thedrifter
02-20-03, 05:46 PM
Brig blues - Drudgery rules the day when you run into a 'wall in life'
Submitted by: MCB Camp Pendleton
Story Identification Number: 200322015610
Story by Lance Cpl. Matthew S. Richards
MARINE CORPS BASE CAMP PENDLETON, Calif.(February 20, 2003) -- Steel bars slam shut, clanging "no way out" as pretrial detainees and convicts step into a world seemingly devoid of anything but dark white walls and the vacant stares of those forced to settle here. Guards' footsteps occasionally echo through an otherwise quiet hallway.
Even in the mess hall - where inmates get a respite from dreary cells, squad bays and the clasp of cold-steel doors - there's no break from general drabness and an utter lack of liberty. Marines toting trays amble from the serving line to elongated tables against a sterile backdrop of aluminum and linoleum. They sit anonymously under a giant painted eagle perched high on the wall. It stares menacingly, as though ready to pounce on the first breach of procedure.
One hundred and sixty-four Marines currently dwell inside the somber walls of Camp Pendleton's Brig.
All rights of privacy are impounded with the first strip search upon entering the brig. The Marines' phone calls, letters and visitations are all under careful supervision.
Freedoms are few, but lesser criminals are allowed broader latitude, said Chief Warrant Officer 3 Thomas P. Dooley, the brig officer for Brig Company, Security Battalion.
The prisoners are separated into minimum- and maximum-custody groups after the first three days of indoctrination. A board consisting of a chief warrant officer and two senior staff noncommissioned officers decides who goes where.
The prisoners just do as they're told.
Minimum-custody prisoners are given better jobs, and when they aren't working, they're allowed to play cards and board games, watch television or go get some exercise for an hour a day.
Even the promising bright sunlight hinting at an eventual release reflects harshly off the angular stone of the brig into the rusty workout area, and the long laborious hours of distracting work bring bodies back tired to their quiet cold existence.
Minimum-custody prisoners serve as carpenters, cooks, groundskeepers and general laborers.
"Working definitely helps to pass the time. Anything that passes the time is welcome," one inmate said.
Maximum-custody prisoners are locked up in individual cells for about 23 1/2 hours a day. Some are there because they're being disciplined or have contagious medical conditions; others stay here because their sentences are long or their crimes severe, said Cpl. Malachi R. Ortega, a guard with Brig Company.
Patrolling guards' eyes dart to every door that opens or closes. They study every prisoner's step, movement and gesture.
"Minute by minute, the plan of the day for every prisoner or detainee is kept track of," added Dooley.
The prisoners are counted first thing in the morning and at least four more times during the day. Any aspect of privacy or personal rights is removed - almost like boot camp, but without the character-building encouragement, Dooley said.
"More than anything, life here is frustrating. It's like running into a wall in life," said another inmate.
http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/image1.nsf/Lookup/2003220152643/$file/brig1low.jpg
Sempers,
Roger
Submitted by: MCB Camp Pendleton
Story Identification Number: 200322015610
Story by Lance Cpl. Matthew S. Richards
MARINE CORPS BASE CAMP PENDLETON, Calif.(February 20, 2003) -- Steel bars slam shut, clanging "no way out" as pretrial detainees and convicts step into a world seemingly devoid of anything but dark white walls and the vacant stares of those forced to settle here. Guards' footsteps occasionally echo through an otherwise quiet hallway.
Even in the mess hall - where inmates get a respite from dreary cells, squad bays and the clasp of cold-steel doors - there's no break from general drabness and an utter lack of liberty. Marines toting trays amble from the serving line to elongated tables against a sterile backdrop of aluminum and linoleum. They sit anonymously under a giant painted eagle perched high on the wall. It stares menacingly, as though ready to pounce on the first breach of procedure.
One hundred and sixty-four Marines currently dwell inside the somber walls of Camp Pendleton's Brig.
All rights of privacy are impounded with the first strip search upon entering the brig. The Marines' phone calls, letters and visitations are all under careful supervision.
Freedoms are few, but lesser criminals are allowed broader latitude, said Chief Warrant Officer 3 Thomas P. Dooley, the brig officer for Brig Company, Security Battalion.
The prisoners are separated into minimum- and maximum-custody groups after the first three days of indoctrination. A board consisting of a chief warrant officer and two senior staff noncommissioned officers decides who goes where.
The prisoners just do as they're told.
Minimum-custody prisoners are given better jobs, and when they aren't working, they're allowed to play cards and board games, watch television or go get some exercise for an hour a day.
Even the promising bright sunlight hinting at an eventual release reflects harshly off the angular stone of the brig into the rusty workout area, and the long laborious hours of distracting work bring bodies back tired to their quiet cold existence.
Minimum-custody prisoners serve as carpenters, cooks, groundskeepers and general laborers.
"Working definitely helps to pass the time. Anything that passes the time is welcome," one inmate said.
Maximum-custody prisoners are locked up in individual cells for about 23 1/2 hours a day. Some are there because they're being disciplined or have contagious medical conditions; others stay here because their sentences are long or their crimes severe, said Cpl. Malachi R. Ortega, a guard with Brig Company.
Patrolling guards' eyes dart to every door that opens or closes. They study every prisoner's step, movement and gesture.
"Minute by minute, the plan of the day for every prisoner or detainee is kept track of," added Dooley.
The prisoners are counted first thing in the morning and at least four more times during the day. Any aspect of privacy or personal rights is removed - almost like boot camp, but without the character-building encouragement, Dooley said.
"More than anything, life here is frustrating. It's like running into a wall in life," said another inmate.
http://www.usmc.mil/marinelink/image1.nsf/Lookup/2003220152643/$file/brig1low.jpg
Sempers,
Roger