"Hallo, there!
This being the end of our third week--and, for administrative purposes, the beginning (on Tuesday) of our Week 3--I thought I might send a line out to all of you at large, and let you have a glimpse of what's going on in my life right now. Some of it's fun, some of it hurts, and almost all of it requires constant focus and effort.
I'd like to say I've thought of you all often since coming here, but I haven't, not so much. More like once or twice. I don't have much time to think about anything other than boot camp, though, so don't feel too badly. I mean, I've thought about home, what, three of four times? The intensity level here is constant and high, so if you're not always 100% on point, you've automatically got someone right in your face.
That intensity started even before arriving on base. New recruits fly in from all over the country into O'Hare essentially all day, and once they arrive--well. When us TN bunch, we has a decent (read: lousy upscale) dinner at one of the airport's restaurants, checked in at the USO office, headed down to the transit level, turned a corner, and were instantly screamed at for not moving fast enough. We were rushed into a circle, we showed people various papers, we removed various adornments, we had our sleeves checked for concealed weapons, and then we were herded onto a section of floor where we sat, cross-legged, rank and file, until shuttles arrived to take us to the base.
Mildly disorienting. I'm sure Red can vouch for the truth of my words.
Then began a long series of in-processing hoops to jump through. Paperwork, urine samples for drug tests, PT-gear issue (along with undergarments) and personal possession boxing and shipping, shaving, more paperwork, breakfast finally (after seven hours of this), haircuts (aka shaving), 1st uniform and seabag issue, marching out to our barracks (fifteen minutes of walking), quick stowing, marching back, brief meetings with advisers in our career field, sitting in empty classrooms for waiting time (NO SLEEPING, bad things happened if you did), sitting in more classrooms getting our Computer-Based Training (CBT) login information squared away, more medical stuff, on and on and on.
Eventually we were allowed to sleep.
For four hours. Then right back to Medical.
During the initial processing hours, during and right after our PT-gear and sweats issue, we were all divided into divisions of about 80-90 apiece. I was pulled out of the general recruit stock and slotted into the 905 Staff Division at basically the last second; part of me thinks I was a quota recruit, since the only possible reason I could have made a physical-ready/fast learning division was the latter part, but I'll touch on that later.
Div. 905 is one of the three special division types: Triple Threat, which is winds/choir/drum corps; Rifles, which is pretty self-explanatory; and Staff, which is us. We basically train on special days to run the graduation ceremonies, and because that necessarily cuts into normal training time, Staff division recruits are selected based on their aptitude for fast-paced training. On top of that, though, we're also a 'push' division: our normal grad date would be Dec. 23rd, but that obviously creates scheduling conflicts all over the place. The regular divisions (referred to nastily as Rifleland) will be graduating the week following that; we are slated for the week prior. So we have even less time than normal.
Of course, having such a large collection of high-intelligence people in the same division means out intelligence quickly becomes stupidity. The large majority of us--of which at least 25 of NUCs--can easily see multiple scenarios and possibilities for simple tasks, or get distracted from the goal by thinking beyond the goal, or other typical smart people nonsense that only serves to unnecessarily complicate what should be something as simple as 'Halt (step stop)'. We also have this peculiar propensity to run our mouths, and I know I don't have to tell you how bad an idea that is.
So when we do something collectively retarded, we end up collectively doing Intensive Training (IT), which is a fancy, politically-correct way of saying "we beat your ass for an hour". Right now, we're about three/four weeks in and...it isn't really taking.
But anyway.
The campus--when I can see it--is very nice. Lots of green, lots of sky, clean buildings, etc. Mostly this is what I see while marching between various buildings, so I haven't had a chance to properly acquaint myself with the place; besides, we spend the majority of our time in this one compartment. It's probably about 150 ft. long and almost 50 ft. wide, and has enough two-person bunks to house 90 people comfortably (read: elbow room and a bigass center space you don't ever mess up). The glass on the windows is frosted over, as well, so there's no way to see what goes on outside. Depressing, for me, but it removes a probably unneeded distraction from general recruit life.
I'll tell you all more later. I need to wrap this up for now because of limited time. We aren't actually authorised to write letters except during Holiday Routine (Sunday mornings and the mornings of holidays), and at other times, if our RCDs allow it, but at least half of us take time right after taps to scribble out notes under the red lights of sleep hours. It's currently 2200 on the 15th; this letter has been written over the course of the past three days, and it might not even be sent for the rest of the week.
If you want to ask me or tell me anything, even if it's just Kat saying 'Go to hell' (because I dunno, she might want to, just for the lulz), talk to Kei. She's been read into what to do, and she'll know how to coagulate (fun word, that) everything.
Just finished Tuesday, 3-1 Day, which I mentioned when I first started. Graduation is 7-1 Day. Or Dec. 16th. It's supposed to be a Friday. Might be a Thursday. Dunno. But only four full work-weeks to get through now. Hoo-yah.
Gravity to Sound.
--Al"
