Marine Wife, Mommy & Life: Throwback Thursday: The Day I Became a Marine

10 years ago I graduated from boot camp with ladies from 4030 and my platoon 4031 (there's always one 31). 10 years ago I became one of the Few Good Women, a Marine. It had been a dream of mine since I was little to join the armed forces. It wasn't until the summer before my Senior Year of high school that I chose to enter the Marine Corps.

A bus filled with us recruits arrived on the island late at night or early morning, I really can't remember. We were told to exit the bus and stand on the infamous yellow footprints.

Then came the intake process of going through all the crap we were told to bring with us but were not allowed to keep. Filling out documents, writing to our parents our address, I think we even had to call them to let them know we made it.... That part is a bit fuzzy. Hustled off to get rifles, entered a squad bay and waited for our DI's to come in.... They don't call Marines Devil Dogs for nothing. Just thinking about it brings back that ringing in my ears.

We were the first female platoons to receive the (then) new Digi Cammies. Honestly, I was pissed and disappointed. I knew how to shine shoes to make them look like a mirror, I knew how to starch the uniform to make fine creases and have it stand up without even being worn.... That was something we and Marines who joined after did not get to experience. I was assigned to be the guide through most of boot camp. Being on the Saber Team, Drill Team, and Color Guard in AFJROTC throughout high school had provided me with deep knowledge of the drill field. I was the most hated recruit by most and the most friendly to others. The DI's would call me into their offices for private chit chats (that would scare the HELL out of me because they were being "friendly"). I was busted and had the guidon taken away from me because I had family and friends pictures stashed away in my pillow case that I would look at during the nights I just couldn't sleep. Then they would throw it back at me a day or two later. Another Cali girl, that I am still good friends with, had the position as guide as well and rocked it too. We finally all became a unit that worked together and soon found the games that the DI's played with us more humorous than not. When we were first told we would be receiving sugar cookies I seriously thought they meant cookies. Nope, to the sand pit we went and we were shinning with grains of sand by the end, just like a sugar cookie. When one would get sent to the quarter deck we all started going to the quarter deck to go through it and motivate the one in trouble together. Health issues arose for me during boot camp. Stress will do that to you. Break you down, build you back up. My stomach was the worse. I was not use to 3 square meals a day, rigorous exercises, etc. My stomach became blocked up. To the point when going back into formation from chow that I passed out on a stack of rifles. I was rushed to the hospital and I barely remember them cutting my shirt off me, woke up and was basically told I was full of shit. Yea, literally, full of shit. I hadn't been able to "go" in weeks and it had all pushed up against my insides... The laughs I received when returning were a bit embarrassing. Once the Crucible came it was game on. We were within reach of our EGA's. Rifle range was interesting and our bag nasties (lunches) had barely enough food to put in our stomachs, the male recruits would have so much in their lunches that half the time they didn't finish it and would sneak us an egg, granola bar or piece of fruit. Then the night hike came.... Our team had gotten turned around. Our DI was radioing in to find out where the hell we were suppose to be. We'd be going along and then slam into the person in front of us because of a sudden stop in front. That's when shit hit the fan for me. The recruit in front of me stepped back just right with her heel to the middle-top of my right foot and there was a crack with instant pain....FFFFFFFF!!!!! Hobbled along the rest of the way. The next day and a half I refused to take my boot off. Limped my way back to the squad bay for the miles of that last proud hike back for the warriors breakfast. Stripped down and peeled my boot off of me which instantly swelled and revealed a gnarly looking bruise. Many other girls had blisters that covered the entire length of the bottom of their feet. I was sent to medical and it was determined the top of my foot was fractured. Wrapped it up, was handed crushes and felt like shit. Sure, I finished what was needed to become a Marine, but the Family Day run was out of the question. We were handed our EGA's inside an auditorium with the song "I'm Proud To Be An American" playing in the background. There wasn't a single one of us who did not have a proud and silent tear in our eyes.

The morning of graduation I had to report to medical and I knew that if I didn't just suck it up I would be stuck on PI for awhile... Went in and told the doc that I was fine, it was sore but tolerable. That's when he started pushing on my foot. Through gritted teeth I said I was fine. He cleared me, sent me on my way, but refused to let me march with my platoon for graduation because he didn't want any added stress on the foot. Another FFFFFFFFFF!!!! I graduated in the top 5 of my platoon on the sidelines. It was a proud but disheartening feeling not being side by side with them.

During the last week of boot camp we were granted permission to get a disposable camera to make our SDI a little scrapbook of our platoon, 4031. Sure enough, I have some of those pics.