I am getting ready to leave TBS, and much has happened in the past week and a half. We are closing out our training here, finishing some boring administrative classes and attending a lot of "mandatory fun." It started last Tuesday when we all packed ourselves into white school buses for the four-hour trip to Gettysburg, PA, to study the battlefield and enjoy the hospitality of Corporal Seamus. CPL Seamus is an institution at TBS: a former marine who got out as a corporal and proceeded both to make millions of dollars and become the mayor of Gettysburg. Of all his accomplishments, he is most proud of being a Marine, and every company that comes to TBS goes to his house one night for "mandatory fun" involving 10 kegs of beer, a wall of marine memorabilia, and either 30 feet of hoagies (what we got) or steaks (a summer thing). The battlefield tour was interesting, but dampened by the thick Fog hovering about 3 feet off the ground; the night at CPL Seamus' around the three bonfires was very enjoyable. If only the whole Program of Instruction were like this.
Well, maybe not. I miss the field, and am sad that I won't be going back (at least, not for a while). It is dirty and hard out there, and often the weather is either too cold, too wet, or too hot for comfort. The equipment you take, designed to protect you or help you kill others, seems also made for your discomfort. And there is no rest: you are always digging a trench, or moving (again!) to a new location, or cleaning your rifle, or planning an attack, or actually attacking. But despite the stress and discomfort, you tend to discover the best in people. It doesn't happen very noticeably, because everyone is bad-tempered due to lack of sleep and other factors--all of which can bring out the worst aspects of personality, too. But a kind of unspoken recognition develops among us, of each person's individual contributions and efforts. I liked these people; I had grown alongside of them, seen their worst, and learned to rely on them in spite of it all.
Our Gettysburg trip spilled over to Wednesday, and we got out early that day. Thursday we had more ennervating classes (including a very informative one about how young marines should leave their affairs in order before they deploy - wills, powers of attorney, setting up a bill pay system, etc.), and then had the afternoon off to prepare for Mess Night. To the uninitiated, Mess Night may seem like a funny tradition. It is a formal military event where we honor our warrior spirit and those who came before us by dining together, making speeches in their honor, and then making fun of each other. It is supposed to be convivial (despite the formal setting) and always accompanied by heavy drinking and the smoking of cigars. On of my platoon-mates entertained everyone by recounting a regrettable statement I made to the company during a safety brief. Usually one is "punished" for their amusing transgressions by paying a fine, but I managed to get out of it by a timely application of wit. No, seriously. I even turned the matter of a fine back on my accusor--which entertained the mess even more, though I think it fair to say that the humor of the situation was heighted due to the beer we had drunk. It was a good time, although it rapidly deteriorated at 0600 the morning after when we woke for PT. There is nothing so miserable than trying to exercise with a hangover. But sanctioned hazing is the Marine Corps way.
The following weekend was exciting and nostalgic at the same time. Friday night I went DC and saw a movie and a bar with an old ND friend. We didn't know each other very well at school (he was the room-mate of a ROTC buddy of mine), but now are becoming close friends. Saturday night I attended a Christmas party at the apartment of a different Notre Dame friend, and spend the night in the District. Sunday, I woke up and visited with my cousin, then spent the afternoon in Georgetown back with my ND friends. We ended up going out to dinner there before I drove back to Quantico. This weekend was meant to be a farewell to this part of the world, but it was tinged with new friendships (and stronger old ones).
And now I am nearly ready to leave. I write this in what has become suddenly a very Spartan (or rather, very much MORE Spartan) environment. My poor little fuel-efficient Honda is packed full and riding slightly low on the back axle, and my desk is bare except for this computer, an as-yet-unsmoked celebratory cigar, and a cup of water. I have one blanket, one pillow, one set of cammies, the clothes I am wearing, and one last piece of luggage (which will house this computer and my toiletries when I finish needing them tomorrow morning). My room-mate is playing angst-ridden hard alternative rock out of his computer at a low volume, and the air smells of dust and order-in pizza. It is finally my last night at TBS.
We graduated today in a very military and mostly forgettable ceremony. Our guest of honor, a two-star general, delivered mildly amusing, somewhat poignant, and advice-filled remarks, we walked across the stage one by one, and we were done. The efficiency of the ceremony is probably indicative of TBS as a whole - when something needs to be done, we are trained simply to do it immediately and as best as we can. I do not want to give the impression that the ceremony was unnecessary - it meant a lot to the family members who were there. But I think all my comrades shared my impatience: we are ready to move on to our real jobs in the Marine Corps, and tend to regard such recognition as irrelevant.
Though I am not very sad to leave this place - because I never enjoyed it very much and because I am looking forward to Pensacola, where I will be rejoining college room-mates and living on the beach - I nevertheless have happy memories of my time here, mostly of struggling beside my peers, accomplishing things I didn't know I could, and simply spending time outside. Though I have much to look forward to, I sense I will miss this place later on. But for now my thoughts are occupied with the 12-hour drive ahead of me. I am ready to leave.
It feels like it's been a long journey. Though only seven months have passed since my graduation, college seems a far in the past. TBS has been busy; I feel like I've learned a lot. In a way, I think I'm fortunate that the dates worked out the way they did: it feels natural to turn towards Christmas at the end of this training. The holidays were out-of-place at TBS; the lone Christmas tree in our HQ building looks pathetic and artificial. Christmas time, when I finally enter it in the Seattle Airport, will be most welcome. Then I can finally (and pleasantly!) think on my gifts to give, my favorite old traditional Christmas carols, and the holiday spirit.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Sunday, December 5, 2004
The Home Stretch
So we finished out final FEX the week before last, and lost that weekend to an Urban Patrolling exercise. That is extremely frustrating, because our weekends are very important to us (I will shortly go into more detail about that). The exercise took place on the FBI range (which is on Quantico Marine Base), so it had to be done on the weekend, and it was actually really fun. There were role-players and surprise attacks, and we had several missions to accomplish. It is sobering to realize how fertile the urban environment is for ambushes: every squad on the course suffered casualties. The key to success is communication and initiative. During one scenario nearly one-third of my squad was killed because they didn't move when they were supposed to and got hit by a grenade. I just can't understand how the stereotype of the "dumb infantryman" developed, since all types of fighting comes down to fundamental discipline and intelligence.
We kicked the following week (last week) into high gear with a 15 mile hike. It is far more difficult to cover that distance on your feet than it is in the car, which may sound obvious but is well worth saying anyway. Especially when carrying about 80 pounds. It really is a culminating exercise to the program of instruction here, a test of mental and physical discipline. And for that reason, it was worth it. Nobody in my company fell out of the hike, which is good, especially because its completion is a TBS graduation requirement. It left me rather broken, with sore feet and aching shins and grinding knees, but most of those symptoms have disappeared.
Following the hike I went on Thanksgiving leave. I had a mild adventure finding my way to DC for my flight out Thursday morning, especially as the airport parking lots were full and the taxi dispatchers were booked through 6 PM Thursday night, but it worked out. A good friend allowed me to drive up to his place at 4 AM on Thanksgiving (which took a while because the inner loop of the beltway was closed due to an accident), cooked me breakfast, and got me to the airport in time to catch my 7:30 flight. It certainly gave me one more thing to be thankful for.
Speaking of which, I am certainly thankful that TBS is almost over. Last Thursday, we finished our last written test, proceeded through weapon turn-in and gear turn-in, and took our final Physical Fitness Test (PFT). The completion of these events marks the end of the graded portion of TBS, leaving only final classes, out-processing and celebrations to come (such as our Mess Night, during which Marines traditionally feast, become inebriated, and lampoon each other with stories of foolery drawn from recent memory). But because we are in Delta Company, there will probably be more hardship before I get out. We have distinguished ourselves from other training companies by adopting a much more rigorous schedule (we have squeezed more field time, PT, and general events into our six-month allotment of time than Charlie company did before us, or than Echo and Foxtrot are doing right now). The reason for this is our commanding officer, who is as hardcore an Infantry Marine as any I have ever met. We say that it can always get worse for Delta Company.
Currently, however, the "worse" has taken the form of excruciatingly boring classes and "mandatory fun" in the form of career nights, where Marines from different occupational specialties come to answer our questions about the field we'll be going to when we leave. That's the excuse at least - what really happens is that Marine Officers far superior to us in rank get wildly drunk, reminisce, and then need our assistance into cabs at the end of the night. The week was capped off by hours and hours of weapons-cleaning time, as we readied our issued rifles for the next class. After that, we finally had a weekend...but even then it wasn't all our own.
As I mentioned earlier, weekends are among the most important aspects of life at TBS, since we get a precious free time and a chance to rest our bodies from things like FEXs and 15-mile hikes. Though this weekend started early, we had to spend the first part of it in "mandatory fun" with our platoons. Friday night my platoon had a little social gathering at an adult arcade (and by adult I mean "for adults, not children") called Dave & Busters. It is the kind of place with no windows, a nice-ish restaurant and bar, and loads of bar games like pool and shuffleboard mixed in with some pretty exciting arcade video games. It was a little strange nice to see the entire Platoon in civilian clothes - it added hitherto unknown elements of their personality to my perceptions of them. One guy was dressed kind of fruity, so we teased him pretty hard. But it was nice. I ended up staying a couple of hours after lunch playing shuffleboard and exhausting myself with a very realistic boxing game from which I am still sore (and before you laugh at me for being sore from a video game, let me explain to you carefully that in order to participate, you actually had to shadow-box with giant heavy computer-mitts that registered your character on the screen).
Now I particularly cherish weekends because I can get away from TBS and the TBS mentality. "Mandatory fun" is very much a product of the TBS mentality, so though I usually have no problem hanging out with my comrades, this time I couldn't wait to leave, and as soon as I could continued into DC to meet an old college friend of mine. We met up with two girl friends of his at a bar next to the Catholic University of America and launched without apparent effort into a deeply theological conversation about Catholic morality. I really enjoy talking about that kind of thing; in fact my major in college spent a good deal of time on those kinds of issues. It was the kind of conversation that is totally self-sustaining, comfortable, and interesting. It made for a very pleasant night. The next morning my friend and I toured the National Shrine and went to mass there.
The National Shrine is a beautiful and striking place. It is built and decorated in the Byzantine style, with a great upper church and many smaller chapels (each unique), and a complete lower church in the crypt. It also provides constant confession and mass. Unlike many similar churches/cathedrals/basilicas I have seen in Europe and elsewhere, the inscriptions in the stained-glass windows or carved into the facades are in English. That feature made the biggest impression on me: somehow this church seemed uniquely American, in addition to being Catholic. Since the Catholic religion has been centered in western Europe for so long, and is often associated with European countries (like France, Spain, and Italy), I almost feel that I step momentarily out of the United States when I go to church; the concerns of my day-to-day American life seem distant from my religious concerns. I don't mean that I stop being Catholic in general society or anything, it's simply a matter of perception. Even at Notre Dame, arguably the preeminent and most unabashedly Catholic institution in this country, the religious atmosphere on campus sort of excludes accepted social norms. But something about the composition and character of the Shrine, particularly those English inscriptions, seemed particularly American. The effect is validation: a sense that my religion and my American citizenship are intrinsically reconcilable. I doubt such a consideration would ever normally occur to me, though there is no doubt that the Catholic church calls all of its members to be good citizens and to support their country ("repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God," Matthew 22:21). Like I said, it's just a matter of perception. Nevertheless, it is easy to divorce religion from everyday life; especially so in the United States where the official division of church and state is so clear. The Shrine itself made Catholicism more immediate to me as an American.
That night I met up with more Notre Dame friends in an Irish pub in Arlington - including the one who so generously helped me home this recent Thanksgiving. The night was infused with nostalgia--the approaching end of TBS meant I had only a few more weekends with them. It was satisfying beyond measure to be there: drinking together, our thoughts and shared memories drifting between us like our cigarette smoke. As I made the drive back to TBS the next morning, I reflected on how nicely things were wrapping up for this part of my life. I am proud of my training and accomplishments at TBS, and I feel lucky to have found such a great town and such good friends as I have in Washington, DC. In many ways, I've done much better than I thought.
We kicked the following week (last week) into high gear with a 15 mile hike. It is far more difficult to cover that distance on your feet than it is in the car, which may sound obvious but is well worth saying anyway. Especially when carrying about 80 pounds. It really is a culminating exercise to the program of instruction here, a test of mental and physical discipline. And for that reason, it was worth it. Nobody in my company fell out of the hike, which is good, especially because its completion is a TBS graduation requirement. It left me rather broken, with sore feet and aching shins and grinding knees, but most of those symptoms have disappeared.
Following the hike I went on Thanksgiving leave. I had a mild adventure finding my way to DC for my flight out Thursday morning, especially as the airport parking lots were full and the taxi dispatchers were booked through 6 PM Thursday night, but it worked out. A good friend allowed me to drive up to his place at 4 AM on Thanksgiving (which took a while because the inner loop of the beltway was closed due to an accident), cooked me breakfast, and got me to the airport in time to catch my 7:30 flight. It certainly gave me one more thing to be thankful for.
Speaking of which, I am certainly thankful that TBS is almost over. Last Thursday, we finished our last written test, proceeded through weapon turn-in and gear turn-in, and took our final Physical Fitness Test (PFT). The completion of these events marks the end of the graded portion of TBS, leaving only final classes, out-processing and celebrations to come (such as our Mess Night, during which Marines traditionally feast, become inebriated, and lampoon each other with stories of foolery drawn from recent memory). But because we are in Delta Company, there will probably be more hardship before I get out. We have distinguished ourselves from other training companies by adopting a much more rigorous schedule (we have squeezed more field time, PT, and general events into our six-month allotment of time than Charlie company did before us, or than Echo and Foxtrot are doing right now). The reason for this is our commanding officer, who is as hardcore an Infantry Marine as any I have ever met. We say that it can always get worse for Delta Company.
Currently, however, the "worse" has taken the form of excruciatingly boring classes and "mandatory fun" in the form of career nights, where Marines from different occupational specialties come to answer our questions about the field we'll be going to when we leave. That's the excuse at least - what really happens is that Marine Officers far superior to us in rank get wildly drunk, reminisce, and then need our assistance into cabs at the end of the night. The week was capped off by hours and hours of weapons-cleaning time, as we readied our issued rifles for the next class. After that, we finally had a weekend...but even then it wasn't all our own.
As I mentioned earlier, weekends are among the most important aspects of life at TBS, since we get a precious free time and a chance to rest our bodies from things like FEXs and 15-mile hikes. Though this weekend started early, we had to spend the first part of it in "mandatory fun" with our platoons. Friday night my platoon had a little social gathering at an adult arcade (and by adult I mean "for adults, not children") called Dave & Busters. It is the kind of place with no windows, a nice-ish restaurant and bar, and loads of bar games like pool and shuffleboard mixed in with some pretty exciting arcade video games. It was a little strange nice to see the entire Platoon in civilian clothes - it added hitherto unknown elements of their personality to my perceptions of them. One guy was dressed kind of fruity, so we teased him pretty hard. But it was nice. I ended up staying a couple of hours after lunch playing shuffleboard and exhausting myself with a very realistic boxing game from which I am still sore (and before you laugh at me for being sore from a video game, let me explain to you carefully that in order to participate, you actually had to shadow-box with giant heavy computer-mitts that registered your character on the screen).
Now I particularly cherish weekends because I can get away from TBS and the TBS mentality. "Mandatory fun" is very much a product of the TBS mentality, so though I usually have no problem hanging out with my comrades, this time I couldn't wait to leave, and as soon as I could continued into DC to meet an old college friend of mine. We met up with two girl friends of his at a bar next to the Catholic University of America and launched without apparent effort into a deeply theological conversation about Catholic morality. I really enjoy talking about that kind of thing; in fact my major in college spent a good deal of time on those kinds of issues. It was the kind of conversation that is totally self-sustaining, comfortable, and interesting. It made for a very pleasant night. The next morning my friend and I toured the National Shrine and went to mass there.
The National Shrine is a beautiful and striking place. It is built and decorated in the Byzantine style, with a great upper church and many smaller chapels (each unique), and a complete lower church in the crypt. It also provides constant confession and mass. Unlike many similar churches/cathedrals/basilicas I have seen in Europe and elsewhere, the inscriptions in the stained-glass windows or carved into the facades are in English. That feature made the biggest impression on me: somehow this church seemed uniquely American, in addition to being Catholic. Since the Catholic religion has been centered in western Europe for so long, and is often associated with European countries (like France, Spain, and Italy), I almost feel that I step momentarily out of the United States when I go to church; the concerns of my day-to-day American life seem distant from my religious concerns. I don't mean that I stop being Catholic in general society or anything, it's simply a matter of perception. Even at Notre Dame, arguably the preeminent and most unabashedly Catholic institution in this country, the religious atmosphere on campus sort of excludes accepted social norms. But something about the composition and character of the Shrine, particularly those English inscriptions, seemed particularly American. The effect is validation: a sense that my religion and my American citizenship are intrinsically reconcilable. I doubt such a consideration would ever normally occur to me, though there is no doubt that the Catholic church calls all of its members to be good citizens and to support their country ("repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God," Matthew 22:21). Like I said, it's just a matter of perception. Nevertheless, it is easy to divorce religion from everyday life; especially so in the United States where the official division of church and state is so clear. The Shrine itself made Catholicism more immediate to me as an American.
That night I met up with more Notre Dame friends in an Irish pub in Arlington - including the one who so generously helped me home this recent Thanksgiving. The night was infused with nostalgia--the approaching end of TBS meant I had only a few more weekends with them. It was satisfying beyond measure to be there: drinking together, our thoughts and shared memories drifting between us like our cigarette smoke. As I made the drive back to TBS the next morning, I reflected on how nicely things were wrapping up for this part of my life. I am proud of my training and accomplishments at TBS, and I feel lucky to have found such a great town and such good friends as I have in Washington, DC. In many ways, I've done much better than I thought.
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