Here's a jolt to your memory! Meeting your DI's for the 1st time.

[kdickerson]

Do any of you remember, like I do, the first day you met your "true" DI's? I mean, after you spent the first week or two in receiving and then in came the new DI's when you got dropped into your platoon.

[CrockettJW]

How could I forget? I remember those DIs in the receiving barracks seeming like they were mean. One of them (I think his name was Sgt. Black) said, "A week from now, you're going to realize I'm the nicest DI you ever met." I remember thinking, "Not likely!" But he was right.

In Receiving, they told us who our DIs were going to be and told us to memorize their names. When we met them, they marched us over to the barracks with all our gear, then had us in the quarterdeck and brought them in.

Within a day or two, we had this guy who "respectfully refused" to do push-ups. There was a formation of the entire company as they told us how this guy was going to get NJP and moved to another platoon.

[R Landry]

Here's how I recollected it for some 70 and 80 year old ladies in my writing class....

With heavily laden sea bags and rifles slung about our shoulders, we were now made to stand outside in the hot sun on a paved area upon another set of yellow-paint footprints in four rows – or squads. It was very muggy and there was that swampy methane smell in the air. We batted at sand fleas swarming around our faces. Smokey Bear Hat shouted more vile epithets at us and we were told to ‘Stand By’. Stand by? Stand by for what?


“Stand at attention you ****ing maggots!” thundered a new voice. Before snapping to what amounted to an unschooled attitude of attention, I glanced around and saw that three new Marines each wearing Smokey Bear hats were swarming around us recruits. Uh oh, these new guys must be our drill instructors. “Forward, march!” barked one of them. As we moved through the muggy heat, two of the new drill instructors were darting in and out of our formation shouting at the top of their lungs at various recruits. It was not unlike wild dogs attacking a herd of wildebeests. “What the **** are you looking at, huh? Yes I’m talking to you, you god damned ****bag!” You see, since we had not yet been taught to march with eyes forward, some of us green recruits were looking all around in fear which caught the eyes of our tormentors. It was quite a shock, this ‘introduction’ to our three drill instructors, our ‘caregivers’ for the next 10 weeks.I did not know this at the time, but each of our three drill instructors had different but overlapping duties in training recruits. The Senior Drill Instructor, usually an E-6 Staff Sergeant, was sort of a father figure and supervised the other two drill instructors, or ‘DIs’. The Senior Drill Instructor, also called the SDI or ‘Senior’, was distinguished by his wide black leather duty belt (the lesser DIs wore wide green webbed duty belts). The second-ranking DI, usually an E-5 Sergeant, was, in fact, our primary drill instructor in close-order drill, or marching. He was usually called the ‘Drill Hat’. The third DI, usually an E-4 Corporal, was an Assistant Drill Instructor, also called the ‘Kill Hat’, and was responsible for academic instruction and the overall discipline of the recruits. As the Sergeant and the Corporal swarmed around us as we marched, I noticed that the SDI was off to the side, keeping a steady ‘left…, left…, left, right, left’ cadence.


We crossed a wide road and shambled upon a great expanse of asphalt. Trying to ignore the hail of insults being spit, literally, into our faces, I noticed other platoons of Marine recruits marching. They appeared to be marching with great precision and holding their rifles on their shoulders. Each platoon was headed by a recruit carrying a long pole flying some sort of flag and several ribbons of various colors. These platoons were obviously in advanced training – and it showed. Catching our stares, the SDI bellowed that he was going to do his damnedest to get us to look and march like those platoons out there yonder but said “I don’t think you ****ing scumbags got it in you!’ He was throwing a challenge at us. Meanwhile, the other two DIs continued to penetrate our formation and our ‘personal spaces’ and torment us. The Corporal’s shirt bulged with huge muscles and his face was flushed beet-red and the veins in his neck stood out in high relief. His staccato rantings had an unholy screeching sound that was positively inhuman. The brim of his Smokey bear hat was brushing against our faces as his saliva spewed out in accompaniment to an unceasing string of ingeniously-crafted profanities and imprecations threatening – no, promising serious bodily harm to come. I wondered if he, and the other DIs, would be allowed to make good on their threats and promises. So far, not a hand was laid on us. Maybe later?


We crossed the drill field and approached a white H-shaped wooden building. Beyond the barracks was a vast expanse of swampland – that’s where that funky smell was coming from! One of the DIs opened a door to the lower right hand story and we were ordered to go inside at a double-quick pace. Somehow, all 80 of us recruits were either assigned to or we each found the next available metal bunk beds - or racks - just like those in the receiving barracks the night before. Our long rectangular barracks room, or squad bay, about 20 feet wide and more than 100 feet long, was the right-handed vertical stoke of the ‘H’ shape of the barracks building. Each long wall of the squad bay had a row of racks arranged perpendicular to the walls with a wide corridor – or passageway - between each row. So we had about 15 or so racks on one side with space in the middle to access the middle part of the ‘H’ of the rest of the building, and 25 or so racks on the other side. Each rack had a thin bare mattress covered with a pillow. We were ordered to sling our rifles on the rear frames of the racks and to place our sea bags on our assigned racks. Now behind closed doors, in this hot, muggy, smelly, and claustrophobic space - our Marine Corps training began in earnest.

[GT6238]

Our first senior came in and stood in the doorway. Remember the tables they had us standing at in receiving? OK...how can I say this??? He was a dark green S/Sgt. and a Recon. Anyway, a dark green recruit apparently smiled and the DI saw it. He hopped up on a table and jumped across two or three to get to the guy and reached down and got him by the neck and yelled "Do you like me, n-word???" Then he went into a rant and scared the bunch of us. YIKES

[Cpl Heglar]

We had hands laid on us from day one all the way to graduation, nothing extraordinary, the usual "thumping" of recruits, but for those with real attitude problems, they were beaten half to death all the time, until they got with the program. They always "fell out of their rack, Sir", if anyone happened to ask what had happened.

The ones with really bad attitudes, the DIs would grab hold of both ears, bring the recruit's head down fast, the face smashing right into the upward motion of the DIs knee, and that would make for quite a chastisement.

This being a court-martial offense even back then, 1963, the venetian blinds in the old wooden barracks would be closed prior to any physical correction being administered.

It was a scary 13 weeks, psychologically and physical-contact wise.

Dave how the hades do you follow that? I would not have made it in your Marine Corps.

[USNAviator]

We had hands laid on us from day one all the way to graduation, nothing extraordinary, the usual "thumping" of recruits, but for those with real attitude problems, they were beaten half to death all the time, until they got with the program. They always "fell out of their rack, Sir", if anyone happened to ask what had happened.

The ones with really bad attitudes, the DIs would grab hold of both ears, bring the recruit's head down fast, the face smashing right into the upward motion of the DIs knee, and that would make for quite a chastisement.

This being a court-martial offense even back then, 1963, the venetian blinds in the old wooden barracks would be closed prior to any physical correction being administered.

It was a scary 13 weeks, psychologically and physical-contact wise.

You know Dave this doesn't sound at all like Quantico. And that's all I have to say on this thread, But I agree, it's a great idea and I'm looking forward to reading furthers posts

[Mongoose]

We got our DIs first night. After processing in till 3 in the morning. They had us on the yellow footprints waiting for them to show up. They came up from behind us and all hell broke loose. The choking and beatings started on the foot prints. And didnt stop till a week before graduation. Our Plt. Commander was a V.N. veteran with a Bronze Star and P.H. He was meaner than hell and I shivered every time I saw him. But would love to be able to tell him how much he did for me. I thought about him many times in Nam. I would catch myself wondering what he tell me to do if he was there with me. No greater respect do I have for any man than SSGT. R.O. Reed.

[advanced]

Sounds like ya'll had it tough back then.

[advanced]

In Jan 67 we arrived by bus at PI about 2 in the morning. We made our phone calls and were taken to a barracks and slept for a couple of hours. Up at 5 or so, haircuts, uniforms, 782 gear. Picked up our DI's that afternoon and we were in a world of ****. We had to carry all our gear and seabag, that's a lot of stuff over to the 3rd Batt.

Since I was in the first platoon of our series of 3 platoons, we went through forming for about a week and a half till the other 2 platoons were formed. They kept threatening us with not starting training if we didn't shape up. Thumpings, beatings, we were totally messed with during this period. Our training period was 8 weeks because of the war.

We started with 96 (the war was going strong) and we had 5 DI's, our senior was a Gunny Lindsey, and we had 2 Staff Sgts and 2 Sgt E-5's. During training we dropped 45+ and graduated with close to 90. At the end of boot camp they offered me OCS but Damn if I wanted to go through that **** again.

As bad as it was, and it was bad back then, it should have been 10 times worse because of where they sent us, Hue City, Meade River and all the other operations in the Arizona and Dodge City.

My biggest regret about becoming a Marine is that I never dreamed that I would lose that many friends and brothers. I was so naive before I joined the corps.

[Old Marine]

OK Dave. I believe you. You can rest your case now. Did you receive any Air Farce training when you went in there. Post it up.

[BauerBrat]

I went through PI in '54. Hotter than hell that summer and I'm from 'Bama so I know heat. But there is just some sort of special heat the Corps must save for PI

Was lucky, my two older brothers had gone through so I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and my ears open

But yes I saw some pretty brutal things done to some of my fellow recruits. Looking back on it now I don't take pride that I allowed it to go unreported. Some of those DI's were just sick individuals.

I agree that some "thumping" is to be expected. I got thumped a few times no big deal. But breaking a mans nose or thumb is beyond training, that's sadism. Yes it did happen all you kiddies who read this. You break a mans thumb he's not very useful

Many of the DI's had come from Korea and I think had a chip on their shoulder that they fought in a war that most consider a draw. Not the Marines fault or the Army's, it was the politicians. If you're going to fight a war, give it all or walk away. The same applies to all of my brothers who were f$cked over in Viet Nam.


Semper Fi

Brat

[Old Marine]

Dave: Next time you go near a medical office and they are going to vacinate you be sure and check the needle, because sometimes its like somewhere along the line you must have gotten vacinated by a phonograph needle. (broken record, broken record) Have a great day.

[BauerBrat]

Dave: Next time you go near a medical office and they are going to vacinate you be sure and check the needle, because sometimes its like somewhere along the line you must have gotten vacinated by a phonograph needle. (broken record, broken record) Have a great day.

I'll make sure I take that advice to heart Harold.

Semper Fi Marine

[Old Marine]

All I can say is when I attended the University of Recruit Training, at MCRD, SD, most of it is a blur. I have always been able to block out things that are not pleasant. I do remember that if we were not thumped each and every day, we figured the D.I. was either hung over or sick.

I also remember living in tents for two weeks at the Range at Camp Mathews, where the D.I.'s had a habit of letting the bolt slam home on your trigger finger so you would squeeze the trigger. Lots of black trigger fingers back then.

[Old Marine]

Are you telling me there is another Dave on this forum?? I was pulling you chain Dave.