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.
