My Beginnings in the Marines

The day is getting off to a slow start. I hope it stays that way. I like busy days, but Sunday is not a good day to be busy. My job consists of trying to find people to work at a moment's notice. This is not a good thing to try and do on a Sunday. I hate to call around to people who are at home on a Sunday to ask if they want to go work on a fire. It's much better to do all that on the weekdays, when I can call people at work.

Since things are slow, I think this would be a good chance to write a little about my time in the Marines. I guess the story starts in Oregon, the fall after I graduated high school. I started college at the local community college in Salem, and had a miserable semester. About the only class I did well in was the writing class I took. It hadn't occurred to me that in my other classes I would have to put out an effort to pass. In high school, effort was never required. I got abysmal grades that first semester. In addition I had foolishly fallen for a girl who had other things in mind. I was too short and had the wrong eye and hair color for her, so my friendship with her was impossible to maintain. Simply put, I was frustrated in my situation and was looking for a way out. The out I was looking for came in the form of a phone call from a recruiter.

I had decided before that the only branch of service I would join was the Marine Corps. My grandfather had been a Marine, and the more I learned about them the more I respected them. The recruiter that called me was a Marine recruiter, and he told me of this thing called the "reserves." I hadn't realized before that the Marines had reserves, and was now very interested. Next thing I knew I was in the recruiter's office, and was learning all about the Marines. It wasn't long before I forgot about the reserve thing, and was looking at the options of active duty. The idea attracted me. It was a chance to get away and to move out of my mom's house. I think that there was one extra strong draw for me.

I'm from a single parent household. I have one older sister and one younger. I was raised by my mom, with limited male interaction. I had a stepfather for a couple of years when I was around ten, but other than that the men in my life had all been friends and neighbors. I can't complain about the quality of my young life, my mother could not have been any more loving and supportive. However, when I reached my adult life, I felt that something was missing. I didn't know how to be a man, I was deathly afraid of someday having children. How could I be a father? As I sat in the recruiter's office, I realized that I had a chance to learn about being a man. I had a chance to see what it's like to have brothers, to have male role-models. This alone would have been enough to get me to sign up.

Now that I have described why I joined, I must address a sensitive issue. Do recruiters lie? Honestly, what I was told about the Marines was true. There is a brotherhood, we can accomplish anything because of the Marine standing to our left and right. There is a bond that ties us together and although we don't always get along, I know I can count on my fellow Marine to do everything in his power to protect me. I know this because I would do anything in my power to protect my fellow Marine. This being said, the details of my enlistment didn't match what I had been told in the recruiter's office.

I initially signed up as a combat engineer. After learning more about what it was a combat engineer did, I had a change of heart. I went back into the recruiter's office to change my MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) to the 0300 field...infantry. This did not make my recruiter happy. My ASVAB scores were high, much higher than average. After asking for my MOS change, the head of the recruiting station called me into his office and went to work on me. He told me that there were no available positions in the 0300 field for months. I would not be able to go to boot camp when I had planned to. He talked to me then about his MOS. He had been a radio operator. He showed me pictures of himself with the infantry platoon he served with. He explained to me how as a radio operator I could serve with an infantry platoon and still learn a marketable skill. What he told me made sense, and I respected him enough to value his opinion. I would go in as a radio operator.

As things progressed, I became concerned about where I would be stationed. I was aware that there was a policy in the Marines that required me to serve a year overseas. This didn't concern me, I was more concerned with the possibility of being stationed on the East Coast. The farthest east I had ever been was Ohio. My family was on the West Coast, I had no family on the East Coast, and didn't want to be that far away. My recruiters explained to me that since I didn't want to be stationed on the East Coast, it shouldn't be a problem for me to stay in the West. I was being recruited on the West Coast, boot camp was on the West Coast, radio operator school was on the West Coast, it didn't make any sense to send me to the East Coast for anything. In addition I was told that it was a common practice to give the best performing students in MOS school their choice of duty station.

The first time I sensed something amiss with what I was told by my recruiters was the day I signed the contract for my MOS. It's possible to get a "guaranteed" MOS in the Marines, so when you choose your MOS you sign a contract with that choice on it. The recruiter pointed out the code showing what MOS I had chosen on this contract, but my eyes caught another MOS code further down the contract. I asked my recruiter what it was, and he explained that a secondary MOS is assigned with every contract, and the Marine Corps makes the final decision of what MOS you will be assigned based on needs. He assured me that it was rare for an MOS to be changed, and as long as I let it be know what I wanted things would be fine.

Fast forward past bootcamp to Marine Combat Training. It is at this two week school that Marines are assigned their MOS. From this school we go directly to our MOS school. It was one of the first couple of days there when we lined up to hear our MOS read off. When my name was called I heard 1141. "What the hell is 1141?" I went over to the MOS list on one of the walls, and looked up 1141. I found 1141 listed as "Basic Electricain." This was not a happy moment. When working on cars in shop class the thing I hated the most was wiring. I have very strong feelings about electricity. I hate being shocked, I hate wires, I hate little electrical components that always have tiny screws that fall out and can never again be found. I knew right away I would hate being an electrician. I joined the Marines to fire weapons, to go for long walks in the woods, to sleep in the mud under the stars, these are not things electricians do!!!

My shock was doubled when I looked to see where the school for electricians was located. Courthouse Bay NC. WHERE?!?! What's NC stand for? North Carolina!!! Where is North Carolina?!?! The reality of the answer to this question hit hard. I'm not supposed to be leaving the West Coast. How am I being sent all the way to the East Coast? Not only the East Coast, but the SOUTH!!!! A confederate state!!! There must have been a mistake. I went to the SGT left in charge of us and found out who I needed to talk to about getting this corrected. After discussing the problem with this man (a discussion that lasted about five seconds). I found out that this was simply the way things were, and there was no way to change it.

I settled into this reality, and decided that I would be the best possible student I could be. I would go to North Carolina (hadn't been there before..could be fun), and I would finish school at the top of my class. I would request to be stationed on the West Coast, and they would send me there because I would have proved my worth.

I went to North Carolina. I was open-minded...I had a good time...and I did my very best in school. As class wound down, I was a fraction of a percentage point behind the number one student in the class. This was impressive since most of the class was made up of reservists who were sophomores and juniors in college. Here I was, the college drop out and I was beating their pants off. I was sure I was going to get my choice of duty stations. The moment of truth came, and the instructor started down the list of the students. Nobody in the class had chosen East Coast, and as she went through the list each student was getting their choice. It was a combination of Okinawa and California. The list was alphabetical, myself being a "T" I was second from last on the list. When she got to my name I heard: 8th ESB, main side. HUH? I needed a little clarification. What's 8th ESB, and where's main side?

The answer: 8th Engineer Support Battalion...Camp Lejeune NC. I was floored. This being a duty station within the US, it was a three year deal. The next three years I would be stuck in North Carolina. Why? Because my name fell second to last alphabetically. Both myself and the person after me got the same assignment. My performance in the class meant crap...my future would not be determined by my performance, simply by where I fell in alphabetical order. This realization would make the next couple of years very difficult. I will have to wait to explain that.

Now I will answer the question from earlier. Did my recruiter lie? I truly believe he told me exactly what he believed. He thought things were done differently than they were in reality. Had he known this I believe he would have prepared me better. My recruiter didn't try and sugar-coat the Marines. He never told me I wouldn't go to war. He told me that every Marine is a rifleman, that every Marine should be prepared to go to war. This was fine with me and that's why I joined, not because I was lied to. I am insanely proud of my service. My time in the Marine Corps did so much for me I can't even begin to describe it. It was not easy, but I got over my childish attachment to home, and I became who I am today. This is just the story of how I got here.

For those who say their recruiter didn't tell them they would have to go to war I say: Are you fucking stupid?!? What did you think the military did? I don't believe for a second your recruiter told you that roasting marshmallows by a campfire and telling scary stories was all that you would be doing. If the recruiter did tell you something that ridiculous you should have had enough sense to see through it. Don't cry because you were stupid enough to fall for it. If you were so opposed to war, what the hell were you doing in the recruiter's office. Did you not pay attention to what you were saying when you were sworn in. Nothing about marshmallows and scary stories in the oath. Quit making shit up just because your a spineless coward.

Brandon