Author: Charles Gibson

Any injury was (not usually debilitating) were imparted by the platoon members on those that just didn’t get it or we’re inept. It usually consisted of a hard nudge by one or more of the other recruits or verbal education as to the turd balls need to stop doing things or improve in one or another activity so the rest of the platoon didn’t have to suffer the idiots idiocy. I did experience one that got me “this recruit” a black eye just before an inspection in our greens by the company CO. Want to see some scared and pissed off DIs, man. My rake was by the door of the Quonset hut and we were all doing things that needed to be done for the upcoming inspection. I was polishing my M14s stock, standing by the rake near the hatch. The Senior DI was “coaching” in a loud a boistous manner another recruit, that was short skinny little guy in the fashion of Motimer Snerd and very “INEPT” that we nick name Weasel and couldn’t seem to do any thing right including put his name in his scivies even with his “loving, caring, nurturing Senior DI, “calmly” instructing him in that manly art. It was quite noisy in there as I recall. And a lot of those terms we heard every day were being uttered in rapidfire fashion and all the rest of the recruits present, of course, were feeling sorry for that poor soul, with very small smiles on our faces. When, the DI decided there was nothing more that he could do and decided to leave, in a hurry, I, unfortunately, got in his way as he stormed out of the hut muttering his displeasure. I turned and ran smack dab into you know who, the Rifle butt hitting me in the face, with an eventual black eye. He did nt slow down and let me know of his displeasure.
I, “this recruit” was called then to the dreaded home of our beloved DIs knocked on the frame of the hatch in the proper manner that, “thank GOD” and was admitted to the inner sanctum, for the only time while at MCRDSD, for a few question from the entire cadre of DIs asigned to our care and education. I was asked what I was going to say viza vee the black eye, in as many way as could be asked by all. I was then dismissed, did a perfect, if very nervous about face got the hell out of there. As I ran for my life back to my asigned home for 12 weeks. Upon entering I was told that the Senior DI was outside his home away from home slashing the air at my back with his sword. Looking back, obviously to amuse the rest of the platoon. At inspection I was asked about the black eye, DUH, and dutifully reported the truth of the matter to our CO that I had met my Senior DI in a big Oops at the door, etc.
By the way, Weasel turned out to be a good guy in the end and after additional instruction of our friendly DIs and counsel of eventual friends.
C.M. Gibson, SSgt Aircraft Radio replacement expert for A4 C- E and shop assistand supervisor, at the end, 1963 – 9. Fun time. Semper Fi! read more

Became friendly with a Chaplain in boot camp as he was available on Sunday to us- and I guess I wanted to talk to someone other than the DI’s to keep my sanity. He asked me after I graduated on Graduation Day if I wanted to talk to unfortunate recruits in P O U and the S T B platoons. He explained what the recruits in P O U did all day- stand in skivvies all day- with a corpsman at a desk and D I ‘s ( who were trying to make or break them)- one recruit I was told by the Chaplain – said he could not take it – while on the second deck- ran to a door and out the hatch- went over a railing and fell one story to the deck below- really hurting himself. Spoke to these recruits and I hope I gave them some confidence to get ahead – and try to go back to a unit. Also, visited the S T B- with the chaplain- overweight and underweight recruits were whipped into shape- carrying buckets of wet sand for motivation- or P T to death to get stamina up – tried to instill a little pride in them too- The Chaplain was Protestant – not my religion either- but he had a way with us Marines and motivated me more than I thought he could- as we have to believe in something during boot camp. read more

Joined the USMC in 1960 with four of my friends from the south side of Chicago. Had the usual Drill Instructor screaming and shouting on arrival in San Diego. Raced with much encouragement into the Quonset Hut with two recruits standing by each bunk bed with the mattresses rolled up on each bed. Then into the doorway came this relatively short Drill Instructor yelling attention. He looked as if the starched creases on his uniform could cause serious gashes and he had a long cigar in his mouth and I am know the ashes were afraid to fall off. He looked around at the group and then came directly to the back of the hut where I was.
He then addressed me with the forceful thrust of his right palm to my midsection and I fell back on the springs unable to find any air that would go into my lungs. He started screaming at me and asking me where I was from. Still could not get my breath. Then he was on top of me with me laying on the rack on my back. He started screaming again the question as to where I was from. By this time he was sort of “examining” my neck and throat and I tried to answer and say Chicago. He didn’t understand my guttural speech at the time and thought I said South Dakota. He then said as he yanked me up that no piece of -I will use the term human excrement – from South Dakota had ever made it in his Marine Corps. As he was leaving my bedside as I was just starting to stand up he then addressed my mid section forcing me to find some air again. I must say I had the thought at that moment of what the sam hell have I gotten myself into. However I made Guide and graduated PFC and loved the Corps ever since. read more

Back in 1957 at MCRD-PI Plt 232, 2nd Bn. the threat used by Drill Instructors were to send you the POU and kick you ass out of the Corps. At that time it stood for “Psychiatric Observation Unit” and only one of our Plt. was sent, he was a Reserve 90 day guy and he had a total melt down in front of the Plt. the Drill Instructors were always trying to get to him and they did. Once at POU he was still there at PI for long after we completed AIT at Lejune, he ended up with a medical discharge. No one wanted to go to that Unit and have the Shrinks looking into your life. read more

Well I had just turned 15 years old when I climbed on the train for South Carolina. What an adventure! It was a living hell. I cried everyday for 63 days until they discovered my age. I might say I was still there and hanging on. The Gunny pulled me out and I thought it was over only to discover they had discovered my age. read more

A friend of mine,Mark, from high school joined the Corps in the “Buddy System” in the summer of 1972. We were in the same platoon in boot camp, One morning when we were woken up, I realized Mark was gone. everyday for several weeks, he was missing and we never told why. I was worried and couldn’t understand as Mark was a great recruit and a “scribe” for the DIs. One afternoon,Mark shows back up. As it turned out, Mark had gotten the measels!! Because he was a great recruit, he was not set back. Back then and probably still the same now, we were on a need to know basis only. I was never happier than to see my friend back with us. Semper Fi! read more

I was a young man from the eastern shore of Maryland. My buddy and I always wanted to be Marines. On 28 June 1962 we signed up on the 120 day plan. I was 17 at the time and had never done much but play around. We left for P I on 25 Sept ’62 and arrived in Yesmassee SC at night. All of us know what happens from that point. I was a scared kid but wanted to be a Marine so I could do anything. On 26 Sept. we were picked up by our D I”s and headed to Plt 375. On 31 Oct ’62 my DI put me in his car and took me to the POU unit located in the 2nd Battalion. I wasn’t sure what was happening and he said i wasn’t keeping up with the standards that was expected. read more

I was reading an earlier story about “Moto platoon” and it spurred this memory. I enlisted in the delayed entry program in April of ’74 and arrived at M.C.R.D. San Diego on Sept. 23, ’74 (Plt.3105). As the title indicated, I weighed 165 lbs. at 6 foot nothing, and was also a “Nerd” of sorts. Hung out with my “T.V. production” class and was not involved in sports at all during school. When it came time to do pull-ups during the initial days of first phase, I couldn’t do one pull-up. So for the next 2.9 months, every day after morning, noon and night chow call, I was at the pull-up bars doing pull-ups with my “Helper”. Needless to say, I was more than able to do the minimum to pass the P.F.T. for graduation. When my first wife and I went to the premier of “Full Metal Jacket”, and Gunny Hartman yelled at Pvt. Pyle “You look like 165 lbs. of chewed bubblegum” it brought back that particular memory. I was threatened with Motto a few times but I guess my slow but eventual improvement helped them come to the proper decision and let me graduate with my platoon on time. When I graduated in Dec. of ’74, I stood 6’1″ tall and weighed 135 lbs.! Wish I weighed that now. Semper Fi! read more

I was in Gitmo the summer of ’66 when one of our Marines shot and killed a Cuban sentry who was climbing over the fence. Castro gave us 12 days to get out or he said he would “blow us out.” By the time it got down to the second day there was a USN fleet just off the coast with a Russian fleet right behind them. It was kept quiet because of the turmoil between the “anti-establishment” movement, race and women’s rights movements and the anti- Vietnam protests. Does ANYONE recall being there then? …You still out there “T”? read more