November 20, 1964
Three days ago, when we got to Parris Island, the first thing they did was teach us how to stand in formation. There's probably about 50 men here! At least Sam is with me. He even is the person I share a bunker with!
Other than Sam, there's Connor Nelson, a shy fella from Brooklyn. He made friends with Sam and me pretty quickly. The only other man we met was Lawrence Griffiths. He seemed like a friendly giant. A shy and intelligent young man. He was probably drafted for war. I can't imagine a man like him volunteering to kill. The other men just leave to their own devices. Eventually, we all had a big meal later in the evening. After that, something happened I wasn't expecting!
They had a man come and shave everyone's heads. Any hair we had left was tightly close to the scalp. That meant that I put in the effort to remove a majority of my hair only to have the last bit of it shaved off! Once that was done and over with, it was time for everyone to sleep. It was difficult at first, but after a while, I finally caved in and fell asleep. We spent about three days settling in.
This morning, we were all woken up around 4 AM. I've never gotten up that early in my life. We fixed our sheets and got dressed in 15 minutes. After that, they made all of us line up. Our instructor was this man they call 'Staff Sgt. Miller.' He gave us a huge speech on what to expect. The Sgt. also introduced another DI, Sgt. Taylor. Taylor would go around the room and yell at each private. He'd insult them, yell at them, and just crack down on them hard. He got to me last, thankfully. The first thing he did was call me short. That makes sense, considering that I am only five feet and three inches. He gave each of us a nickname, stripping away all identity we had. Compared me to a dog, a Labrador Retriever to be exact. He called me "Private Retriever."
After that, it was nothing but exercise. Running, jumping, obstacle courses, and more. Sgt. Miller and Sgt. Taylor would yell and command us the entire time. It was just draining. Throughout the entire day, Sam stayed by my side, making sure we both got through this together. Even if boot camp is a nightmare, at least I have a friend with me.
As the night comes to an end, we have only a couple of minutes before we were to supposed to be in our bunks. In these last few minutes, I write to you. I promise that I will keep you reported at the end of every week.
Sincerely, Mike
(Since that is what they call me)
December 11, 1964
It has been a only a few weeks of the sixteen, but I see cracks in these men. Sgt. Miller particularly strikes down hard on Lawrence. I mean, cannot blame him. Lawrence doesn't seem cut out for war to me. He's just...too soft.
Other than Lawrence, Sam seems to be a target. Unlike the former, he is more resilient to the abuse. Sam tells me that he's taken this sort of treatment back at home. "My parents didn't like me that much," was what he would say. I do everything I can to keep the spirits alive. The men which came here, slowly but surely, they lose parts of themselves. Connor is acting more withdrawn. He was shy to begin with, and this is just adding fuel to the fire.
As of me, they say that I have remained almost exactly the same. The only difference, to them, is that I am more determined. That may be true. I am not just determined to succeed with my physical self, but with my mind. I know the DIs' job is to break us from average people to hardened killing machines. I know that the other men and me do not need this push. I'll let this man break every bone in my body as long as long as he cannot break my mind. I refuse to become numb and dull. I keep this feeling alive in the others. When we get the chance, I boost the spirits of others. I make all conversations drift away from the military and back to our home lives. Am I helping the others? I do not know, but I am sure I am going to try.
Sincerely, Mike
December 18, 1964
This past week has been a disaster. Just a couple of days ago, Lawrence went and made the most idiotic mistake. Sgt. Taylor made all of us recite what is known as the 'Rifleman's Creed.' He also made us name our rifles after women. Unbeknownst to my colleagues, I named mine after myself; Virginia.
Well, that was unnecessary information. Back to what I was saying, he makes us put the rifle over our left shoulder to recite. However, Lawrence accidentally put it over his right shoulder instead. This made Sgt. Taylor completely blow up. He went off the wall screaming at him, going as far as decking him in the face so hard that Lawrence fell to the ground. We all just had to watch as one of our own took the abuse. I can't help but feel pity for the man.
Some of the fellow men are talking about him behind his back. Sam and I listened to a recruit complain about how Lawrence is making the rest of the platoon look bad. They've even brought up the idea of hazing him when he was asleep. I've talked to both Sam and Connor about what they think. Sam is in a similar boat, so of course he feels terrible about it. Connor, on the other hand, is trying to avoid Lawrence. He doesn't want to end up a victim of the Sgt.'s abuse as well. I can understand why, but I worry for Lawrence. What's going to happen to him as the week goes on?
So this morning, I decided to find Lawrence in the mess hall. When I actually talked to him again, something seemed...off. Unlike my first meeting with him, he didn't look me in the eye. His voice was lower and softer, and clear dark circles showed around his eyes. Clearly, boot camp has taken a toll on his health.
Before leaving, Lawrence gave me a comforting pat on the head. "You're a kid, starry eyed and innocent. Do not change," was what he said. That last part didn't sound endearing when he said it. It was more like a command. I didn't speak as I watched Lawrence leave to the other side of the room, alone.
I noticed that last night, it took hours for him to sleep. I forced my body awake just to watch him toss and turn. I was exhausted just watching that. I eventually grew tired and had to sleep. Even after I went to bed, the poor man had yet to even try sleeping.
The lack of sleep did show today. The area around his eyes were dark and his eyes themself lacked any focus. He already looks like he has seen the worst of war.
If only there was a way for me to help him.
Sincerely, Mike
December 26, 1964
Yesterday was Christmas. Now, despite that, we didn't get to celebrate at all. Other than having our time eating be slightly longer, there was nothing else. Lawrence seemed to get slightly better over the week. To everyone else, they do not notice a thing that I see. Though he is still numb, I have noticed improvement.
I still worry for Lawrence, however. I notice that he still struggles to sleep. The men are getting really tired of his performance. I hear them talking about "beating the brains out of him." They say that he would finally be a good soldier without his own cognitive thoughts. If they believe that, why don't I just beat the crap out of them?
It infuriates me when I think about those men. Sam and Connor are not like that. I would consider them some of the only men with humanity left. I hope we can keep it that way.
Hell, even yesterday, they almost went through with a hazing. One man almost put a pillow over Lawrence's face while he was asleep. They were even going to pour water on his face! It wasn't until I spoke up that the haze stopped. My yelling caused the instructor to wake up and tell us all to go back to our bunks. I am glad I stopped them.
As the third week comes to a close, I keep thinking about the future. Who knows if they will try to haze him again?
Sincerely, Mike
January 13, 1965
I am sorry I haven't written to you in a while. The new year brought more training. On top of that, we're all beginning to train in our specialities. Lawrence and I are riflemen (0311) , meaning that we're taught together. Sam is a 0331, while Connor is a 0621. Lawrence's behavior has gotten worse.
It all started the day they beat the living daylights out of him. It was a punishment from Sgt. Miller. For the first time, Lawrence had talked back to the instructor.
"Are you brain dead?!" I remember Sgt. Miller exclaiming, yelling in the face of poor Lawrence.
"No! As a matter of fact, I believe that you are!" The younger man declared. He put out his chest in pride, but soon sunk as he saw the look on Sgt. Miller's face.
He blew up in anger! He punched Lawrence in the face. The punch was so hard, I heard the crack in his jaw. It even left a bruise! Sgt. Miller screamed in Lawrence's face. He called the private "a waste of the world." I could even tell that Lawrence wanted to cry.
It didn't end there. The instructor turned to the other privates. I felt a lump form in my throat when I saw his face.
"Men, beat the life out of the private. Show him what happens when you refuse to listen," Sgt. Miller commanded, his voice low.
For most of the men, this came without a second thought. Responding with a simple, "Sir, yes sir!" it took them no time to jump to Lawrence's side. The Sgt. watched as they beat him down, leaving bruises everywhere. Whether it be his arm, his leg, his stomach, or even his face! I couldn't even move.
Sgt. Miller looked over at Lawrence. He was laying on the ground, marks covering his body and face. He was bleeding profusely from both his nose and his mouth. Then, the instructor turned to me.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Beat the crap out of him!" he exclaimed, turning even redder than before. Without anyone to help me, I spoke up.
I said that I was refusing to hurt him. That one sentence, however, sent me into a hellhole of punishment. He just screamed at me more and more. Bur before he could hit me as well, it seemed that an idea hit him. He turned to Lawrence, then back to me.
"You have one hour to run 10 miles. For every extra minute it takes, that's one minute of beating for Lawrence. NOW GET GOING!"
Just like that, I took off running. Of course, it was going to be exhausting. But I knew in my heart that it was all worth it. I had to do it. It wasn't just for me, or for my pals even. I knew that I had to do this for Lawrence. The running area was HUGE. It made up miles and miles of a road. Being in the middle of the forest meant that I was all alone.
At the 50 minute mark, I still had 2 miles to go. I was exhausted. I knew, in my heart, that I had to keep going. I bit my tongue and kept moving forward. My heart was pumping in my ears. It wasn't just the exhaustion from running. It was also the adrenaline of helping out an innocent man.
Finally, just one minute before the hour ended, I reached Sgt. Miller. I saw a slight grin form on his face as he saw me run in from the running area. Finally, I skidded to a stop. Lawrence was still on the ground, groaning in pain.
"There, ya happy?!" I exclaimed in pure frustration. Sgt. Miller slowly made his way over to me. I furrowed my brow as he loomed over me (I hate being short.) After what felt like forever, he spoke.
"You made be a bit impulsive and dumb, but you've got perseverance. Hell, I like you, Private Retriever." Then Sgt. Miller did something I didn't expect. He gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Take Pvt. Dirtface with you back to the barracks and get some rest," the instructor gestured over to Lawrence. With a loud, "Sir, yes sir," I offered assistance to help Lawrence up.
When we got back, everyone else had already showered and was getting ready for bed. Lawrence went straight to the showers. I went straight to the bunkers. (In case you wonder how I shower, I just learned to wait until everyone else is done.) I climbed onto the top bunk of the bunk I share with Sam. It took Lawrence another 20 minutes before he showed up. Everyone could see the bruises and marks they left on his body. The recruit refused to say a word. He just climbed into bed and fell asleep really quickly. Soon after, it was lights out, and we all were supposed to go to sleep.
Well, I just couldn't. My stomach twisted and turned. I didn't even partake in the beating! Why on earth did I feel terrible?
Sincerely, Mike
(P.S. My legs are still sore from running!)
January 27, 1965
Two days ago, Connor and me have been assigned with cleaning the bathrooms. I have no idea why. We haven't gotten in trouble or anything. So while everyone else cleans the floors of the bunker rooms, we are by ourselves. I took this time to speak to Connor.
"What happened while I was gone two weeks ago?" I looked over at him.
"We just...talked about what happened. I wanted to help Lawrence. But, ya know, with Sgt. Miller outside watching you too…" He clearly felt bad about what happened. "I didn't want to get in trouble. I hope Lawrence isn't extremely hurt."
"By the looks of it, it seems he's gotten better. Way better," I decided to point out. It's true though. Ever since the beating happened, Lawrence has...changed.
He barely speaks anymore. I've tried to talk to him during meal times. Despite that, he just leaves. I do not know what is going on.
"I think Lawrence might be a section eight," I blurted out. I do not know why I said it, but I did. Section eights are not mentally fit for the job. If he is that, then he might be kicked out. Despite this, Connor did not seem concerned at all.
"I think you just worry too much, Mike," the man shrugged. Maybe he's right. Well, not exactly. I have my reasons to be concerned. He told me to brush the incident off, and believe me, I've tried. I still am trying.
Well, none of that is important. Only about one more month to go, and then I am out of here. I'll write to you when I can.
Sincerely, Mike
February 13, 1965
I know nobody else knew this, but Sam told me that it's his birthday today. It must feel terrible spending a day like that away from your loved ones. When I told him that, he said that at least he has his buddies. I guess that was comforting.
Well, other than that, things haven't been going good. Connor is starting to get concerned over Lawrence as well. He's stopped talking. His face is blank and emotionless. The only time his eyes seem to dilate is when he's firing his rifle. I even spoke to Sgt. Taylor this morning.
"He's just beginning to shape up, Private Retriever. Now I think you should too!" I don't think he's ever said something like that about Lawrence. It doesn't feel right.
I do not know how I should feel about these changes. If you ask me, I think Lawrence is beginning to break down.
Sincerely, Mike
February 28, 1965
As training starts to come to a close, I can reflect on how I grew. Sam and Connor have become two of my closest friends. I see Sgt. Miller flash a small grin every time I do something right. Whether I am firing a gun, completing an obstacle, or just running fast enough. I think that the 15-mile run really impressed him!
I only have to make it 5 more days, and then we leave the island! Part of me is super excited. I will finally be out of here and doing what I came here to do; fighting. But at the same time, I feel a pit in my gut. What will happen if I die? What if I die in the fields of war? I'll just be another number in the casualties. One day, there might be a bullet with my name on it… No, that's not true.
I know myself well enough to know that I will be alright. This isn't just for me. I'm doing this for my family, for my country, for the men beside me, and for my friends.
As the day approaches, the pit in my gut gets tighter.
Sincerely, Mike
March 5, 1965
My life just went from good, to terrible, and to great all in a span of one night. Just... allow me to explain.
It was March 4, the day of our graduation. We woke up that morning as easy as can be. We knew today was not going to be everything we learned. The night beforehand, the sergeants told us that we were going to see our families.
It's tradition for families to see their son graduate at boot camp on graduation day. I knew that this meant; I was going to see my family for the first time in 13 weeks! So I woke up with morning, clearly excited.
That day was amazing. When it was time for the graduation, everyone was there! I saw hundreds of faces in the audience. I saw mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters. Finally, my eyes came to a stop as I saw my family. I saw my mom, my dad, Tom, even my Grandpa Eddie! I couldn't wait to talk to them.
That day, I was granted the rank of United States Marine! Finally, as the graduation came to a close, we were all allowed to see our families. Sam and I saw me sprint from across the open track straight into my parents' hugs.
"Mom! Dad! Tom! Grandpa Eddie!" I admit, I cried a little bit there. My parents were so excited to see me. But out of my family, Tom seemed the happiest of all.
"Mike! It's amazing to see you, little brother!" I saw him wink when he called me 'Mike' and 'brother.' As my family talked not just to other families, but to my fellow recruits, Grandpa Eddie pulled me to the side.
"Ginny," his voice was silent as to not raise any suspicion on my name. "I know I never told you about the military. I was going to, but now I know I don't need to. You are like me when I was young; wide eyed and innocent. Please, just don't end up like me," he gestured down to the wheelchair he was in. I told him that I will be okay. With a gentle smile, he pulled me into a hug.
As the day came to a close, the recruits watched all of the families drive off before Sgt. Miller spoke.
"Men, I am very proud of all of you. You have done amazing for the past sixteen weeks. Now, tomorrow morning, we are leaving. Now, go get some sleep. I will see you all in the morning." And just like that, we were all sent to the bunkers.
Everyone was talking about their families. Sam was telling me about how only his father came to see him. He said that, "My mother and I have a rough relationship…" I didn't know what to say about that. I also asked Lawrence about his family. He just responded, in a monotone voice, that they showered him with love that afternoon. Clearly, the way he spoke made everyone a little bit uncomfortable. Finally, we all washed up, and were ready to sleep.
Well, that's where the good part ends.
2:30 AM: I woke up in the middle of the night, wide awake. I have no idea why, but it just happened. I decided to sit up and look around me. Something caught my eye; Lawrence was missing from his bunker. That puzzled me. Where could he be? I don't know if it was my curiosity or my impulsivity, but I did what nobody should do in this situation.
I got out of bed.
In a desperate attempt to not wake up the other recruits, I forced myself to move as slowly as possible. Quietly, I moved around the rooms, looking for Lawrence. Bathroom? No. Mess hall? No. Bunkers? No. Showers? No. That only left one option; outside.
My heart pounded so hard, I believe it was the linen fabric that I used to bind that kept it from bursting from my chest. I cracked the door open ever so slightly, taking a peek outside. I saw Lawrence standing there, back facing me. So, I completely went outside, closing the door behind me.
"Lawrence," I called out. No answer.
"Lawrence? What is going on?" I approached him. "If Sgt. Miller catches us, we will be in hell!" As I placed my hand on his shoulder, Lawrence spoke.
"I am already in hell."
He turned around to look at me. As a reference, Lawrence is 6'5 while I am 5'3. Clearly we could tell who the bigger man was. His eyes were sunken in from sleep deprivation. His face was pale and gaunt. I looked down from his face to see the real problem; the gun. Lawrence had his gun in hand. Was it loaded? I didn't know, and I decided to ask.
"Lawrence, is that gun...loaded?" I gulped, taking a step back as he stepped forward. "Full magazine," was all he responded with. I stepped back again.
"Take it easy, Lawrence. You don't know what you're doing," I tried to reason with Lawrence. He didn't respond. Instead, he did the one thing I was hoping he would not do.
Lawrence aimed the gun straight at my face.
Now, I have made many mistakes in my life. Yet I never thought that those mistakes would lead up to this moment. Everything around us came to a stop as I stared down the barrel of that rifle. I wanted to scream, to run, to cry, to fight back! I wanted to live! I wanted to escape that moment! Yet I couldn't.
"Lawrence, I am your friend. We can make it through this together," I once again tried to reason with him. Slowly, I stuck my hand out. I just hoped that we would stop. If I die, then I am dying for my friend.
What felt like forever finally ended as Lawrence dropped the rifle. He lifted his hand as if he were to take mine. As I went in for a firm handshake, Lawrence gripped my hand tight. I fell straight into a hug from the larger man. I could tell he was crying as I felt my shoulder become wet with tears. I didn't speak. I just let this man cry into my shoulder. Finally, we both went silent. I picked up the gun.
"Come on, Lawrence. We have to go to bed," was all I said. He merely nodded as we snuck back inside. I watched Lawrence put the gun back in his footlocker before slipping into bed, falling asleep instantly. I soon followed.
This morning, everyone was silent as they woke up. The only sounds I heard were the sounds of men shuffling around. We all had to get dressed quick. The plane taking us was to arrive in 10 minutes. Clearly, that caused some slight panic. During the chaos, I was pulled to the side by Sgt. Miller.
"Sir, what do you need, sir?" I asked in my usual, monotone voice.
Sgt. Miller fought back a grin. He told me that he was not only proud of me, but of everyone else. He said that over these weeks, I proved my determination and fighting spirit. Finally, he told me to keep an eye on the platoon. He said that, "They're gonna need it." I simply smiled and said, "Thank you, sir." Before joining everyone else by the plane, bags in hand.
As I got on the plane, I waved goodbye to the drill instructor. As the bottom slowly closed up, I watched him mouth the motto of the Marine Corps to me;
"Semper Fi."
Sincerely, Mike
March 7, 1965
The plane landed in San Diego yesterday. We all stepped out right by the ocean. I remember watching Sam flash a grin of accomplishment to me.
"Well, Retriever. It looks like we did it. We survived boot camp," he offered me a high five. Yeah, it was a relief. We did survive (even though I was nearly shot in the face.) Well, that wasn't the end of the trip.
There were crafts in the beaches. Along with that, many marines from San Diego were among us. Two major ships were to take us; one for each battalion. I gripped onto this journal and my pen as I we waited on the beaches, ready to board. Once the ship was completely ready, we made our way on board.
The ship was huge. By huge, I mean huge! I'm talking like, hundreds of men could fit on there! Our entire battalion was able to fit on there and we STILL had enough room! I was the last man on board, taking one last look at America. Never would I have thought I would leave here so soon…
Well, that is in the past. The exits of the craft closed up, meaning that there was no going back.
If I could describe the trip overseas so far in one word, I would choose boredom. We have nothing to do but to eat and talk to each other. Hell, even talking gets tiring! I've stayed close to my three friends from Parris Island. Yet, things have been awkward since we left, mostly with Lawrence. It's probably because I nearly died at his hand. Luckily, it appears he has been on the road to recovery from his, well, accident.
I've tried getting closer to Connor during this time. I believe I could get closer to him if I tried. So, while Lawrence and Sam were chatting away, I decided to talk to Connor.
I remember asking him, "What made you join the marines?" He looked away when I said that.
"Better treatment than the treatment my family had back home in New York. Ya know, with equal treatment and such," Connor slid down in his seat. It made sense that he wanted to leave for a place to be treated equally. Many black folk are treated like trash around the states. There's a movement and politics and everything. I didn't say anything else. That is, until he asked me why I was here.
"Well, I volunteered in place of my brother. Mom and Dad didn't want to see him go," I sighed, thinking of Tom. "I miss him, Connor. I miss Mom, Dad, and Grandpa Eddie. I miss my aunt and uncle and all my friends. I don't know if I am ever gonna see them again."
"Don't say that, Retriever." Connor placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "You've got people who care about you; both in and out of the marines. Sam, Lawrence, and I? We got your back through this, and I know you've got ours."
I couldn't help but smile at that. Yeah, Connor's right. I care about my friends here. I know they care about me. It's not just my family I am fighting for anymore.
After a brief minute of silence, Sam called us over for a meal. Connor simply gave me a crooked grin as we both got up. Man, I think I am gonna enjoy it here.
Sincerely, Mike
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