Published on September 22nd, 2011 | by Tommy Sunshine2
Ahhh love my Marine Corps!
As many folks already know I’m a Marine. Well I’m not active duty anymore or even a reservist, but once a Marine, always a Marine, so I still claim that title! I’ve shied away from utilizing my Marine Corps experiences in comedy primarily because most of my material in this regard is long and storied.
I’ve typically been trying to make jokes which have only recently begun to turn into stories. I’m trying to learn how to take my storys which I’ve told over, over, and over again while sitting around drinking a brew with friends and condense them into a form which can be sharp and edgy. Rather then struggle with this and harm what I feel is my history with the Marine Corps, I’ve opted instead to hack and slash away at more current stuff, ie: the creepy guy, marriage(s), topical, etc… But I’m beginning to come to a point where I want to try taking on this old stuff and wanted to share some of my ideas I’ve got kicking around.
These are simply ideas which I’ve scribbled down on my writing pad and not figured out yet but I think you’ll perhaps see some fun in them and perhaps even be able to add to or shut down some of them, well whatever, enjoy!
Boot camp is a scary place, obviously and I wish to capitalize upon this with both Marines and those of you who can only imagine the pure terror of having to stand motionless whilst getting soaked in your drill instructors slobber.
Everyone in boot camp has a footlocker. You’d think the footlocker would be neat an organized and perhaps some were… Until the Atom Bomb came. Oh yes, the atom bomb, I’ll let you take a wag at what this was, suffice it to say it involved, DI’s, Recruits, and every footlocker in the platoon being turned upside down in the middle of the squad bay. The DI’s always prided themselves on the peculiar type of voice they used. In this case it was an interestingly amused sing song voice, “ATOMMMMMMMM BOMMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBBBBB!” To which we would a reply, “Sir, Atom Bomb, Aye Aye SIR!”
I love the simple commands like, “get it done now move!” Or, how about this, why can’t DI’s count? They give ya 60 seconds to make your rack counting down in their bullhorn voice, but its like 60….59….58….57….45…38…30..20..15.9.821, YOUR DONE!!! STO OPPPPPPPP, “Sir Stop Aye Aye Sir!”
The first day of boot camp the DI’s would bring in a dude from another platoon and thrash the hell out of him. He was a 3rd phase about to graduate recruit and took it all in with ease. It was amazing seeing this dude get tore up by the DI’s and never break a sweat or seem nervous. Little did we realize this was going to be us 3 months later. More then 1 of us got to do the same for other platoons. The mental game is unreal, need to figure this shit out and exploit the funny wherever it is.
GET IN THE PIT BITCHES!?!! Oh god, the dreaded words every recruit hates to hear…
Its no wonder Marines are alcoholics, they’re introduced to the Whiskey Locker week one and god forbid it isn’t utilized on a daily basis! Just pray you don’t have a confrontation with the DI’s in there!
Camp Schwab, Okinawa, Ja. Schwab? Really? The base with 1 American woman on board and maybe 20 old ass Okinawan Momma sans! Mess duty here sucked butt almost as bad as boot camp mess duty. All the leftover chow was saved for some old Okinawan who’d come by with big trash cans to take to his pigs.
The gulf war stuff, a wide and varied assortment of mayhem, madness, death and destruction. The Iraqi soldiers lived in these shit box bunkers dug into the ground to protect themselves from our relentless bombing. One of my crazy platoon buds found a pack of smokes while we were clearing the bunkers. Off a dead iraqi and Boz was the happiest fuck I’d ever seen, “What, nobody ganked this guys smokes yet? Hell yeah boys, the smoking lamp is lit!”
Field day is Thursday bitches. On Schwab sometimes SSGT Sanders would have us up till 3-4am stripping the deck and re-waxing till we had that shit glowing. Rumor had it, if the inspecting officer slipped and fell upon entering your room, you’d get an automatic outstanding without him going through your room since your floor was so glassy.
The stupid fucking weapons that America outfits their warriors with at times. Namely the dragon, what a piece of shit! Some fat fuck got rich off of these ‘cuz he knew the right guy in the pentagon.
The HMMWV Hummer, HummV is a prime example of the above too. Piece of shit.
Everyone is a christian, jew, muslim, mormon, or some other religious preference in boot camp. 2 Hours away from the DI’s for church on Sunday was enough to make anyone god fearing. Then it was amazing how quickly Marines turn to spending Sundays recovering from hangovers once they left bootcamp and hit the fleet.
Targets were napkins and glasses were grenades in the boot camp chow halls. Mental reinforcement. Keep both hands on that grenade recruit, sound off for that target! Hah and the recruits on mess duty in a further phase then you would fill your heads with horror stories as you passed them by. Watch out for mount Mother Fucker recruit it will kick your ass. Yep they were right. The di sang the twisted sister song, “We ain’t gunna make it, no we can’t take it, we ain’t gunna make it, up mount mother fucker!!!” Always forever trying to destroy your mental strength to make you stronger… I guess it worked, we made it.
The most finely honed sense a Marine discovers in boot camp is that of smell. Every visitor Sunday you could smell the pussy coming from a mile away drenched in that sweet smelling perfume… Ladys ever wanna see 80 marching hard ons? Show up to a Marine Corps Recruit Depot on a Sunday morning douse on the perfume and go trot by the chow hall. Absolutely evil, I tell ya!
The biggest fear in boot camp was that of getting set back to another platoon a week or two behind you and having to spend another second longer in that shit hole then you had to.
Just a buncha shit you know Just tapping the surface really and not in format obviously but I think there is some great stuff here. What you think?