We pulled up to the 43rd,
On a bus we arrived.
We didn't know what to expect,
But that was one hell of a drive.
The drill sergeant came on,
and we had a little talk.
They told us what to do,
and we made that fateful walk.
We tucked in our shirts,
and pulled back all our hair.
They started to yell,
and we felt the despair.
With our bag in one hand,
we filed into the hall.
We sat on the benches,
definitely not having a ball.
We sat and we listened,
and turned in all our phones.
We made one last call,
and wanted to go home.
We received out PTs,
and made our way to our bed.
We turned in at 0200,
and boy were we dead.
Wake up was at zero-five,
and chow not much later.
We were convinced that the drill sergeants,
were total people haters.
We got out uniforms,
our boots and berets.
We couldn't wait to wear them,
Gosh, that made our day.
We lined up in medical,
still full of some laughs.
Until we got that peanut-butter shot,
You know, that one in your ass?
We left that room,
with pain on our face.
The others laughed at us,
As we did squats and lunges all over the place.
After 7 long days,
in a place almost like hell.
We had new drill sergeants,
that were ready to yell.
We got on that bus,
that feeling in the air.
We thought we knew it before,
it was utmost despair.
We got off the bus,
at the next place we would live.
Where we'd stay for 10 weeks,
and get the training they give.
We ran to formation,
our duffels on our front.
Being yelled at and screamed at,
and feeling like the runt.
We held those duffels above our hear,
and wanted to turn back.
We wanted to quit and go home,
And then we thought, "Oh shit, its shark attack."
We ran to our places,
with a sense of ultimate doom.
We stood in a line
and was assigned our platoon.
We filed into the war bay,
and our day had begun.
We knew without a doubt,
this wasn't gonna be fun.
That dreaded day came,
when we were gonna be gassed.
We started freaking out,
as we sealed and cleared our masks.
Filing into that small room,
DS Stocker was cooking that gas.
He made it hella strong,
and we wanted to haul ass.
We ran outta the chamber,
as fast as we could.
Flapping our arms,
like retarded looking birds.
We walked in circles,
with snot on our face.
With pictures being taken
As we puked all over the place.
In first aid that day,
we couldn't shut up,
DS Vordick had the honor of,
introducing us to the 8-count pushup.
The next big training,
was when we threw grenades.
We laughed behind the shelter,
as we watched others charades.
Next was the warrior tower,
with that rope so tight around our waist.
When it came time for chow,
we couldn't even taste.
As we started the confidence course,
we were all having fun.
We braved Jacob's Ladder,
and jumped in the mud.
We navigated all through the day,
and all through the night.
And we held onto each others CamelBacks,
oh so very tight.
We rode to the building,
we were all so enthused.
On the day we got fitted,
for our very own dress blues.
On our 2nd PT test,
After the 2 mile run.
That fateful day came,
and white phase begun.
Toleafoa was our first PG,
and with that it brought,
the promise of blue phase,
or so we thought.
BRM came and went,
we showed our hard work.
We all qualified,
and had 7 experts.
We sparred and we grappled,
combatives was a blast.
A concussion and a chokeout,
cuz 4th platoon kicked ass.
We were packed on a bus,
to buy tickets for leave.
We knew in an instant,
we would soon have reprieve.
We cleared all the hallways,
and searched all the rooms.
We stumbled up a stairway,
thinking, "Can we go soon?"
We crawled through the mud and climbed up all the ropes,
the warlords were definitely in the zone.
And when it came to pick the best two,
Toleafoa and Mitchell brought that PECS banner home.
On the night before FTX3,
We packed up our rucks.
Our duffels were loaded,
and we knew we were outta luck.
We showed what we learned,
and did what we were told.
We shook and we shivered,
but we were always so damn cold.
Throughout 10 weeks,
we took an hour a night.
To sit in a chair or clean,
fireguard was never a delight.
As we learned the ins and outs,
and what the drill sergeants didn't allow.
We found our way of tracking time,
by living chow to chow.
Sunday was our favorite day,
getting through the week was a chore.
But after this experience, Sundays
are truly more sacred than before.
As we prepare to leave,
with pain and bruises galore.
Take what you learned and who you met,
And remember, WE ARE 4TH PLATOON WARLORDS! Thought I would share my experience, though the poem makes it seem a little bit easier. To be honest though, overall, I was disappointed in my basic experience. It was not physically challenging, almost like a joke. They graduated people that should not, without any doubt in my mind, be in the military at all. I would never trust some of those people ever. But they completed the tasks and passed their PT tests, so they had to graduate. At the end of basic, my battles and I stood in a circle, and could barely pick 15 people of the ENTIRE company (230 people) that we would go to war with. What has the military come to these days? We had multiple people that just wanted their citizenship, so they figured the military was the way to go. I do not want to fight alongside some of these soldiers. Yes, they wear the same uniform as I, but they did not take the training the same as I did. To them, it was a total joke. Someday, they are gonna be responsible for someone else's life in their unit. And no joke, they are going to get someone killed. A day that I will mourn.
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