Basic Training Day 0

All of the stories from Reception to the end of my time at BCT were written after the fact. I did not have time to keep a journal, until the end.

It was raining. The water falling from the sky was sure to make our entry into BCT even more cumbersome.

As we loaded the bus from 120th AG (reception battalion) we were told to “shut up and put our heads down”. This was about the time that I remembered I suffered from car/motion sickness (luckily nothing came up — just nauseated). The ride seemed to take forever, like Father Time was enjoying the displeasure we were all about to go through.

The bus finally jerked to a halt, and we were informed by the drill sergeant on board that we had ten seconds to get off his bus. Lots of pushing around occurred as a full bus of young men attempted to exit the bus all at the same time.

When I stepped off the bus, I felt like I was suddenly dropped into a movie — or a YouTube video that I’d watched time and time again. There were hundreds of young men and women sprinting with their 30lb+ laundry bag bear hugged in their arms, in wild confusion. It was mass chaos. There were drill sergeants lined up, almost like directional markers leading us to our demise. One unfortunate sap had dropped his laundry bag and had the contents spilling out onto the ground, he was instantly pounced on by two drill sergeants while the rest of screamed by in fear of being next.

We got to “the pit” — a large square area filled with rubber “chips” (most likely shreds of recycled tires). We formed up as told, while the drill sergeants walked through the ranks berating whoever they deemed necessary. The person in front of me got to enjoy an ear full, but I was passed up on — I was not making eye contact with anyone — to this day I still don’t know what drill sergeants were doing what, as I was so on edge and made sure to keep my eyes straight forward.

Names were then called off to determine what platoon you would reside in — I was in first platoon. Now, a little more organized — and smaller, we formed up as a platoon.

Our first task in BCT? Sprint to the company “next door” and unload all (the entire company) the duffel bags from the LMTV — most people had two bags on the LMTV. We were instructed to find our bags and return. Obviously it was mass chaos and most returned to the company empty handed. We were then told we would get another chance, so again we sprinted back over and helped others find their bags. Then back to the company again where were informed that we failed our first military task.

We did a layout of all of our items, and then repacked it into our bags. Afterwards we were all given a small piece of paper with our mailing address. This would be our first phone call home, and the last time we would see our phones (until Christmas Exodus/HBL/VBL). I frantically dialed my wife, and fought back the tears and the cycling emotions as I read off what must have sounded like Morse Code. It’s hard for a civilian to understand what you’re trying to read, when you’re fumbling with your words and half of what you’re telling them is abbreviated; for example: Pvt Doe, John A, 1234 Main Ave, City, State, 123456, A. Co. 3rd Plt. “Roughnecks”, 1/34th IN REG 165th IN BDE

Luckily, I was able to snap a picture after rambling it and text it to her before time was up.

We then were escorted to our new homes, on the third floor — carrying everything we “owned” in three separate bags — I believe it was roughly 60 steps upstairs.

To be honest, the remainder of the first day is all but forgotten. I can’t remember what occurred after that besides eating our first REAL MRE outside in the breezeway.