“Home After Marine Boot Camp Training”

WARNING…THIS Post WILL Offend most decent people, PLEASE Remember that the author of this Blog was or rather IS a UNITED STATES MARINE, who must be given some major leeway, since Marines are by ‘design and training’ turned into the finest, craziest, pumped-up on adrenalin, PROUD, S.O.B’s that ever graced America’s fighting forces. “The FEW. The PROUD. The MARINES!” Please forgive me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=US&v=BzccgMy0P6s (Hey this is what it means to ‘embed’):





Donald comes home after 4 months of U.S. Marine training!
“I had just sat down to a typical Sunday afternoon meal with my Adoptive Parents (hereafter referred to as Mom and Dad). My sister Lorelei was still at home, it would be a couple of years before I secretly helped her to elope with…yes, a Marine. My adopted brother David, born of a Thailand woman studying for her Ph. D and a French Foreign Exchange student, was about six years old. Dinner was Southern Fried Steak, mashed potatoes (sp?) and gravy, creamed yellow corn, a salad on the side, Apple pie for dessert…after four months plus at Marine Boot Camp and Infantry Training Regiment combined, I WAS READY for a home cooked meal!!



I had taken off my Marine Dress Green uniform with the National Defense Medal above my left breast pocket. Dangling beneath, was the ‘iron cross’ of a Sharpshooter Rifleman’s badge, though I had earned the ‘Expert Badge’ I preferred the look of the Iron Cross with USMC Emblem. On my sleeve was the single stripe of PFC, Private First Class. No other badges, name tags, ornaments or ropes, or unit patches are worn by Marines. Simplicity.

I was getting something from the kitchen cabinet for the dining table, just on the other side of the room, when I looked out the window and saw THEM. ‘Them’ were two middle-school boys walking NOT on the sidewalk in front of our suburban middle-class home, BUT ON the manicured lawn. THE lawn that must be watered daily, weeded of pesky milkweed and other foreign plant elements that were NOT DICONDRA, Mom’s grass of choice. Now let me tell you about Dicondra. MY MOM’s grass cover, “dense high quality ground cover with low growth, beautiful color Dicondra” (This here is military jargon/slang way of cataloguing ‘Everything that is necessary’. It is then ‘ISSUED’ to your Marine. If it is not important, it will not be issued. period).

Dicondra

Dicondra is a dense high quality ground cover, but not a true lawn grass. Dicondra is low growing with with beautiful color. Dicondra is a warm season plant with oval shaped leaves. Used for low maintenance and erosion control areas. Can be mowed.


Dichondra is best adapted for cool coastal conditions. It will grow in partial shade, but does best in full sun. Because dichondra does not tolerate heavy traffic, it is better adapted for smaller areas rather than large lawns or where mowing is difficult. Broadleaf weed invasions are common and can be difficult to manage. I am NOT making this UP! I toiled everyday after school on this lawn, pulling out sticky, stinking milkweed; other grasses that would dare to try growing; watered BY Hand so that it was not Under-watered nor Over-watered. I had Time, energy, sweat, etc invested in This Dicondra lawn cover, dense high quality, low growing, beautiful color, with oval-shaped leaves.


“Dichondra does not tolerate heavy traffic and there, right before my eyes, ‘THEM’ two middle-school boys were treading, kicking and tromping upon my Mom’s “dicondra-ground cover, oval shaped Tender leaves that does not tolerate heavy traffic”, WITH NO respect!! Without thinking, acting instantaneously at this most grievous insult, I pulled open the sliding window and let loose.

“Hey!!! Get yer F*#kin’ Asses OFF the Grass!!!” I then bolted out of the front door and continued to rave like a madman at these two from our front porch, at them, two now terrified middle-school thugs who had dared damage MY MOM’s Dicondra (etc, etc.). “What the F*#Kin’ HELL you think you are DOING?! Are you Morons? Use the GOD DAMN sidewalk, or I’ll break your legs!! Move it!!” My face must have been contorted into a demoniac rage or certainly Linda Blair lookalike but I still felt absolutely RIGHT about my explosion of displeasure at the outrage done by these two hooligans. I instantly composed myself and calmly walked back into the kitchen and sat down like nothing untoward had occurred.

Dad, Lorelei, and David sat in stunned silence…Oddly, Mom had a slight smirk on her face, which my sister can attest could drive one batty. Mom looked at Dad and remarked quite calmly, considering my actions, “Well! Donald is a Marine now. Honey, why don’t you say grace.” With nothing more said, we bowed our heads, I at the position of attention of course- shoulders back, head bowed at 45 degree angle. Dad spoke nonchalantly, “Let’s bow our heads…Heavenly Father, we thank you for this meal which you have provided….”



Instead of my Dad’s words I could hear vividly, the Marine Drill Instructor on the first ‘breakfast,morning meal’, after arrival at San Diego Recruit Depot in the wee hours of the morning.

“Ladies! Listen up! You WILL bow your heads before eating your meals. There will be no F*#king Atheists in MY Marine Corps!! I don’t care if you pray to Jesus Christ, Mohammed, Buddha, or your God Damn Aunt Sally…YOU WILL Bow your heads and Silently ask SOMEONE to bless your F*#King FOOD. Do you maggots understand me?”

A chorus came from the 95 in my training platoon #3086, (only 35 of these finished the 13 grueling weeks to Graduation Day).

“Sir, yes Sir!”

“WHAT?!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!”

“SIR! YES, SIR!!”

Hmmm…Lightning had not struck me, Mom and Dad did not freak out. I was no longer a boy, I was a *#@!!! United States Marine.