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.
