whisked away at the last instant. It was surreal and hard to get my head around. I had no idea what to expect, and while I was well aware I'd be dead by now if it hadn't been for Captain Jack, I certainly didn't plan to whip myself up into a patriotic frenzy for the old Western Alliance. Fatigue won out in the end, and I fell asleep pretty quickly and didn't stir until they woke me up to start whatever it was I was starting.
Basic training was everything you'd expect it to be, and then some. But before I even got to camp, I experienced some of the busiest and most hectic days of my life.
It started with a comprehensive medical exam, and I do mean an extensive one. I was poked, probed, and prodded in every spot and orifice on my body. They took samples and then more samples. Blood, DNA, spinal fluid, urine, stool, skin, saliva, semen, blood marrow, and just about every variety of tissue in my body. They put me through every manner of imaging and scanning device, and when they were through they plugged a bunch of monitors into me and put me through the most vigorous exercise I had ever experienced.
But they were after more than my body, and the physical tests were followed up by a series of mental and emotional exams. I sat at a terminal for hours taking one test after another. Some seemed to evaluate my logical responses, others just my store of knowledge. Still others were completely baffling in purpose, asking odd questions like, "If mankind could possess only one, what is more valuable, an inexhaustible energy source or a drug that cures all disease?"
Then came the batteries of psych testing, and some of this was really bizarre. It started with normal interviews, questions about my childhood, my beliefs, my thoughts on all sorts of things. I got a little uncomfortable talking about my years with the gang, as I had done some really bad things. But they didn't seem to care about that. I guess being a teenage killer was good prep for a marine career.
They did a series of tests under a variety of stimuli. I was drugged and questioned very aggressively about a wide and seemingly random variety of things. I was stripped naked and strapped to a chair in a freezing cold room and interrogated for two hours about everything from my thoughts on the government to why I don't like sweet potatoes. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd seen a sweet potato, but they managed to get me to confess to an aversion for the things.
They finished up by sending in an officer to inform me that my testing indicated I was not suitable for marine service and that I was to be taken immediately to the Justice Center for my capital sentence to be carried out. He then got up and walked out without a word while they monitored my reactions for 20 minutes before telling me it was only a test.
Sore, exhausted, and disoriented, I was finally taken back to my room and told I could sleep, which I did for the next 20 hours. I woke up ravenously hungry, and I had just gotten up and started toward the door with the intention of banging on it until someone let me out, when it slid open and Captain Jack walked in.
"You look well rested," he said with an obnoxious little smile on his face. I think he could see that I was trying to come up with something nasty to say, because before I could open my mouth he went on. "Relax, Erik, we all got the same treatment you did...and we've all been through everything you're going to be dealing with."
I didn't catch the half mocking, half sympathetic tone at the time, but looking back it was definitely there. Of course every marine starts the same way. Every one of us goes through the same recruiting and training, and if we get through it, we all make our first assault as privates. It was no different for me than for anyone else.
The whole thing struck me as odd when it was first explained to me. I didn't have any military history education at the time, but if
Basic training was everything you'd expect it to be, and then some. But before I even got to camp, I experienced some of the busiest and most hectic days of my life.
It started with a comprehensive medical exam, and I do mean an extensive one. I was poked, probed, and prodded in every spot and orifice on my body. They took samples and then more samples. Blood, DNA, spinal fluid, urine, stool, skin, saliva, semen, blood marrow, and just about every variety of tissue in my body. They put me through every manner of imaging and scanning device, and when they were through they plugged a bunch of monitors into me and put me through the most vigorous exercise I had ever experienced.
But they were after more than my body, and the physical tests were followed up by a series of mental and emotional exams. I sat at a terminal for hours taking one test after another. Some seemed to evaluate my logical responses, others just my store of knowledge. Still others were completely baffling in purpose, asking odd questions like, "If mankind could possess only one, what is more valuable, an inexhaustible energy source or a drug that cures all disease?"
Then came the batteries of psych testing, and some of this was really bizarre. It started with normal interviews, questions about my childhood, my beliefs, my thoughts on all sorts of things. I got a little uncomfortable talking about my years with the gang, as I had done some really bad things. But they didn't seem to care about that. I guess being a teenage killer was good prep for a marine career.
They did a series of tests under a variety of stimuli. I was drugged and questioned very aggressively about a wide and seemingly random variety of things. I was stripped naked and strapped to a chair in a freezing cold room and interrogated for two hours about everything from my thoughts on the government to why I don't like sweet potatoes. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd seen a sweet potato, but they managed to get me to confess to an aversion for the things.
They finished up by sending in an officer to inform me that my testing indicated I was not suitable for marine service and that I was to be taken immediately to the Justice Center for my capital sentence to be carried out. He then got up and walked out without a word while they monitored my reactions for 20 minutes before telling me it was only a test.
Sore, exhausted, and disoriented, I was finally taken back to my room and told I could sleep, which I did for the next 20 hours. I woke up ravenously hungry, and I had just gotten up and started toward the door with the intention of banging on it until someone let me out, when it slid open and Captain Jack walked in.
"You look well rested," he said with an obnoxious little smile on his face. I think he could see that I was trying to come up with something nasty to say, because before I could open my mouth he went on. "Relax, Erik, we all got the same treatment you did...and we've all been through everything you're going to be dealing with."
I didn't catch the half mocking, half sympathetic tone at the time, but looking back it was definitely there. Of course every marine starts the same way. Every one of us goes through the same recruiting and training, and if we get through it, we all make our first assault as privates. It was no different for me than for anyone else.
The whole thing struck me as odd when it was first explained to me. I didn't have any military history education at the time, but if
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