Fort Jackson's Uniforms-Personal Narrative

April 6-7, 1862 Southwestern Tennessee. Once in the ranks of military life, I discover life turned out different than what I expected a soldier’s duty would be. I did not know the hardships that came with my signature. I saw the battlefield as a great challenge upon which I will either “secure my liberty” or “save the Union.” While I acknowledge that humans will die and losses will come around, I never envisioned the daily struggles to be in military camps, never thought in my wildest dreams, that twice as many soldiers would succumb to death from disease in military camps as from bullets, shells, and bayonets in battle.

It was Friday, December 19th, 2003, in Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, South Carolina. Just six short days before my 19th birthday. A recruit screams, "Lights! Lights! Lights!". The overhang lights flashes to life, I look outside and see that was still dark outside. All 80 of my fellow recruits jumped up and began the preparation for our big moment. Racks were stripped of sheets and blankets, folded, and then set on top of the footlockers. As we did the last bits of field day, I imagined that we were somewhere between well oiled machines and ants. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. As we got dressed in our pickle suits I was shaking. To this day I don 't if I was from the sheer excitement or from nervous. The process of getting dressed was beyond tedious and deliberate. Socks, corframs, white shirt, long sleeve khaki shirt, shirt-stays attached from the bottom of the shirt to the top of the socks, tie, standing on top of a foot locker to step into our trousers, getting the help of your rackmate to help put on your blouse, and lastly putting on your cover.

We would go and do all kinds of things together and those days account for some of my earliest memories. As her first grandchild, we developed a great relationship that we still have today. When the time finally came for me to go to school, it was tough for my Nana to not have me at home every day, but for my parents they couldn’t be more proud of their little boy. My first years of school were great. I was fortunate to have my mother as my kindergarten teacher, but when first grade came so did my first life changing experience. On August 23, 2005, Hurricane Katrina struck the Mississippi Gulf Coast. That day I woke up, the skies a haunting grey, as the storm moved inland reports of flooding, strong winds, and even tornados came over the television, as my family prepared for the storm’s impact. Sadly, Hattiesburg got the worst Katrina had to offer. The eye of the storm moved directly over us, and when the eye wall struck is when my entire family wondered if it would be our final day on this Earth. At this point, the power had gone out and we sat in an eerie darkness, only equal to that of a war zone. The only sound we could hear was whipping of the wind and pounding of the

“Everybody get off my bus!” the drill sergeant screamed. I woke up terrified for my life. I picked up me stuff and ran towards the front of the bus. I broke left following the rest of the crowd. When I make it to the end my hearts racing, I could feel my heart beat in places I never felt before. There were packs of uniform blobs confused not knowing where to go. I decided to get into a formation not

The Recruit Division Commanders (RDC) that were waiting for the bus storm through the open doors, and start screaming orders at the new recruits. Your grab what little stuff you were told bring, and hurry off the bus before the bulldogs eat you alive. Your are shuffled in to an atrium with about 80 other recruits all scared as you are, and still getting orders yelled at you, half of which you cannot understand so you get yelled at more. As you all fall in, the RDCs start telling you the rules and regulations as fast as they can, and expect you to remember all of them or again get yelled at. You then get shuffled in to gear issue where they separate you by gender. Once in the large room they make everyone one strip down to nothing so they can strip you of all your civilian clothes, and in essence of your civilian life. Once you have all of your issued gear they walk you into another room where you get your first chance to sit down, and semi relax. But there is no relaxing on the first

I could see men falling in all sorts of strange ways and I couldn’t help but think about what jack had said. Then all an artillery shell from big Bertha fell between me and jack. As the world around my swirled in a storm of fire and shrapnel I knew that I wouldn’t see jack alive again and as the mud fell from the sky I found his broken body. After paying my respects to him I decided it was no time to start grieving so I started my mad as hell sprinting back up and charged into the dogged enemy lines. I dodged around the shell holes, jumped over the fallen, jinked and jived to dodge the bullets that were flying towards me, throwing myself flat whenever I heard the whine of big berthas shells and cringing at the screams of the injured. When I was 100 meters away from the German lines I fired my rifle blindly at them, after I ran out of ammo I slammed a new magazine in and charged once again. I raced over the top of the trench and felt hot blood spay on me as my bayonet dug deep into a Germans chest. I pulled it out and started fighting them alongside the rest of my battalion. By the time we had defeated al the Germans I was covered head to toe in their blood I thought “at least the rains will wash it out.” While I steadied myself against the trench walls I started crying all the horror of this battle and losing jack had left me torn on the inside as the reality of all that had happened dawned upon me. I was so upset I didn’t even notice the pig of a sergeant come up to me, “Oi soldier” he said in his pommy accent “go down that dugout and look for some supplies” so I did as I was told. Halfway into the dugout I felt the earth shake and heard a horrific BOOOOOOOM and as everything went black I couldn’t help but think “will I be joining jack up there in

I stood on the porch just thinking about my mother, oh how I miss my mother. If I could just see her one more time I would have so much to tell her. All I have left was my sister and my father, I'm just thinking about how much love I need to show them; because no one knows how much time we have left her on the earth. At the time, looking back on my mother and all she did for me, I honestly believe that she was the only person in my life that gave me joy and happiness. During the war the only thing I could ever thing of, the only thing that keep me sane was my mother. While being sorrowful on the porch, the door opens and I see my sister standing there crying. She runs at me a leaps into my arms crying, she tells me “its been to long brother”. I tell her that crying will only make me cry. At that moment my father walks throw the door and gives both my sister and I the biggest most immense hug. After maybe ten minutes of hugging the the porch we head inside and I got to take a shower and get ice for my head trying to relieve the

In my lonely shack, I looked around for my rifle since I heard some noise outside. I found my old army uniform with a plaque with my name on it, Jake Featherstone. I put it on and continued to look around for my rifle, Beatrice. I didn't use Beatrice that much since the area is remote, but I sure as hell stockpiled ammo, just in cases like

     The day I moved away, a lot of things were going through my young mind. As I took my last look at my home, I remembered all the fun times I had with my family and friends through out my

Learning that everyone’s time is precious and we should live every moment alongside the people we love the most, because we’ll never be too sure when they’re going to leave us. Till this day it still doesn’t feel real, I keep telling myself that one day she’ll be back and everything will be ok. She was the heart and soul of our family where we all would gather at Thanksgiving time or just on a regular day. Her home was always full of joy and excitement but now it’s full of loneliness and darkness. She is gone now, to a new home, a home called

A prior enlisted man yelled out "Congratulations you 're getting shipped to relaxing Jackson!" In many of the months that I learned about joining the Army, Fort Jackson located in South Carolina was considered where most people go and the easiest basic combat training the Army had. I wasn 't worried as to where I was going to be sent. My height of 4 '9 anywhere the Army sent me was going to be difficult for me. My fears were small but the amusement of accomplishing this, motivated my small soon to be troubled soul. I thought to myself if I get through this I will be able to get through anything, but if I fail my whole family will disgrace me. The doctors there made us do uncomfortable stretches and exercise while only wearing garments of your bra and underwear, so that doctors knew every muscle worked the way it was supposed to. I passed all the requirements and swore in that day. Fast-forwarding to November, 3rd 2014 I got shipped to Fort Jackson, South Carolina. The environment seemed close to the biome in Georgia, large ranges of pine trees forest, and grassland. I was in environmental shock when I arrived there to my barrack, because I had 5 soldiers with green hats shaped like an old western days, scream "Hurry up let’s go!" "What the hell is taking you so long!?" All the while I was carry two green duffel bags filled with fifty pounds each of military uniforms. In that moment I felt as though I had super hero power strength. I couldn’t feel the weight of my bags, and

I reminder it like it was yesterday I was leaving home for the first time in my life to become a United States Marine! I did not know what I had really gotten myself into until it was too late and I was standing on the yellow foot prints for receiving recruits Aug 18th 2008 I thought in my mind that me and my best friend Ruben was going to go at the same time but it did not go that way he left three whole months before me. I did my basic training at Paris inland North Carolina I the first thing that I reminder is that night when we arrived it was very cold and we had no idea what was waiting for use on the other side when we got closer to the base they made us put our heads down it felt like I was going to prison for three months that would feel a lot longer the bus we were on was nice it but the bus driver would not even talk to us it was weird like they was informed not to talk to the recruits then all of a sudden the bus stopped they allowed us to lift up our head but we had no idea where we were at then we see these shaped dressed serious face lowered cover which is the hat that drill instructor wear with their uniform walk over to the bus in a fast pace the door open and he stepped onboard and his first words was "get off my bus you maggits and get outside the circus ride is over and it 's time to come home to your new house of pain get outside and stand on the yellow footprints outside for roll call to make sure that all our maggits are

It was September 20th of 2011 when I stepped aboard a bus heading to Recruit Training Command in Great Lakes, Illinois. It was rather dark in the bus as I sat there next to other young men looking just as nervous and scared as I was since none of us knew what our ordeal would be for the upcoming 2 months. I was thinking to myself “man what the hell am I even doing here?” and then without me even paying attention to where we were outside; the bus came to a halt. As soon as the bus stopped this man came aboard and said to all us “get the fuck out the bus right now!” and all of us got up as quickly as humanly possible and started exciting the bus double-time. As we were heading into the building at a rather spry pace, the man kept screaming and swearing at us making us even more nervous for none of us had a clue on what would really be happening in the upcoming months.

After sitting in my room for a while, I decided to take one last tour around my entire house, my innocent 9-year old self desperately trying to fight back tears. I was not ready. I was not ready to say goodbye, for it was in this house that my father had surprised my mother by painting the patio a brilliant red as an anniversary gift; it was in this house in which our little 3-person family had huddled around the wood fireplace for warmth when the power went out for three days; and it was in this house that we had celebrated countless birthdays and holidays, the fondest of memories resting in the nooks and crannies of this residence. Everything had a story. Everything spoke to me. Every scratch, dent, and marking had its own anecdote and the walls seemed to sound faint echos of the laughter and joy that had once enveloped them. But all of this was soon to disappear, and my father and I left the house, locked the front door for the very last time, and made a long walk down the driveway, trying not to look back.

“Ready to go hun?” said Dad “Yea...I guess,” I responded. I knew this day would come but I wish it hadn’t. At least I will have some friends who are already in the fields that can show me the ropes. My father and I walked on the only street here, the street that lead to the fields.When Dad and I arrived to our working posts we lined up single file. There were soldiers everywhere pointing guns and shoving people in line. As I looked around, I was revolted to see that every single man there had a broken spirit. While everyone was glancing