize him for sounded off too low. He kept pushing for several minutes, reaching around a hundred push ups when finally Rodriguez made him stop. Rodriguez gave him the order to recover and Carson jumped back to his feet at attention. Rodriguez observed him closely, a devilish green forming upon his features. He turned to the rest of the platoon, whom stood at attention at their bunks.

"Guess what, ladies?! Recruit Carson here has decided to fuck up one of my machines. For this reason, you all are going to march around the island four times. I am disgusted with this platoon. You boys have possibly been the worst fucking platoon I have ever had the displeasure of training. When I mention the Army, you boys act like it's some funny joke. WELL LAST TIME I CHECKED, THIS IS PARRIS ISLAND! WE TRAIN MARINES! I WILL PT YOU ALL UNTIL YOU FUCKING DIE! I DO NOT GIVE A RATS ASS WHAT YOU THINK, EITHER! I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND, MAGGOTS?!"

The entire platoon exclaimed "yes sir," and Rodriguez smiled to himself. Carson knew he was going to get a ton of flak from the other recruits when the DIs weren't breathing down there necks before lights out. He had a feeling they were beginning to form a severe dislike towards him.

"Johnson, get your ass in here!" Rodriguez yelled across the barracks quarters to one of the DIs whom had just exited the 'Head'.

The drill instructor ran inside and stood before Rodriguez, he shared the same devilish grin as the gunny did. Sergeant Johnson was a tall, well built man. He had been a antitank missileman prior to becoming a drill instructor. He was the type of guy that loved to blow stuff up. Some rumors went around that the Navy shrinks had informed him he was one of those people who enjoyed killing too muich. He seemed like the type, in Carson's opinion.

"March the platoon around the island four times, Johnson. When they get back, make 'em drop. Give 'em fifty push ups," the gunny informed Johnson, "AND IF I HEAR ONE MORE DAMNED RECRUIT MAKE A NOISE WHILE STANDING AT ATTENTION, I WILL TRIPLE THE AMOUNT OF PUSH UPS THE PLATOON WILL HAVE TO DO WHEN YOU ARRIVE BACK IN MY BARRACKS. I HAVE NO PROBLEM PTING YOUR ASSES IN MY BARRACKS, LADIES! NO PROBLEM AT ALL!" Rodriguez said.

Johnson nodded and turned to the platoon. He gave the order to get into formation and began marching with the platoon out of the barracks and into the warm September sun. Carson gulped, today was going to be not only long, but extremely tough. He prayed to himself that he would not mess up again in the future. He didn't particularly enjoy making the whole platoon suffer for his poor judgements.