thedrifter
03-05-06, 07:14 AM
A Test of Heart
Mandy Zatynski
Statesville Record and Landmark
Saturday, March 4, 2006
Editor’s note: Staff Writer Mandy Zatynski and Photographer Bruce Matlock spent three days in Parris Island, S.C., getting an inside look at how Marines are made. Over the next three days, the R&L will publish a series of stories and photos.
PARRIS ISLAND, S.C. - Last month, 17-year-old Jonathan Stephenson took the oath of honor.
Too young to vote, but old enough to train to fight for that right, Stephenson was sworn into the U.S. Marine Corps at the Military Entrance Processing Station in Charlotte.
The South Iredell High senior said he has known he would enlist since his freshman year, when he joined his school’s Marine Corps JROTC.
“I want to serve my country,” he said matter of factly on the drive home from the ceremony.
His grandparents, who served in the U.S. Air Force, are nervous but supportive, he said.
“They’re like any family would be - uneasy but anxious to see how I’ll do,” he said.
Nationally, Marine recruiters have sent about 10,750 men and women to boot camp since October 2005. That exceeded their goal of 10,307, said Marines spokeswoman Maj. Wes Hayes.
North Carolina annually sends more than 800 recruits for training each year.
The Troutman native hopes the Marines will become a full-time and longtime fixture on his resume.
He ships to Parris Island, one of two Marine recruit boot camps in the nation, next January so he has time to finish his last year of high school. All male recruits east of the Mississippi, as well as all female recruits nationwide, train on the island just outside of Beaufort, S.C. The other boot camp is located in San Diego.
“If I had a choice, I’d go today,” Stephenson said after he took the oath.
“I’m ecstatic.”
The Gen. EA Pollock Memorial Causeway is the only entry to Parris Island, where recruits train to become deadly marksmen.
The road is serene, welcoming and has a tropical feel - just as the base’s name suggests. Imported palm trees evenly on both sides of the two-lane road surrounded by marshlands and, in the distance, the Atlantic Ocean welcome visitors.
The sun setting to the west splashed red, pink and purple hues across the sky one evening last month. It looked like paradise, albeit a paradise that new Marine recruits never see.
When they arrive at the gates, darkness hides the waving palm trees on both sides.
Officers aboard the bus order the recruits to look down.
The next time they look up, a drill instructor is yelling them off of the bus. They scurry to cover the infamous yellow footprints painted on the cement in front of the receiving building.
Any Marine will tell you that there, they learned that the 45-degree angle the prints make was the way to stand at attention, with their fists clenched at their sides and thumbs touching the seams of their pants.
There, they got in line behind the large, stainless steel doors, baring the Corps’ eagle, anchor and globe emblem.
There, drill instructors told them, “This is a one-time entrance.
You cannot exit these doors.”
There, they removed “I,” “me” and “we” from their vocabulary.
There, they began the 13-week process of becoming U.S. Marines.
“I was scared to death when I got off of that bus,” said Bradley Stapleton, 20, of Statesville, who graduated from boot camp last month.
New recruits generally are brought on the base in the middle of the night “to disorient them,” said Parris Island spokeswoman Cpl. Darhonda Rodela.
“If they’re scared out of their minds, they will indeed fight through it,” said Rodela, 20, who first stood on those footprints three years ago. “They’re fighting because they know they’re going to be here 13 weeks at least.
“That’s three months away from everybody.”
Statesville native J.R. Nicholson, 22, called his first night at Parris Island “the most nerve-wracking. It was more of a culture shock.“
Nicholson, who arrived on the island Dec. 12, ended his sentences with “ma’am” and only talked about himself in the third person.
“This recruit is enjoying himself training, ma’am. He’s getting to better himself,” he said, even though he admitted earlier, “It’s a little tougher than expected.”
Marine officials say recruits are stripped of their individuality as soon as they enter boot camp so they will embrace the essence of Marinehood - teamwork.
“We don’t just make them miserable. We show them how to take care of themselves,” said Staff Sgt. Rachel Eltz, a drill instructor.
Nearby, her recruits were working through the second day of a three-day war test dubbed “The Crucible.”
With four hours of sleep and a six-mile hike behind them, teams of two female recruits helped each other climb over and around two horizontal, cable-supported logs. Teetering and sometimes falling - other recruits waiting their turns caught them - they used each other for balance and stability.
Eltz, a Marine since 1995, said tenacious people thrive in boot camp.
“The ones who don’t can’t get beyond themselves. The selfish ones … they fail here,” she said.
Platoons, groups of up to 70 recruits, train, live and eat together. The two or three drill instructors overseeing them fill in as mom or dad. And while most of the physical training - martial arts, hiking, swimming and obstacle courses - requires individual strength and technique, recruits say they work harder for the sake of their platoons.
Steven Ishuin, 18, of Lenoir said his platoon hoped to regain ownership of the “red rag” - a red flag given to the best-performing or outstanding platoon in a company. The flag accompanies a platoon’s yellow identification flag, which distinguishes platoons from each other on rifle ranges and other areas of the base.
“It’s not anything special,” Ishuin said. “It’s just a pride thing.”
Ishuin’s platoon had the “red rag” for a while, he said, “until we got stubborn and didn’t yell loud enough one morning.”
Time is hard to perceive for recruits. They do not have watches, and drill instructors dictate their days.
Ishuin uses mealtimes to signify the passage of time.
“The longest part of the day is from early chow until now,” he said, while eating a boxed lunch on the field near a rifle range.
Around him, shots rang out. Just behind the targets stood the bunkers, which hid the ocean from most recruits’ view - and knowledge.
“I thought I would see a lot of beaches,” Ishuin, who arrived Dec. 27, said in between bites of his sandwich. “But I haven’t seen the beach yet. I don’t really know how far away we are from the beach.”
Ellie
Mandy Zatynski
Statesville Record and Landmark
Saturday, March 4, 2006
Editor’s note: Staff Writer Mandy Zatynski and Photographer Bruce Matlock spent three days in Parris Island, S.C., getting an inside look at how Marines are made. Over the next three days, the R&L will publish a series of stories and photos.
PARRIS ISLAND, S.C. - Last month, 17-year-old Jonathan Stephenson took the oath of honor.
Too young to vote, but old enough to train to fight for that right, Stephenson was sworn into the U.S. Marine Corps at the Military Entrance Processing Station in Charlotte.
The South Iredell High senior said he has known he would enlist since his freshman year, when he joined his school’s Marine Corps JROTC.
“I want to serve my country,” he said matter of factly on the drive home from the ceremony.
His grandparents, who served in the U.S. Air Force, are nervous but supportive, he said.
“They’re like any family would be - uneasy but anxious to see how I’ll do,” he said.
Nationally, Marine recruiters have sent about 10,750 men and women to boot camp since October 2005. That exceeded their goal of 10,307, said Marines spokeswoman Maj. Wes Hayes.
North Carolina annually sends more than 800 recruits for training each year.
The Troutman native hopes the Marines will become a full-time and longtime fixture on his resume.
He ships to Parris Island, one of two Marine recruit boot camps in the nation, next January so he has time to finish his last year of high school. All male recruits east of the Mississippi, as well as all female recruits nationwide, train on the island just outside of Beaufort, S.C. The other boot camp is located in San Diego.
“If I had a choice, I’d go today,” Stephenson said after he took the oath.
“I’m ecstatic.”
The Gen. EA Pollock Memorial Causeway is the only entry to Parris Island, where recruits train to become deadly marksmen.
The road is serene, welcoming and has a tropical feel - just as the base’s name suggests. Imported palm trees evenly on both sides of the two-lane road surrounded by marshlands and, in the distance, the Atlantic Ocean welcome visitors.
The sun setting to the west splashed red, pink and purple hues across the sky one evening last month. It looked like paradise, albeit a paradise that new Marine recruits never see.
When they arrive at the gates, darkness hides the waving palm trees on both sides.
Officers aboard the bus order the recruits to look down.
The next time they look up, a drill instructor is yelling them off of the bus. They scurry to cover the infamous yellow footprints painted on the cement in front of the receiving building.
Any Marine will tell you that there, they learned that the 45-degree angle the prints make was the way to stand at attention, with their fists clenched at their sides and thumbs touching the seams of their pants.
There, they got in line behind the large, stainless steel doors, baring the Corps’ eagle, anchor and globe emblem.
There, drill instructors told them, “This is a one-time entrance.
You cannot exit these doors.”
There, they removed “I,” “me” and “we” from their vocabulary.
There, they began the 13-week process of becoming U.S. Marines.
“I was scared to death when I got off of that bus,” said Bradley Stapleton, 20, of Statesville, who graduated from boot camp last month.
New recruits generally are brought on the base in the middle of the night “to disorient them,” said Parris Island spokeswoman Cpl. Darhonda Rodela.
“If they’re scared out of their minds, they will indeed fight through it,” said Rodela, 20, who first stood on those footprints three years ago. “They’re fighting because they know they’re going to be here 13 weeks at least.
“That’s three months away from everybody.”
Statesville native J.R. Nicholson, 22, called his first night at Parris Island “the most nerve-wracking. It was more of a culture shock.“
Nicholson, who arrived on the island Dec. 12, ended his sentences with “ma’am” and only talked about himself in the third person.
“This recruit is enjoying himself training, ma’am. He’s getting to better himself,” he said, even though he admitted earlier, “It’s a little tougher than expected.”
Marine officials say recruits are stripped of their individuality as soon as they enter boot camp so they will embrace the essence of Marinehood - teamwork.
“We don’t just make them miserable. We show them how to take care of themselves,” said Staff Sgt. Rachel Eltz, a drill instructor.
Nearby, her recruits were working through the second day of a three-day war test dubbed “The Crucible.”
With four hours of sleep and a six-mile hike behind them, teams of two female recruits helped each other climb over and around two horizontal, cable-supported logs. Teetering and sometimes falling - other recruits waiting their turns caught them - they used each other for balance and stability.
Eltz, a Marine since 1995, said tenacious people thrive in boot camp.
“The ones who don’t can’t get beyond themselves. The selfish ones … they fail here,” she said.
Platoons, groups of up to 70 recruits, train, live and eat together. The two or three drill instructors overseeing them fill in as mom or dad. And while most of the physical training - martial arts, hiking, swimming and obstacle courses - requires individual strength and technique, recruits say they work harder for the sake of their platoons.
Steven Ishuin, 18, of Lenoir said his platoon hoped to regain ownership of the “red rag” - a red flag given to the best-performing or outstanding platoon in a company. The flag accompanies a platoon’s yellow identification flag, which distinguishes platoons from each other on rifle ranges and other areas of the base.
“It’s not anything special,” Ishuin said. “It’s just a pride thing.”
Ishuin’s platoon had the “red rag” for a while, he said, “until we got stubborn and didn’t yell loud enough one morning.”
Time is hard to perceive for recruits. They do not have watches, and drill instructors dictate their days.
Ishuin uses mealtimes to signify the passage of time.
“The longest part of the day is from early chow until now,” he said, while eating a boxed lunch on the field near a rifle range.
Around him, shots rang out. Just behind the targets stood the bunkers, which hid the ocean from most recruits’ view - and knowledge.
“I thought I would see a lot of beaches,” Ishuin, who arrived Dec. 27, said in between bites of his sandwich. “But I haven’t seen the beach yet. I don’t really know how far away we are from the beach.”
Ellie