07/16/2007

Sir, Yes, Sir!

The other day my Mom received her first batch of letters from my brother, Kyle. Literally, there was a batch. Kyle hails from the Great Lakes Naval Training Facility (aka Navy Boot camp). Mom spoke on the phone with Nick last night and relayed several of the more dramatic stories that Kyle had shared in his notes. Turns out that the reputation of the yelling, mean, and intimidating drill sergeants is quite accurate. Do you think drill sergeants are born with this bent toward constant irritation, or is it a big act that they put on for these new recruits? Do they enjoy shouting insults at their charges while standing only millimeters from their faces? I think it would grow tiresome, but apparently not.

In the Navy they refer to the little piece of space that the recruits call 'their own' as their 'rack.' I believe this might have some storage space for their stuff (they wouldn't need much of this space as they were stripped of all earthly possessions except for the smallest stubble of hair on top of their heads upon entry) and their bed. Any bed referred to as a 'rack' doesn't conjure up images of down pillows and memory foam mattresses, does it? You know what comes to my mind? Those beds of nails that were used years ago to torture people. Bed bugs seem like a small concern when faced with the tyranny of a metal bed studded with hundreds of little razor sharp nails. Anyway, I don't think the Navy racks are instruments of torture in and of themselves, but if they themselves aren't a cause of misery, they certainly aid in it. The requirements for the general condition of these 'racks' goes WAY beyond perfectionism. And that drill sergeant just won't let the issue go.

I don't know how it is at your house, but we're having a spic-n-span day if the beds around here get made. Not so in the Navy. Kyle and his group of peers spent a good part of one day making and remaking (etc. etc.) their racks. This went on for at least 100 repetitions. I'm not sure I could find enough things to criticize in order to draw this exercise on as long as the drill sergeant did: "McNeil, Is that the fluffiest you can make your pillow?" "McNeil, I told you to tuck in the flat sheet on every side." "McNeil, I HOPE that isn't a WRINKLE on your comforter!" "McNeil, I suggest you lick that drool stain off your pillow case, blow it dry using your MOUTH, and then reassemble your pillow ensuring the corners form perfect 90 degree angles!" Seriously...If it weren't so "not funny" it would be a bit hilarious. This morning I stepped out of my bed, noticed that the bottom sheet had pulled loose from one corner of the mattress, a couple pillows had fallen to the floor, the comforter was in a heap toward the foot of the bed, and some crumbs from a midnight snack were gathered together toward the mattresses center. I thought the drill sergeant might go into cardiac arrest if he took a peek at MY rack. He would probably avoid the trouble of teaching me to make it correctly and just dishonorably discharge me.

Another one of the drill sergeant's pet peeves is with the unending request for bathroom breaks. This seems understandable. I went to school long enough to know that there are always a few kids who escape to the bathroom to avoid math or to meet up with their best friend who agreed to leave Chemistry 101 at exactly 10:52AM. Curtailing unnecessary interruption seems reasonable, but in the Navy I think they've taken things a step too far. Instead of implementing the "only use the restroom if it's an emergency" policy, they decided to ban using the restroom altogether. Then, maybe to teach the recruits what a bathroom emergency feels like (in case they decide to use the more reasonable policy mentioned earlier), they required the troops to consume large quantities of water. When a naval officer orders you to take a swig of water, it is best not to respond by saying, "No thanks, I've already had my fill of water. You don't happen to have a hamburger, though, do ya?" They don't take kindly to that sort of thing. Instead, you just respond, "Yes, sir! I'm parched!" This exercise in bladder strength has caused more than one 'accident' over the years. And speaking of holding things...

During a recent Naval Academy swimming lesson, Kyle and company were required to float face-down in the pool and hold their breath for....you won't believe this...five minutes! I didn't know it was humanly possible, but Kyle did it. While somewhat cruel and unusual, this at least teaches a skill that could come in handy should one find themselves trapped in a sinking car or surrounded by tear gas. I've decided to use this technique (modified slightly, of course) here at the house. Whenever Nathan's behaviour is unacceptable, we will simply require him to hold his breath. I envision this would be a sort of modified time-out. Five minutes would be too much for him at the beginning, of course, but maybe we could have a policy like "one minute for every year of age up to age five." The point isn't to kill the kid...just to teach him two lessons at a time: One, we don't throw knives and two, you CAN and SHOULD practice holding your breath so your diaphragm is strong in case of emergency.

Well, if it wasn't obvious before, I think that the commentary on boot camp has confirmed that I am not Navy material. I do my countrymen a greater service by reporting on the human rights violations that occur in boot camp than living through the human rights violations of boot camp. It is on this note that I solemnly sign off. Until another day and another report, this lesson on boot camp will be considered over. Comrades in the anti-DS (drill sergeant) campaign, I salute you!