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
Faith Uhlenkott Carroll College Admissions Application Essay I remember being in junior high and being a shy, awkward-aged young teenager. I remember how I would perform in my studies versus how I do now. I remember not even knowing how to throw a softball or what the difference between a republican and a
new Drill Sergeants showed up and the real fun began. We were all thrown into a formation
The Death of a Child On June 16th, 1944, the state of South Carolina executed George Stinney, Jr. He was fourteen years, six months, and five days old—the youngest person ever executed in the United States in the 20th Century. Stinney, who was black,
All the way in Fort Benning Georgia the Even though the drill sergeant told us to keep our heads down, I couldn’t help but peek my head up just to see what is out the window. All I saw was the beautiful blue sky with no clouds in site, and the sun just smiling down on us. The bus stopped at the destination, and I felt my heart stopped as if it was the last time I ever get to see the world. Out of nowhere the same drill sergeant with the mega phone was outside of my bus and started yelling at us with all his might. We could sense fear and terror in the atmosphere as the drill sergeant started pull us out of the bus one by one. The closer I got to the drill sergeant the clearer I got to see every vein and artery throbbing out of his neck and for every word he said you can see them pumping a heartbeat. Once I was able to get my focus from all the scatterings another drill sergeant was yelling at me to run up this hill that look as if it was Mount Rushmore but covered in grass and surrounded by privates but in a far distance look like ants. So I ran to the top acting like it was the end of my life and that I running away from the bulls like how the Spaniards do when they have their annual running with the bulls. Running to the top of the hill was harder than excepted. After finally reaching the top I stopped to catch my breath for my lungs felt as if they’re balloons and someone squeezed all the air out of
I awoke the following morning to shouts of “LIGHTS, LIGHTS, LIGHTS!” which meant get the hell out of bed as fast as you can and stand on line. As we stood waiting for our instructions from our drill instructors, we could all sense each others fear. For the next 13 weeks we would be told what to do how to think and when to breath. Not only was it physical but also psychological, we would be torn down and built in to the perfect Marine. After we were yelled at to get dressed in our camies, we marched down to the chow hall. I had maybe 2 minutes to scarf down my
Introduction It was the 7th of April 2005. I was a part of 1st Platoon, G Troop 82nd Cavalry, Task Force 1-163 IN, and FOB Gaines Mills is where we called home. I was a Specialist in a Light Cavalry unit assigned to Alpha Section of 1st Platoon. My duty position strongly depended on the mission and how our Platoon Leadership wanted to task organize. Since we had quite a bit of diverse talents from the E-4 and below, and we were all capable of Driving, Gunning, or being a Dismount, I had to always be ready to move into one of those positions at any time.
On the early morning of April 19th, my husband left to gather with the militia. I being worried could not go back to sleep and awaited by the window from time to time. The children were still asleep and out of the corner of my eyes, I see at least a couple hundred of lobsterbacks. I was frightened and crouched making sure I wasn’t seen. Oh how my heart beated, and I am ashamed to remind myself that the militia fired. Perhaps out of fear, but they fired. Immediately there was movement until my eyes could see, running, shooting, bloodshed. As soon as I saw the Regulars marching, and the house being so near to all the commotion I ran to the children and hoped they wouldn’t burn the house down. I was prepared, nervous for the life of my husband
I had arrived for a two-week stay at the transit barracks of Camp Pendleton in California. We would stay here temporarily until we flew to our overseas base destination. They had told us that we were not allowed to leave the base prior to our flight. They probably believed that
I felt the right side of my face burning and found blisters. The right sleeve of my shirt was torn. I began to smell an odor that I had smelled as a young man in Florida many times during lightning storms. I knew what had happened. We had been struck by lightning. I remember just looking up at the sky and saying, “God, not you too!” As we got our senses together and checked each other out, we began to realize we had got off easy. We had burns, blisters, torn clothes, and we were numb in certain parts of our bodies. The radio would not work. It took us about two and a half hours to get back to our command post.
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
No one is more professional than I. I am a noncommissioned officer, a leader of Soldiers. As a noncommissioned officer, I realize that I am a member of a time honored corps, which is known as “The Backbone of the Army”. For over 200 years the Army has served the people of the United States with citizens who have volunteered to serve. Throughout the years one thing has remained the same, the Army has grown, changed and adapted to meet the needs as an ever-changing world.
It’s the day I have to move to the army's campsite. I grab my bag and swing them on my shoulder, it weighs a ton it feels like my shoulder’s gonna break. Sophie was peeking through my room door, as I was about to stand up she ran to the living room curled up into a ball making loud thud and sobbing noises. Outside of the house, I hug my mom as tight as I could, I don’t want to move any single inch of my bone. I want to stay like this forever. I felt a drop of water behind my shoulder and I know that it was her tears. I don’t want to leave them but I have to. It was time to let go but she didn’t want to, I grab her arm and slightly push them back.
The seriousness of the situation that I had volunteered for happened a few days later going down the boundless road to my new home Korean Village. Forever and a day it seemed liked we were driving then we hit an IED (Improvised Explosive Device). Everyone’s initial reactions were that they couldn’t believe that this could be happening. Even though we knew where we were and the endless possibilities of what could happen, everyone was stunned even for slight second until our training kicked in. Reluctantly we had no casualties and minimal injuries.
On March 9, 2009 I joined the military I assumed it would have many changes for me. It had many changes but not all were what I was expecting. Some things changed I was expecting and then there was things I thought would happen never did and things I never could have dreamed of happening also happened.