BCT Day 36
The following information is a portion of “Marck’s Boot Camp Diary”. The information contains a straight-forward look at Basic Training Life on a daily basis. The information contained within this page is used with the express written permission of the author. For more information about the author view the “Author’s Information” at the bottom of the page. Some choice phrases have been censored.
August 29th, 2002
Today we hit the 20s of time remaining until graduation. 29 more days. Less than one month. Here I am sitting at the boring bleachers again waiting to shoot.
Yesterday, like seven of us got the dogshit smoked out of us, including me. We had to do bear crawls up and down the pit for minor ****-ups during marching practice. You know how bears get around on all fours with an arched back? Well try doing that back and forth countless times. We must’ve covered the size of a few soccer fields. It ranks in the top three smokings. My arms were shaking, my legs were burning, and my glasses were covered in sweat. My arms and legs are dead today.
I hope to qualify the first time we shoot so I can go back to the barracks early. D.S. said he’ll take us back and let us chill out. Comon Isabella, baby. We can do it…
Of course, I can’t do anything right the first time. I shot a ************* 14. This range is harder than yesterday. I was nervous, I wasn’t comfortable in my position, I forgot to put my earplugs in, and worst of all, I couldn’t see the ******* far away targets because of the sun in my face and they’re tiny. I didn’t shoot all my rounds either. I was even missing the close targets. I’m such a piece of ****. I feel like **** right now. Why am I so ******* stupid? I got 24 yesterday. I had all that practice and I go back to being a *******failure. I hate myself right now. I want to cry. If I don’t get it today, I get recycled. It’s gonna take me all day to get from 14 to 23. I wanted to go back to the barracks and chill. ****. The sun will be higher the next time I go, so that might help. I probably have permanent ear damage now. I have to sit in the bleachers forever now until I go next feeling sorry for myself. I have to get 23 next time. I have to. Nine more freakin’ targets. ****. I wasn’t even close. I wish I was at the range from yesterday. At least I’m not the only one from my platoon who ****** up. Next time, I’m using all my rounds, take my time to get comfortable, open my ******* eyes, and relax. I wish I could talk to one of you guys right now. At least if I got close like 20, 21. But damn! 14. I got it yesterday. There’s no reason or excuse why I can’t get it today. There is a void filled with paranoia in me. I don’t handle failure well. I need to relax. But I’m under such intense pressure. The only thing I can do to stabilize the calamity that I am right now is qualifying. I am setting my mind on qualifying next time. No excuses, no exceptions. Man, guys from my platoon are dropping like flies. There are six so far who failed. I hope they’re taking it better than I am. I need to relax. I wish I was home right now. I miss you, Cendy, mom, dad. Less than a month to see you when I qualify next time. WHEN I qualify. If is NOT an option. In a few hours I WILL be M16 A2 rifle qualified. I will NOT be here all day. Next turn I am qualified. No excuse. No ex-*******-cuse. I am broken right now. I will pick up my shackles though. In 28 days I will be with you all.
It’s 30-45 mins later. I gave myself a mental check. They say if you put your mind to it, you can achieve anything. Well, I set my mind to qualify on my next chance. There is nothing to it. I am relaxed and I’ve made peace with myself. Those little ******* are gonna wish they never popped their asses out (again).
WOOOOOO! I am a rifle marCKsman. I hit 24 little ******* and got my rifle marCKsman badge pinned on my uniform by the company commander. I can go on with basic training knowing that I met one of my toughest challenges. Damn, that sounded just like a damn army commercial. I’m sorry.
Man, I just read what I wrote today. I am really hard on myself. I do not handle failure well at all. It gets intense when I write in stream of consciousness. There is no time to reflect, no time to censor, no time to pick and choose wording. It is straight raw thoughts and emotions. I scare myself when I write like that. I become vulnerable. Next challenge: hand grenades.