Path: bloom-picayune.mit.edu!enterpoop.mit.edu!snorkelwacker.mit.edu!americast.com!americast.com!americast-post Newsgroups: americast.twt.metro From: americast-post@AmeriCast.Com Organization: American Cybercasting Approved: americast-post@AmeriCast.com Subject: Old Marine gets boot out of return to Parris Island Date: Thu, 26 Nov 92 15:00:28 EST Message-ID: Lines: 82 \SE B;METROPOLITAN;O'LEARY'S WASHINGTON \HD Old Marine gets boot out of return to Parris Island \BY Jeremiah O'Leary \CR THE WASHINGTON TIMES It is just 50 years ago that I quit my job at the Evening Star, enlisted in the Marines and boarded a coal-burning train bound for Yemassee Junction, S.C. Thirteen weeks later my platoon graduated, and a month later I was on my way overseas. Last week I spent four days at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island, S.C., to see how the making of a Marine has changed in 50 years. For one thing, physical abuse and verbal attacks on recruits by the DIs (Drill Instructors) also called "hats" because of the Smokey Bear campaign headgear they wear, are verboten. A DI can correct a recruit's posture, but no rough stuff is tolerated. In 1942 we drilled and did sand marches no matter how the heat and humidity soared. Now there is a strict system of less physical activity as the heat and humdity rises and various colored flags go up all over the base to warn DIs to slow it down. In my day we ran till we dropped and lay where we fell until a medical corpsman showed up to administer first aid. Back in 1942, the DIs began harassing us from Day One. Now they leave the recruits alone until they have completed all their paperwork and tests. There are no more motivational platoons for the fat, lame and lazy. Devil's Island was no more brutal than the tortures devised by the motivational platoons. Yet of each 60-man platoon that starts out together, it's as likely that 55 will survive to graduation day - about 11 weeks now. The average age of the recruit is about 19 today, and he is likely to be a high school graduate or a student with a high SAT score. The Marine Corps wants no morons. One benefit unknown to those of us who won World War II is that every man and woman is issued dress blues. This was unheard of in 1942, except for Marines scheduled for sea duty. When I went through Parris Island, everything we had was left over from World War I - 1903 Springfield rifles, .45-caliber pistols, flat British-style helmets and canvas packs. Our salary was $21 a month; a Marine private today is paid $726.60, and a little extra if he fires expert on the rifle. Except for my three weeks on the rifle range and a week of mess duty, I lived in a canvas tent with five other recruits. The brick barracks at the range were not air-conditioned, but today they are. I ate several mess hall meals with the troops, and I'm happy to say the Corps still serves SOS - creamed hamburger on toast. They also serve steaks, chops and other delicacies, but the old rule applies: Take all you want, but eat all you take or there will be trouble with the mess sergeant. The 1942 Marine wore khaki shirts and trousers and reverse calfskin boots, called boondockers. Today's recruit wears camouflage battle dress. He is equipped with weapons the 1942 Marine never dreamed would exist. But the principles of Parris Island have not changed. The DI is the Law, he is God and his word is absolute. He is not powerless to do a little humiliating. It is not unknown for a miscreant to be sent to scrub a toilet with his toothbrush or for a whole platoon to crawl the length of a company street picking up every cigarette butt. One punishment that has not died out is the nightly feeding of the sandfleas. A miscreant platoon will be marched to the dunes and ordered to stand at attention while myriads of sandfleas crawl in and out of your nose, mouth and eyes. "You had your chow!" the DIs have been saying since I was a 22-year-old recruit. "You had your chow. Let them sandfleas have theirs!" And the DIs watch vigilantly to see that there is no blinking or puffing to get rid of the pests. It is different at Parris Island now; perhaps a bit more gentle than in 1942. But the product they turn out there is a proud, professional fighting man. And that's what it's all about. This article is copyright 1992 The Washington Times. Redistribution to other sites is not permitted except by arrangement with American Cybercasting Corporation. For more information, send-email to usa@AmeriCast.COM