Basic training can be unbelievably awful to go through, but the demanding physical tasks and endless punishments build comradery and teamwork. The situations that military members are put in are intense at the time, but in retrospect sound pretty hilarious.
Have you ever wondered what actually goes on inside military training bases? Then here’s your chance to find out!
Thanks to all of the redditors who shared their stories. Check out the source links at the end of the article to read more.
We had just finished cleaning out the bay. The TL comes in for inspection and finds a dust bunny about the size of a quarter. He freaks out, and runs all over the bay like the dust bunny is chasing him. Then, finally, he unleashes a karate scream and does a flying stomp onto the dust bunny.
Uh oh. Now it’s dead… so we have to give it a funeral. There were pallbearers. There were designated criers… as in “I can’t hear you ‘Smith’, do you even give a crap about this dust bunny? His little dust bunny family is without a father.” The eulogy, just before we flushed the dust bunny, was given by another trainee who I have to hand it to, did a much better job of not laughing than me.
Was in US Navy boot camp 14 years ago. On the first night I had to poop, Petty Officer told me to hold it or crap my pants. Held it for hours, and my body wasn’t having it any longer and I pooped myself. Then they led us to a room to undress and pack our belongings and put them in a box to ship them home. Being too embarrassed to ask to throw them away, I wrapped my crappy underwear in my clothes and they were mailed home to my mom.
2 guys were caught fighting after lights out. The Drill Sergeant runs upstairs grabs the 2 guys and drags them downstairs. The next morning the 2 guys look worn and ragged but seem to be in good spirits and seem to now be good buddies. Apparently the Drill Sergeant made them hug each other, look into each other’s eyes, and say “I love you” to each other nonstop for the whole night.
We had a drill sergeant make a private carry a branch everywhere she went so it would replenish all the oxygen she was wasting.
Another time, a mother of one of the other privates sent him a photo of a drill sergeant trashing a locker, with a letter saying “hope you’re drill sergeant isn’t as mean as this! :)” it turned out that it was a picture of our dill sergeant. He had posted on Facebook that ended up going viral, she was just looking up pictures of drill sergeants and it just happened to be him.
One time I didn’t clean all the toothpaste off of the inside of the cap during an inspection. DS made me put about a months worth of toothpaste on my toothbrush and brush my teeth for a couple hours. That crap was disgusting.
During my basic – the last Harry Potter book was coming out and a lot of people were having their parents mail them like 50 pages at a time in their letters. Eventually our instructors found out and brought the company in a room and gave away every major plot point in the book. Who died and when and just ruined the book for like hundreds of people. It was absolutely the darkest, funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
To make it even funnier – when we were out in the woods and getting the trucks that brought food unloaded, they made kids get sticks from the woods and have wand fights in order to see who could get eat first.
It was pretty damn funny.
So, I’ll come out and say it, I had a complete breakdown in Basic. I shipped right out of high school, where I was hot crap, and got to Benning, where I was just crap. Like a teenager at a Starbucks, I literally couldn’t even.
This inability to cope manifested in my sleep-walking. Or, more appropriately, sleep-standing-at-parade-rest (the modified position of attention you assume when addressing a Non-Commissioned Officer).
I’d always wake up exhausted, and I chalked it up to, y’know, push-ups n’ things. It wasn’t until a few weeks in that my bunk mate told me, that about twenty minutes after lights-out, I would stand up (still asleep), walk to my “toe the line”* position, and proceed to stand there, unmoving, for a couple hours at a time. I’d wake up, confused, and head back to my bunk.
Everyone in the platoon thought the stuff was hilarious, and it became a game to see how long they could get me to stand there.
“Toe’ing The Line” is what you do every morning upon waking up. There’s a painted line that you stand at attention / parade rest at, usually in preparation to get smoked. I still cringe when I hear the term.
Anyway, one particular morning, a Drill Sergeant decided that 2 am was time for us to toe the line and get smoked for some random offense. Or he was bored, I d’know.
So, he walks in the room (everyone else is asleep – fire guard is cleaning the latrine), and spots me – already standing at parade rest. His entrance woke me up, but I stood there, terrified, and unmoving. He looked at me like he saw a ghost, stood in the doorway for a second, and just walked away.
The next day, the Drill Sergeant saw me in formation, and told the platoon that something was definitely weird with me and I was required to have an additional battle buddy present when talking with him for the rest of Basic.
As part of our basic training, we had to throw a live grenade. After weeks of practicing throwing a yoghurt bottle filled with sand and wrapped with electrical tape and yelling “grenade!”, we were deemed ready for the real thing. Another recruit stepped into the pit with the platoon commander to ready himself. Hold, twist and pull then throw. Just as he threw he yelled “PIKACHU – I CHOOSE YOU!!!”. PC had the most wtf look.
When I was in boot, one of the cafeteria workers walked through the chow hall while we were eating. She was wearing Apple Bottom jeans. Our Drill Instructor was sitting at the head of the table, and started humming “Get Low.” Naturally, we all laughed.
So, after chow, we went back to our bunks and got smoked. Drill Instructor put Get Low on the speakers, we did jumping jacks to the beat until they sang “She hit the floor”, at which point we had to hit the floor and do pushups while singing. And every time we laughed, he started the song over.
I still shudder when I hear it.
One of the guys fell asleep during fire watch. One of the drill instructors ambushed him and told him that he was now dead. So then he had to go around being a spooky ghost. So he has to walk around with a sheet over his head booing and shaking everyone’s racks. It would have been hilarious if I wasn’t so damn tired.
In the barracks where I did my basic we had “cubicles” our bunks were separated by a half wall. My bed and the bed of the troop next to me were both against that half wall. Part of our layout for inspection was a specific set of gear on the bed.
One morning inspection our platoon Sergeant decided that the bed layout of the troop next to me was utter crap so the Sergeant flipped the mattress so hard it landed on my bunk covering my layout.
After the Sergeant finished reaming out the troop next to me he takes one look at my bunk and starts reaming me out because apparently I think I’m special and deserve two mattresses.
One morning in Basic training, it was about midway through our 3 month cycle and we were lined up for breakfast chow. While waiting in line, we had to stand at parade rest in columns of two in our PT uniform. We couldn’t move or anything at the risk of being pointed out and screamed at. The uniform consisted of somewhat black short-shorts and a grey t-shirt that said ARMY on the front. Well, one guy in front of me had one of those “No-reason” erections and the Drill Sergeant caught him as he was trying to move to hide it away. He pulls him off to the side and starts screaming.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PRIVATE!? WHY ARE YOUR PRIVATES SALUTING IN THE CHOW LINE!”
Of course this yelling spread to the ears of two other Drills and they came over as well.
“HEY BATTLE COME LOOK AT THIS”
“HEY AT EASE THAT CRAP PRIVATE!”
As this was said, one Drill Sergeant bent down, face inches away from the full mast culprit and bellowed
“PRIVATE YOU BETTER GET THAT CRAP IN CHECK”
I entered into the building before I could hear anything else about it. To this day I still don’t know how the Drill Sergeants went through that without so much as a smirk.
The first couple weeks of Boot are full of medical and dental exams, and if you need a procedure, you get it done right there. Tons of guys had their wisdom teeth pulled, and we had one guy come back right before lights out with his mouth full of gauze and loopy from the drugs.
Our Drill Instructor called us all to the center of the room, formed us up, and then told us to sit Indian style on the floor, and that Recruit Toothy was going to tell us a bedtime story.
He pulled up a chair for Toothy, and then told him to tell us the story of the battle of the Monitor and Merrimac. Toothy mumbled that he didn’t know the story, so the Drill Instructor told him to just make it up, and for every fact that he got right, we’d get to sleep an extra 5 minutes in the morning.
What followed was like a live episode of Drunk History, minus any factual accuracy. As best as Toothy could recall, the Monitor was British, the Merrimack was “Old Ironsides”, and that in the end, “they shot the crap out of each other and everybody died. The end.”
We were all dying laughing, but the Drill Instructor sat there stone faced. After Toothy was done, Drill Instructor just stood up and said “That is exactly how it happened. Well done,” got up, turned off the lights, and walked out.
We had just got sent to bed maybe an hour ago. I was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, as it was still first phase I was afraid to move from the position of attention lol. I hear the Drill Instructor hatch open and I glance over. All I see is his pointy cover stick out of the door, about a foot off the ground– this dude was low crawling on the floor coming towards my direction. I try to avert my gaze as this large, angry, bald man is skittering across the ground, making a b-line to my bed. I’m staring at the ceiling as I feel my rack start to cave in from his weight. He put his face right next to my ear and whispered
“Hey Stevely7. Wake up. Shh, confident tone.”
“Screw you Stevely7. Goodnight idiot.”
“Aye sir. Good evening sir.”
He then climbed down and low crawled back to this room and slammed the door lol.
I’m not sure how it worked in other training schools, but when we got to class, we had to form up and sing the “Army Song” and recite the “Soldier’s Creed.” Every day.
This daily routine is performed by a soldier pulled – at random – from the formation. Now, this precludes my smart idiot phase, so I was not on the leadership’s radar. (Instructors at the school house are different from those who are responsible for you at the barracks. Think like your grumpy landlord vs a bad professor.)
So, since I was Non-Descript Private #6, I kinda blended in. I hadn’t said a word to any of the leadership outside my classroom, so they didn’t know how my voice sounded.
This went on until the last day, like seriously the last freaking day. Out of the blue, I get called up to sing it out. However, the end was in sight – I could see the light. So, I thought, screw it.
Now, due to my complete lack of athletic ability, general intelligence, or prowess with the ladies, I’ve had to develop a special set of skills. While rescuing daughters would be sweet, I had to settle for the fact that I can make a lot of different “voices” – my favorite being a pretty good imitation of the announcer for Saturday Night Live / Old School Batman narrator.
So I take my place at the head of the formation, and I belt out the “Soldier’s Creed” in the SNL voice. The soldiers started intermittently laughing, but the leadership didn’t really respond – maybe this kid is just a weirdo.
I get through all the songs n’ such, and it comes time to march us in for a riveting day of crap. When you march in a formation (“File from the left, column left!”) the first soldier in each line yells something to their line (either “stand fast” or “forward”, I don’t know, it’s been a minute.) What these cheeky dudes did was copy my voice as best they could. Not cool guys.
And at that moment, the head Non-Commissioned Officer lost his mind. He sprinted over, nose to my cheek, and screamed,
“What the HECK do you think you’re doing?!”
I can turn back, I can fix – y’know, nah.
“Using my COMMAND VOICE, Sergeant!”
So, he lost his freaking mind – pulled me from class to scream at me, tried to give me an article 15 (like an army judicial punishment), all that jazz.
Luckily it didn’t go through, and I got to use my SNL voice to narrate the new privates getting in trouble. “Loook ouuuut privates! Sergeant’s coming! Meeeaaanwhile, in the hallway!”
Soldier spit on the ground while we were all standing around one day. Drill Sergeant told him to “pick it up, and put it in your pocket” because you “can’t leave any traces of yourself in the field”. The look of confusion on the guy’s face as the DS repeats the command.. we all just stood there and watched him try with all his might to pick up his loogey and stick it in his pocket lol.
I went to Navy boot camp in Great Lakes Il in 1991. Every time a recruit quit/got kicked out, the DI would play Queens “Another one bites the Dust” through the barracks loudspeakers.
Not me, but my brother. He was on basic, and the boys decided to do a type of relay race in the hallways. They zipped two dudes, one of which was my brother, into duffel bags. So just their heads were poking out. The objective was simple, two other guys had to run to the end of the hall and back while carrying the duffels. First one back is the winner. Well, halfway through the race the CO walked into the hallway. The boys holding the bags dropped them and everyone booked it back to their rooms. This left my brother and another guy, trapped inside their duffels, desperatley trying to wriggle free while their CO looked on.
We had a guy with a case of pneumonia who Puked after every chow. After his regularly scheduled lunch chow puke a group of seagulls started to pick at his vomit.
The drill instructor said “go fight for your food”
He had to fight off a flock of seagulls and defend his puke pile for a solid 5 minutes.
Middle of the night, 3am, guy goes to the toilet to do his business, sits down, and hears sobbing next to him. Gets freaked out, right? Isolated army camp in the middle of nowhere and in the toilet some thing is sobbing next to you? Hears a croaking sound calling out his name and that was it for him, freaking screams and bursts out of the toilet. Sergeant on night duty comes to see what’s up. Guy explains. Sergeant is also visibly freaked, goes to check it out.
Turns out some guy had gone to the toilet after everyone else went to sleep, forgot to bring his toilet roll with him (regular occurrence apparently, but usually someone else would toss him one when he called out; but this time, he was the last one to use the toilet and so nobody could help him). He didn’t call for help because there was a lights out, no talking policy after 10pm. Literally squatted in the toilet until the lights automatically turned off. Didn’t occur to him to clean up without using toilet paper. So he sat there. Half-dozing, half-awake, till 2am, at which point he starts sobbing. By 3am he scares his poor company mate with his sobbing. He tries to tell the guy about his situation but is too dehydrated and can only croak out inaudible words. Sergeant and the scared guy come along and finally figure this situation out. The sergeant couldn’t even bring himself to punish this guy.
Some guy kept trying to avoid rucksack marches and other physical activity. So when ever he knew we were gonna go out and do physical demanding stuff, he would say he is sick.
We had a rule that if you were sick, you should tell as soon as we do our morning count. Well he usually only called in sick after they said “We are going out in the field with 60 pounds of rucksack”.
One day they had enough and decided to troll him. It was shortly before our christmas/newyear break and he called in sick again.
They told him that they are worried about him being sick so often, so they talked to the medical staff and they want to take him into the hospital over the winter break, to monitor him. He freaked the heck out, because that meant he would have to stay 2 weeks in the military hospital for lying, while the rest gets to enjoy holidays.
He had to call “the doctor”, who was one of our bosses sitting 2 rooms away from him. While they were talking, the boss came out (still on the phone) and everyone saw, who “the doctor” was. Everyone was laughing at him for days.
He quit before ending basic.
A drill instructor from another platoon literally collected tears. He carried around a little vial with with him and usually made comments about what he was going to use said tears for. Pretty funny in retrospect.
On a Sunday after chow we got 2 hours of so called “free time.” We eat then march back to our squad bays. After “our time is up” we muster outside.
This woman showed up to muster without a cover (hat). DI asked what happened to it and she said she left it at the chow hall (2 hours ago). The DI sent her back to look for it.
Now our bay was maybe half a mile from the chow hall. She came back with one boot strapped to her head. Apparently another DI caught her on the way to the chow hall and made her put her boot on hear head (laces around her chin) so that she would not walking around without a cover.
Even our DI could not hold back the laughter. It was epic.
South Carolina, first Sunday of BCT, DS comes into the bay quietly (unusual behavior usually comes in and beats the crap out of the trash can to wake the platoon) he calmy says “Alright it’s Sunday, I like to have Sunday off what do you say we go to the beach” everyone excitedly yells “Hooah Drill Sergeant” as we were taught means yes. We get our PT uniforms on and form up. DS comes out and marches us across the road and into a field where we find a huge sand box. DS says ” Welcome to the beach” Private yells out “I was hoping for Walruses Drill Seargent”. DS says “We will see Walruses Private don’t you worry”. After a few hours of running, Mountain Climbers, and just rolling around to make sure we were as covered in sand as we could be, DS says “Hell Privates I have had a whole lot of fun today I just don’t want to leave, let’s take the beach home with us”. So we proceed to fill sand bags with beach sand DS says “this bag is your new Battle buddy, if you loose your Battle buddy I will personally skull drag you back to the beach and fill your corpse with sand”. “Hooah Drill Seargent” we yelled. We get back to the barracks and this private says “Drill Seargent I was promised Walruses.” DS says “I didn’t forget about Walruses Private, Platoon at this time dump your sandbags out.” After some convincing (Yelling from multiple Drill Seargent’s) we now have a bay full of beach sand. DS says ” Walruses like a little water in their sand don’t they Privates?” Hesitantly yell “Hooah Drill Seargent” DS says “empty your canteens and your packs all the water you have on your person”. Now we have a mess of mud in the bay that we are required to have spotless every morning. DS “you clean this stuff up off my floor” everyone turns to get their towels out of their locker. DS “Where the hell are all of my Walruses going? Get your butts in that water and clean this crap up”. So we proceed to flop around in the water until DS decides he is done for the day and leaves us to figure out how to get the beach out of the barracks.
Now, for the army at least, one of the first “hardcore” tasks you get in training is being sent to the gas chamber. Think a concrete box filled with “Ow, it’s in my eyes!” And you kind of just have to stay put for however your Drill Sergeant decides. (He has a stop watch, but he just swings it at people who don’t take their masks off quick enough.)
So, we march into the suck square, and they close the doors. We rip our masks off and breath in that sweet hookah from hell. After an existential crisis, and rethinking some life decisions (about five minutes total), everyone is looking 31 flavors of screwed up. This crap burns your eyes, your nose, and especially your lungs.
Anyway, everyone’s puking, or crying, and they finally opened the doors to get out, so we stumble out. (One guy tried to get dramatic and crawled out, only to have to repeat it two more times, and he was given the privilege of mopping the chamber after.)
To dissipate the effects, you enter a large clearing and walk in a circle for a few minutes, with your weapon in one hand, your mask in the other. In the middle of this circle is a raised platform where a drill sergeant will perch, making sure we don’t die.
However, as we burst from the chamber we heard a voice from the platform. “Hey privates, this crap is for you!”
He proceeded to blast Miley Cyrus’ beloved “Party in the USA” over a loud speaker, dancing the whole time, while a group of vomit-encrusted, grown men walked around him crying. It was like the strangest religious ceremony of all time.
Strangely, I somehow love that freaking song.
Marine corps boot camp. First day out in the rifle range. The supervision out there is a little more lax, so the drill instructors can get away with a lot more. For whatever reason my kill hat stopped me in front of where there was a washer and dryer. He yells” thegino, ever want to be an astronaut?!!” Being the good recruit I yell ” yes sir!” He responds ” good, get in your space capsule ” He immediately orders me into the dryer( I only get in half way) and turns it on for on revolution allowing me to flip all the way around before stopping it and probably walking away to hide his laughter. Good times.
So, we had a guy in my flight, we will call him Tim, who would sleep in the Dracula fashion. Feet straight and together, arm across the chest and the best part, eyes wide open. It didn’t help that Tim looked like a goblin already.
We were all sitting in a classroom, I think the instructor was teaching about not smoking or STDs or something, when suddenly he stops talking and just stares into us. “What the hell is he doing?!” Broke his silence and we all looked around to see what he was talking about. Lo and behold Tim had fallen asleep during the class, not normally a big deal for most people, because they just yell at us to wake up and to stand in the back of the room. But Tim was different mind you, so when he fell asleep, his eyes were open and staring into the instructor, and his head and slumped to the side to the extent his ear was touching his shoulder. It was a sight. What made it better was it took a bit to wake him up, so it looked like he was dead. Freaked the instructor out in all kinds of ways.
I can’t remember the guy’s name, he was in my Company but a different platoon from me. Nature hated this man.
One day, we were sitting down after pugil stick training to eat our MRE’s. This dude sees a raccoon and think “Hey, I should feed the little guy!” So he hands a cracker to the raccoon. The raccoon first takes the cracker with his cute little hands, then bites the crap out of the guy’s hand and runs off. Dude didn’t need stitches, but had to get rabies shots afterwards.
Fast forward a few weeks. We’re on our last ruck march, on a trail in South Carolina. I’m just trudging along, kinda zoned out, when I see some commotion up ahead and a large shadow passing through the woods. Word comes down the line, turns out that the same dude who got bit by a raccoon was run down by a deer. Thing just came out of the woods, knocked him over, and ran off.
Kid swore he’d never live anywhere but the city after that.
I went into Basic in the middle of December, I was one of the older guys and knew enough to keep my mouth shut so most time passed uneventfully. The TI’s had holiday over Christmas, so we basically hung out in the dorm and cleaned everything all day.
Christmas Eve rolls around and everybody is pretty somber. Some of the kids with me had never been away from home and the holidays were hitting pretty hard for them.
Me and a couple other guys were cleaning the bathroom and shower. And I’m not sure why but I just started singing Christmas carols. I was never blessed with good tone, but I do have good volume and pretty soon, the other guys cleaning with me joined in. We sang several favorites and I think we ended on “Silent Night”.
What we did not realize was the tiled bathroom was creating an echo chamber and amplifying our voices considerably.
We walked out of the bathroom and into the main dorm to see about 70 guys sitting on their bunks crying their eyes out.
One guy looked up and me and said without a blink, “You guys are awful” and then went back to sobbing into his pillow.
I couldn’t help it….I busted out laughing. It was the most pathetic thing I had ever seen and it was funny as hell.
The sergeants always checked through our mail in basic, to make sure we weren’t getting anything that might’ve been frowned upon for having. One of the guys in my platoon got sent Oreos from his mom, and of course the sergeants saw it first.
They called this guy out to stand in front of is all and announced that he got a package. Sergeant brought out the box and said “Looks like you got some cookies from your mom, Chaves. I think I saw some spiders in it earlier, let me make sure there aren’t any.” He threw the package down in front of Chaves and stomped the crap out of it, then he said “There, all dead.”
Chaves ate every last crumb from those crushed Oreos off the ground. Hands down the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.
Not military but one of my older vet friends shared this one with me:
He was in basic for the navy when this happened. The Drill Sergeant had all the recruits line up and told them that when he pointed to them, they were to charge him and put him on the ground. I guess it was the start of hand to hand training or something. He would point to the first guy, he would charge the instructor, and get put down. “IF YOUR BUTT TOUCHES THE DIRT, IT STAYS IN THE DIRT UNTIL I TELL IT TO GET UP!” He pointed at the next one. Charge, slam. Rinse and repeat a few more times until it gets to CJ (Friend). When the DI pointed at him, he just shook his head. The DI pointed at him again, with more “UMPH”. CJ just shook is head and said “Nope”. The DI got mad but didn’t say anything. He just pointed to the next guy and so on.
When it was all said and done, CJ was the only one standing. DI said, “Since you decided to disobey a direct order, and refused to acknowledge me as Sir, give me 50!” CJ obliged. When he was done, the DI asked CJ why he did not obey the order. His response was, “You ordered me into a suicide mission, sir!” The DI responded, “Since you can’t follow orders I need you to run an errand for me. Take this and go get me two Mountain Dews.” He hands him a $10 bill. CJ runs off to get the drinks.
When he gets back he hands the DI the drinks and the change. The DI yells, “I am going to make an example out of Johnson! He disobeyed a direct order. This separates him from the rest of you. Can anyone tell me how?” One of the privates answered, “Because he can’t follow orders!” The DI countered with, “Because he is not dead. Since he is apparently the only one here with a functioning brain, we are going to watch the rest of you idiots dig your graves with your hands.” Then he turns to CJ, “Here, have a drink.”
They were half-way done when they were told to fill in the graves because the Mountain Dew just gave the DI the power to resurrect morons.
Out at the range…we’re eating lunch. MREs.
One particularly naive private, upon finding that his MRE lacked a spoon, asked the Drill Sergeant if he had any spare “silverware”.
They called him “Rockefeller” for the rest of BCS.
As for the rest of us, we were ordered to, at all times, have an MRE spoon upon our person. PT, sleep, ruck march… didn’t matter. The drill sergeant would, almost daily, ask the platoon to produce their spoons. Went pretty well for a while, until someone lost their spoon and didn’t replace it before the “inspection”.
Well, the spoonless private was made “supervisor” of our sandbag filling operation that lasted over the next several hours.
I bet you can’t guess what we had to use to fill up our sandbags…
Now, mail call is a beautiful thing. In all honesty, I’d never been more excited for anything in my life than that first Basic Training letter – I don’t think I ever will be again. If you want to see a 30-something father nearly crap himself with glee, have his daughter send him a drawing two weeks in. A beautiful, beautiful thing.
Why is mail call so important? Well, there’s absolutely no connection to the outside world. If we were invaded by an army of flying spaghetti monsters, we wouldn’t know until we smelled the meatballs, y’dig? Also, this is your only means of communication with the family – We received one 30 second phone call upon arrival, and a one minute phone call about a month in.
Anyways, our mail got delayed until about week three, so we got it in droves. Honestly, it felt like Christmas. You’ve got adults anxiously bouncing up and down like kids checking to see they made Varsity.
Since I was the only member of my graduating class who shipped, and I was semi-cool in high school (don’t worry, I peaked,) I received seven letters, from seven different women (I have kept every letter, to this day). Six of these were your typical white envelopes, with the coveted writing of a college girl. The seventh, however, was one of those large, brown envelopes – also with girl writing.
Now, with any letter larger than the typical size, the Drill Sergeant had to open it to make sure there wasn’t anything fun in there. In this particular instance, the only Drill Sergeant on duty was our Senior Drill Sergeant – mid 30’s, tabbed out, he made Mount Rushmore look expressive.
So, Senior Drill Sergeant grabs my letter and rips it open. He finds a long letter, written in an obviously feminine way. There are also some pictures of friends, a few funny comic strips (that were confiscated) and last but not least, a glamor head shot of the stunning Miss Natalie Portman.
My buddy, also a wise guy, attended the same university as the girl who sent me the letter, and decided to slip in a professional-grade picture of my celebrity crush.
Well, Senior Drill Sergeant has spent entirely too long in the sandbox doing secret squirrel things – he’s not familiar with Miss Portman’s work. He pulls out this picture, looks at her, looks at me, and says,
“Private, is this your girlfriend?”
I stand motionless, terrified as usual. A pause.
The Senior Drill Sergeant nods his head approvingly “Hell yeah kid!” and he proceeds to give me the manliest fist bump I received in my life. It was glorious.
I happily posted that picture in my wall locker, until one of my dirty nasty squad mates “borrowed it.” Gross.