Basic Training Story
Go to triangular compass
Left arrow

Endurance in Training: Story 4582

No items found.
No items found.
No items found.
January 26, 2017
Share on Twitter
Share on Facebook
Share on Linkedin
Copy Link

Stay Up to Date on American Grit

Thank you! Your submission has been received!
Oops! Something went wrong while submitting the form.

This is not my story, but one told to me by someone I served with (PVT D). As cancer finally got him, I thought I would pass his story on for him. It has been thirty-plus years, so I may be paraphrasing a bit.It was graduation day. Everyone had GI'ed the barracks to the nth degree. They were waiting for the Drill Sergeants to inspect them before final formation, practice, and graduation. SDS B. (B for Bastard) was the resident psychopath, and the most feared of the Company’s Cadre. As he was moving from bay to bay, you heard an occasional bark from him over minor uniform gigs.However, he kept it "low-key", and for the first time complemented each bay for their cleanliness.

SDS B. gets to the last bay, and instantly zeroes in on the one window, on the entire floor, that was accidentally left open about one inch. It was like a Great White finding that one drop of blood in 161 million square miles of Ocean, and the feeding frenzy began. SDS B stands there for a few seconds, staring at the window, yanks a wall locker over and yells: “THESE BARRACKS LOOK LIKE S#!t!” He proceeds to put everyone at attention, storms out; yelling epithets that question the specieal origins of all the Privates.Roughly a minute later, SDS B returns with several other Drill Sergeants, and several sandbags. The frenzied Great Whites proceed to cut open the sand bags, flinging sand everywhere. SDS B then yells: "YOU WASTES OF A DRUNKEN ONE NIGHTER HAVE THIRTY MINUTES TO GET THESE BAYS SPOTLESS! YOU BETTER NOT F___ UP YOUR CLASS As, OR YOU WILL PAY WITH BLOOD! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE I JUST BUTTF___ED YOUR FAVORITE COUSIN? MOVE!"Doing their best not to mess up their Class As, the platoon scrambles to clean up a hundred pounds of thinly spread sand. Thirty minutes pass, and someone yells at-ease as SDS B enters the floor. Everyone is in the hall, at parade rest, and waiting for all hell to break loose. SDS B pokes his head around the corner, looks down the hall, and calmly states: “Looks good. Everyone move out!”Drill Sergeant, or 37-Series? Sometimes it’s hard to tell any difference.

send a letter to congress
No items found.
Adds section
Next Up
No items found.
No items found.