Woman Marine - Boot Camp, Parris Island, SC

         To say I wasn't prepared for what awaited me at Parris Island is an understatement. But it wasn't long before I knew why my dad wore that "all knowing" smirk up to the day I left. This was my first time away from home and it was an eye-opener! Our bus arrived at Parris Island in the wee hours of the morning and I don't recall being allowed to sleep that night. Time was spent getting "squared away". As dawn approached, more recruits kept arriving until each bunk was claimed.

        At a very loosely formed formation that morning, we were informed that we were Platoon 2A. The rest was a blur as rules and regulations were coming at us from all directions. We got measured for uniforms, had fatigues issued, had a physical, met with our drill instructors and on and on..... I had never experienced such lack of privacy in my life. By day two, we were in full swing from pre-dawn revelry until lights out. A bed, no matter how uncomfortable, never felt so good!

        In addition to our female drill instructors, we also had a male drill instructor who was determined to teach us which foot was left and which one was right. Now, if you are a "shoe-person", the issued black oxfords were enough to want you to keep your feet moving fast so no one could get a glimpse of those shoes!! If you dislike this color of green, GET USED TO IT. You will wake, work, eat and sleep this color day and night. The best way to describe those early days of boot camp was IN YOUR FACE. Loud voices combined with verbal humiliation here and there. It wasn't like any camp-out I had attended before. And need I mention all the sand fleas!

         Days were spent with drills, exercise workouts that never ended, swimming (not recreational), classes on military history, regulations, office skills and much more. The only time the body would stop was to sit down for a meal. But mealtime was unique unto itself. It only took a day or two to learn that you have a very limited time to eat. You took only what you could eat and finish in that allotted time, so there was no time to visit with each other. And you would learn the hard way that since the mess hall was operated by men, you were not to make eye contact with any male for any reason. More about that later. The food went down fast so you could get back into formation to begin a rigorous round of workouts. It was about 2 weeks before everyone had toughened up enough to keep the food down.

         The marching seemed to never end and the longer it took us to get it right, as a group, the longer we all marched. Every muscle in the body ached and at workouts we would try to keep from moaning and drawing attention to ourselves and being singled out for more. A word of advise...if you plan to enlist in the military...WORK OUT, WORK OUT, WORK OUT! Be sure you get those muscles in top shape before going. I didn't. I took my couch potato, teenage shopping spree body direct to boot camp. What a mistake. Wish someone had warned me.

         As the sun would set and you would believe another day was over, the work would just begin. There was cleaning of the barracks (and I do mean clean!), washing, starching and ironing of uniforms, studying, polishing shoes and anything else that didn't move until it was like a mirror, 15 minutes to write the mandatory letters home, preparing belongings for any of the numerous surprise inspections that took place and maybe time to go to the bathroom after holding it all day. Then it was lights out. Morning came much too fast and you would be back in formation in the dark with the rain and wind blowing all around you.

         My fondest memory of boot camp was in the earliest days when we were told to form a single line. Oh, good, getting measured for more uniforms. It wasn't until you reached the head of the line that you realized that you had two medics coming at you from each side with air-propelled needle guns. With both sleeves pushed back, the shots hit home before you knew what was happening. I swear there must have been 10 shots from each gun simultaneously. Both arms immediately became painful and limp at each side. It was agony. BUT then the drill instructors decided this was good timing for a rigorous workout "so the arms wouldn't stiffen up". Every minute was pure torture. The only consolation was that you weren't alone. That night everyone slept on their backs without moving and the next morning it was an effort to lift an arm to put on your shirt. But there was no time in the schedule to suffer.

         We were still 80 or so individuals and hadn't yet learned that as a team, life would be easier; but alone we all suffered for the misdeeds or lack of effort of the others.   I still don't know what took us so long to learn that little lesson.

          In the 60's I should point out that women were not trained for direct combat as I am sure they are today. It was constantly being stressed that we were "women first and Marines second". I sure didn't feel very "womanly"! If I recall right, I believe we actually even had a class on doing our makeup.

Today, however, things at Parris Island have probably changed a lot and are even tougher. Women are assuming roles in combat zones and the training would require even more rigorous endeavors on the part of the recruits. So I greatly admire those women in the current day Marines and can only imagine what their boot camp experiences were like.