#best09 Day 1: Trip
What was your best trip in 2009?
It’s been a long year, and I’ve been on a few trips. Very few, sadly, and that needs to change in the coming year.
I wouldn’t say it was my “best” trip, but it was my “Big” one, so we’ll cover my trip to Boot Camp.
Months before, I had formally enlisted in the United States Navy, a whole ordeal on its’ own. I was very proud and excited to finally become a part of something much larger than myself, and try to make a difference somewhere in this world.
Everyone sent me addresses, asked for letters, and my ex chewed me out for “broken promises” hours before I walked out the door (which she later apologized for, a rare but much welcomed thing.) I was taken up to the MEPS, where I figured I’d never see anyone I knew again, but SURPRISE, an old friend from college, Carlos, was there too. Carlos and I knew each other through Jun and his crew from Bergen, and it was very nice to see him before I left. Not to mention I needed a partner for the Hotel Rooms that night.
The next morning, I got up at 4:00 AM for a very long day. We went back to the MEPS for a final examination, then were divided by branch of service and bussed to the various airports to be flown to the nearest major civilian airport to our various boot camps. I met up with some of the Navy folk and we went to LaGuardia, the smallest but trendiest of the three NYC airports.
When we finally touched down, the group navigated through O’hare thanks to my lead to the USO area. When we got there, we took notice that people were already being barked at and ordered to line up, and when one Petty Officer asked if we had eaten, we said no so we could prepare for what was about to happen. Also, because we hadn’t eaten.
After going back and piling onto a fancy tour bus, we were at Recruit Training Command within the hour. There was a huge sign on the door that said “WELCOME TO GREAT LAKES, IL. RECRUIT TRAINING COMMAND.” It was deceptively friendly.
The night I’m now going to tell you about was the worst night of my life. As soon as we were ushered into the building the yelling began. Not that I didn’t expect any of it, nor that I was upset BY any of it. We were immediately lined up again and various instructions were barked at us, which if we failed to follow would lead to MORE chewing out. We were told no longer to touch our faces, no longer to rub our eyes, never to speak for any reason other than when spoken to. Basically, it is exactly what you think boot camp is.
As the night dragged on, quite slowly I might add, we were issued our “smurfs.” Our set of PT gear that we would basically wear for the next two weeks until we were issued our Navy Working Uniforms (NWUs) which you might be familiar with as they’re Digicamos. Only blue, instead of olive, white-ish or desert, like one might be familiar with. The logic behind us wearing blue camos is severely flawed. Should you have fallen into teh water with them on, you’d pretty much be fucked.
Anyways, we were forced to strip and put on our PT gear (to be expected, I know) and all our civilian stuff was put in a box and shipped home. It was here that I lost every single address. They had seen my book and deemed it “dangerous” because of the wire spool, thus they forced me to throw it away. And so, with no way of writing anyone, I was officially alone in Boot Camp.
We eventually moved into the main classroom again and were told we could put our heads down to sleep. You know, after about an hour of being told we had to sit up straight, silent, and not “eyeball” any of the Petty Officers/Chiefs walking around barking orders. We slept for about 30 minutes until we were woken up again to be moved to our division compartments. 051 was my division number. On next to zero sleep, we made our racks and told to sleep.
Two hours later, we were awoken to yelling RDCs (Recruit Division Commanders.) They introduced themselves quickly, then got us on the move to start our day, which consisted of much standing (which caused my back to be in extreme pain.) That first day, we were introduced to various things, including the Galley (where, surprise, there was no talking) getting my haircut, and getting a guard belt and canteen, which we had to wear wherever we went.
The next few days consisted of shots, being taught rank and file of the Navy and other branches, who to salute and when, how to properly make our racks, how to fold and where to store our clothes in our compartments under our racks, how to properly label our clothes, and pretty much everything you would expect of Boot Camp.
Over the course of this time, I requested to be seen by the docs to try to pinpoint the source of my back pain. It was at that point I told them about my wave runner accident. They sent me over to the U.S.S. Tranquility (the Recruit Medical Clinic). While in the waiting area, I met a few recruits that told me some of the cool things that were coming up, tips on how to survive, and one of them told me about Separations, the unit for those being sent home. My General Practitioner saw me, had me take X-Rays and recommended me to my specialist, whom I’m gonna dedicate a probably very long paragraph to right now.
Former Lieutenant Christopher (that’s not his first name, but his last name, which WAS his last name, will be preserved in its’ entirety for the sake of a 4chan reference) Poole. The worst doctor I have ever had. An uncompassionate man, embittered due to what I would assume was the amount of recruits that I’m sure tried to use his office to get out of their contract and thus the Navy. Of which I was not one. Not that he cared, he took one look at me and assumed I was as such. He was irate that I “missed my appointment” though I had literally been sitting in his waiting room since early that morning. He berated me for wasting people’s time and one of the first things he told me was “I’ll take a look at your back but here’s a box of tissues which you will need because I’m going to find you fit for duty (FFD).”
He proceeds to ask me why I’m there, and I tell him about my pain, my accident (which he labeled me as a perjurer for) and about the X-Rays taken, that the GP had said there was some abnormalities and that she recommended he look at it. He then looked at my X-Rays, said I didn’t have some name of some condition, and when I asked what it was, he refused to tell me, stating flatly “It doesn’t matter because you don’t have it.” He then proceeded to give me the “Waddell’s Test.” It involved doing a few touches and movements to which I experienced slight increases in pain. The “Good” doctor then told me that it was indicative of Psychological pain, meaning that not all the pain was necessarily real and that it may be in my head. As an aside, after looking into it, I scored a 7 out of 8 on the test which is shown as a probable direct link to those who may have depression or hypochondria, though he conveniently neglected to tell me that, nor did he book me with an appointment with Recruit Evaluation Unit (REU.)
After scaring the hell outta me, accusing me of Malingering and threatening to throw me in the Brig, he left the room and came back a few minutes later. He then proceeded to throw in “Oh, by the way. Your X-Rays show me that you have scoliosis. It’s disqualifying in your case if you show symptoms, which, since you have back pain, trouble standing and marching, and the like, you do. You may be sent home if you so choose to be.” Since I wanted to stay, I insisted at this point for other options, though when he told me Recruit Carry Unit (RCU) was one of them, I almost shit my pants. RCU is basically purgatory, you do NOTHING all day but talk, PT for three hours and eat. You never leave, more or less, unless for Religious Services.
Since RCU was bullshit and I wanted to try to push ahead, I asked for pain medication. He prescribed 800mg of Ibuprofen and light physical therapy while marking me Fit for Duty. And thus I returned to my division, only to find I missed the dental, ear, and eye exams. The following day my RDCs rushed me through all the exams and shots in one go to get me FFD. And so the PTing began.
A few days later, I was doubling over in pain at random intervals. The ibuprofen had been messing with my system to the point where I was starting to develop bleeding ulcers, but I didn’t know that at this point and, so as not to be accused of malingering again, I tried to man up and hide the pain.
One of my Petty Officers caught me, however. He sent me to medical once again where my GP basically told me “You could stay but we have a pretty good case to send you home. Which you *should* do.” It was at that point I had enough of this place, so I took her “friendly suggestion.” What happened next has partially changed my life.
If Dr. Poole is the evil darkness embodied over at Great Lakes, Lieutenant Rebecca Boston is the shining light of life. She was the sweetest woman I have ever met, reassuring, comforting, and willing to have a friendly conversation with us “lowly recruits.” After processing the beginnings of my paperwork, she closed the door and asked if she could lead a prayer for me. It had been a while since I had prayed, so I accepted and listened as she did so, commenting on how I was blessed with humor, intelligence, and hope. She prayed that I would find out what to do next on my journey of life. Most of all, she was simply a good person to me, and all the recruits who passed through her office. God bless that woman, for she is literally an angel among demons.
You know, though, being a demon is most of their jobs, so I don’t hold it against them personally. Except Dr. Poole. He was a douche.
Anyways, I was transferred out of my division a few hours later to Separations. It was saddening that I was out of my division, but it was a relieving change from where I had just come from. Here we could watch TV when it was unsecured, play cards, we could talk more freely, make phone calls, write whenever we wanted (in our division, the ONLY time we were “authorized” to write letters was during Sunday’s four hours of holiday routine. Should we have been caught writing letters at any other time, in the words of one of my Petty Officers, they would “Skull Fuck” us.
It was there I made some new friends, and tried to survive the next three and a half weeks of total boredom. It was like Purgatory Plus, we basically did “nothing” productive, but we were somewhat entertained by what we were allowed to do. I introduced some folk to Kings and Daifugo, a Japanese card game. SEPS is an adventure in and of itself which I will cover someday as this entry has gotten far too long.
Anyway, to shorten the ending for now, I’m home, out of the Navies. Sad that I couldn’t be a Corpsman, but relieved to see all my friends and especially my father again.
It was an adventure.
