Dear Diary...

I suppose that I should post up some sort of story about what I've been doing for the last fourteen weeks. So here we go:

Day one is known as the 'shark attack'. The reception battalion where we had been staying for the last ten days is a fairly laid-back place, with very little to do and not much supervision from the Drill Sergeants. But the moment that thee change of command ceremony is over, the new DSs morph into screaming, micromanaging assholes. We held our bags on the front of our chests and over our heads until we were all loaded onto the bus, and then again once we got off at our barracks. We were rushed up into our bay, where it was put out in vivid detail what would happen if we failed to keep it clean.

I don't remember a whole lot about the first three weeks. It was a lot of classroom time, getting us used to the place and putting out information we may or may not have needed but had to be put out. We learned our drills and ceremonies, and various other odds and ends.

We were issued our weapons sometime in the first week, along with ten rounds of blank ammunition and stern warnings about what would happen if we lost a single round. We carried our weapons with us everywhere, in the classroom, in the chowhall, on our marches hither and yon. They were locked up at night, but that was the only time we did not have them on us. Even then, we had to have the locked racks under guard all night.

My first impression with the M16A4 rifle was rather poor, though I learned to trust it as time went on. It was very unlike the bolt-action rifles I had been used to before I came in. I thought it was too heavy (I grew accustomed to the weight), too unreliable (I found it to function just fine when cared for), and too inaccurate (it is plenty accurate for the infantryman's needs). Over time, though, I learned to trust my weapon as we went through the mud and sand and rain.

We had our gas chamber experience, not a fun time. I got to go through twice, and while I had my mask on for most of the first run, I had nothing but my weapon on the second. I had to stand in the room, breathing CS gas while everybody filed in, and then state my name, rank, and social security number to the masked DS before I could leave. All with my lungs burning, eyes watering, and sinuses trying to drown the earth in snot. You truly do choke the words out. And the gas wasn't even full strength.

We really didn't do much in the way of fun the first three weeks. We went through first aid, IED classes, land navigation, and WMD survival training, which was all fine and good, but nothing that really gripped our enthusiasm.