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The Yellow footprints

posted Mar 31, 2016, 3:00 AM by Bryan Brito   [ updated Mar 31, 2016, 1:04 PM by karen.potvin@msad52.org ]
Thursday morning 
Wednesday was an incredible day.  As we started for the base it was still dark none of us had any idea what to expect.  I waited in expectant anticipation.  
The bus parked on the base, the Marines who had been with us for the past 12 hours unceremoniously got off the bus and we waited in silence for just a few moments before the drill instructor began to scream for us to get off the bus.  
Startled, we jumped and tried to rapidly get off the bus.  We ran to the yellow footprints and searched for the right place to stand while the drill instructor barked orders and demanded that we respond, louder, louder, louder.  
We then matched into receiving where we were ordered to stand and sit, stand and sit, stand and sit, until we said I sir loud enough for the drill instructor.  Finally we settled in for the first briefing.  
We left the briefing to take pictures and observe recruits training thinking that the yelling was over, interesting experience...
The drill instructor came out of the building ordered us back in, faster, faster, faster, FASTER.  We ran back in only to be ordered to get back out into formation.  
We ran out struggling to form up, and shout the appropriate response, failing nearly every time.  "Run ordered the drill instructor" "back ordered the drill instructor" "I SIR" we yelled.  Sadly the appropriate response was I Ma'am, we ran some more.  
Eventually after failing repeatedly to satisfy our drill instructor, we were sent to the sand pit where we struggled to do jumping Jacks and push ups until we satisfied the demands to respond quickly and loudly "OPEN YOUR FACES SHE YELLED."  My arms ached my head spun.

To be continued 

The next briefing moved to an auditorium classroom where we engaged in what would become a familiar routine, standing and sitting over and over until we got it right.  For a group of college graduates we proved to be very slow learners.  
While the drill instructor eventually allowed us to sit down, I don't think she was ever really satisfied with this group of recruits.  Generally we failed spectacularly to execute commands correctly.  Often I had no idea what I was supposed to yell and simply yelled loudly  in an effort to make sure I was not the cause of more running or "education" a reference to the pit.  
We then listened to a briefing about the Marines and the benefits of joining.  Honestly it sounded great, I wanted to enlist.  A band of brothers.  
The sitting lulled in us a false sense of security, the commander left and the yelling resumed, new drill instructor.  I said "I Ma'am" loudly and proudly, I had finally gotten it right... It was a sir...  More running.

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