Are you ready to become a barrel-chested freedom fighter? The U.S. military is meeting its recruiting numbers, which means someone is sitting across from a recruiter at this minute being fed a line of shit that tastes like pure ‘Murica. If that’s you, read ahead. If that’s not you, what are you waiting for? Drive your 2004 Honda Accord to the crappy strip mall where they sell hair supplies, look to your left, and enter the U.S. military recruiter’s office. Thank me later.
How To Prepare For Basic Training
Let’s get this out of the way. Joining the military is honorable. Serving your country is a higher purpose. The reason you joined doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s because you want to serve, or because it gets you out of your small town, where you’ve been working the night shift at a convenience store. No one cares. They call it “the service” because you’re putting the needs of the country over you’re desires. Kudos. Now shut up, stand on the yellow footprints, and get ready for the spit to hit your face as you stand motionless, being yelled at by a guy in a Smokey the Bear hat. It would be adorable in any other situation.
Each branch of service conducts basic training in a slightly different manner. Some are longer, some are shorter, some are softer, some are harder – like penises. Regardless of which one you decide, you’ll be stroking for the next four to six years; they all serve the same function: to break you down and build you back up as a proud member of the U.S. Armed Services. Below are some tips and tricks to make it a bit easier in your evolution from being a “civilian” to being a member of the greatest fighting force ever to walk the planet.
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How to Arrive
During the first few days of basic training, your primary goal is to avoid being noticed. Think of all the poor bastards standing next to you as you arrive as a school of fish – you want to be the fish in the middle. The ones on the outside are more likely to get noticed and picked off by predators. The worst-case scenario is that you get a nickname on day one, which will not only haunt you but also be the first name the drill sergeants call out when they need a volunteer.
What to wear: Jeans and a gray t-shirt. You’re Jason Bourne. You blend in to any environment. You don’t want to be the guy wearing a military shirt. That’s blood in the water for drill instructors to berate you for ‘thinking on your first fucking day at basic training, you are bestowed the honor of wearing a shirt that says you’re a Marine.’
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Like fishing lures, bright colors attract attention which create feeding frenzies around you. Leave the fluorescent orange tydeid shirt at home. The time between when you arrive and when you get issued uniforms is when you’re affectionately known as a “rainbow” because you look like a bag of Skittles marching around, while everyone else is perfectly color-coordinated.
What to Bring
The less, the better. You’ll be instructed to exit the bus and stand on the yellow footprints with your bag. This isn’t a vacation, so pack light. A backpack is recommended because drill sergeants like to play a game called “put it down / pick it up.” This is where you’ll put your bag down. If a noise is heard, you’ll get to pick it up.
It can last for hours, with the desired outcome being that no noise is made while setting your bag down. This is a lie. You and your new best friends could be silent as a shart, and it won’t matter. Pack a light bag and laugh (quietly in your head) as you watch the guy with the 40-pound purple suitcase, emblazoned with “JUICY” on the side, break down.
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How to Look:
Cut your hair hippie. Don’t show up to basic training looking like Bob Ross. Shave also, or you’ll learn the joys of a single-blade razor dry shave—no reason to shave your head prior. You’re going to get a haircut regardless. The guy who comes in bald gets to sit in the barber’s seat, look in the mirror, question his life choices, and hold back tears, just like the rest of you.
Fun fact: you get to pay for your haircuts. They’ll be deducted from your pay or a charge account. At the other end of the spectrum, don’t show up with a high and tight (high and stupid) haircut unless you’re prepared to explain to the drill sergeants why you think you’ve earned that haircut. You haven’t. Enjoy the spittle on your face from being yelled at.
Bonus point: Bring shower shoes (such as sandals) for your first shower. They have to allow you time to shower, and you can’t shower in bare feet. You don’t want to ruin your new Nike Air Jordan’s so bring a pair of sandals, strip naked, stand in line with your new best friends, and walk through the shower. First shower done. Oh, did I forget to mention the gratuitous amounts of nudity? My eyes are up here, so gaze lower at your own risk.
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Meals and Lines
Get used to standing in lines. Everywhere you go, you’ll stand in a line of some sort. Some are multiple lines (called a formation), and others are just a long-ass line. Understand you’ll be waiting in them at all times. Now think back to 3rd-grade picture day – tallest to the front, shortest to the back, alphabetical order, you name it; you can make a line out of it.
This is where the term “hurry up and wait” comes from. You’ll hurry to get in a line and wait there until your back aches. Then, and only then, can you race to get in another line to form a line, to march to a place, and stand in line to wait to do…something. This is a great time to meet new friends because many of the lines are “heel to toe” or “nut to butt.” Get used to it. This is your new normal.
Three times a day, you’ll get to stand in line and walk into a restaurant called the “chow hall” to have food served on your plate. Worry not, if you’re vegan, the meatloaf is meat-free as far as anyone cares. Once you arrive at your table, eat as quickly as you can. They have to give you meals, but there’s no law saying you’ll get to eat them. Inhale your food like Joey Chestnut at the hot dog eating contest. Do not, under any circumstances, get up to get milk or cake. They put those out to test your intelligence. Drill sergeants will mercilessly attack the first person who feels they’re worthy of cake.
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Physical Training (PT) and Getting Sick
Arrive at basic training in good physical shape. You’ll notice the people on the bus come in all shapes, but the one shape you don’t want to be is round. This isn’t The Biggest Loser. You’re not here to lose half your body weight. You’re going to run a lot. Probably more than you’ve ever run in your life. If basic training is the first place you’ve run two miles without stopping, you’re going to hurt. Do yourself a solid, put down the Doritos, slap on a pair of running shoes, and train before you go. If you don’t, your knees and ankles will hurt like you’re an 80-year-old arthritic man.
If you can’t do the physical activity, you’ll be sent to “sick call,” which is like the island of misfit toys. The doctor, if you get to see one, will give you 800 milligrams of ibuprofen and send you back. Now you have the attention of the drill sergeants. You’ll also be sharing a room with 40 men, so you’re bound to get a cold.
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Sorry, love, there are no sick days at basic training unless you’re sent to the hospital. Learn to function sick and hurt. You’ll learn the difference between an injury (“the bone is sticking out of my leg, drill sergeant”) and ouchies. The best you’ll get at sick call is some decongestants, horse pills, and a brown paper bag to hold them, which may as well be a Scarlet Letter that you’re a pussy.
People You’ll Meet
All basic training classes have the same people. Here are a few of the characters you’ll meet.
1) The guy you can’t understand: He’s from Louisiana and, after hearing him speak, you’ll wonder if Louisiana is in the U.S.
2) The guy who had a scholarship but chose the military: He was valedictorian, had a full-ride scholarship to Harvard, and is full of shit. Ignore him.
3) Horse Cock Henry: You’ll be showering as a group, and he’ll be the guy wearing glasses who looks like a goofball. You can’t help but see it, and it will haunt your dreams.
4) The crier: He’ll miss home, his family, and his dogs. Judge him. He knew what he was getting into.
5) Your new best friend: You’ll meet him, and you’ll stay in touch for the rest of your lives.
Welcome Aboard!
First off, thank you for your service. As a former military guy and current “civilian,” I appreciate it. I’ve been where you’re about to be, and it’s worth it. You’re going to be broken down and built back up as a proud member of the U.S. military.
At times, it’s going to suck, but somehow, you’ll look back at it fondly. You’ll enter as a rainbow and exit as a barrel-chested freedom fighter. Finding yourself a bit tougher, sharper, and more badass. You’ll learn how to function while exhausted, make lifelong friends, and see them naked…repeatedly. You’ll love it, hate it, and miss it when it’s over. It’s worth it.
