nerd happy

This morning got off to kind of a rough start. I was up at midnight buffing the floors. I was not a good buffer and heard about it this morning. Then the 1st Sergeant pulled me aside to tell me I was not a good saluter and to give me saluting lessons. I walked into the building later and he got mad at me for something another girl said. Fortunately she came clean and claimed her remarks. I felt poopy lipped, so I made cards for other girls who are also not feeling very special to cadre.

The great consolation of the day was that we began our study of 200 years of military history. I sat pen poised, coffee cup full, and laptop at hand. Just like college. Instead of a booming, fast talking sergeant or captain, our instructor was a lovely older man. I don't think he'll yell at us or insult us at all. We don't have to talk to him at the position of attention. And this is the first topic I may actually understand better than my hands-on counterparts. Having homework that's effortless was thrilling.

I have learned to salute. I've learned to use the buffer effectively. Tomorrow may be better.

We belong to each other

I've always had a pretty independent streak, so belonging to an organization where everyone is responsible for each other has been a big change. If one person on a team does the wrong thing, their leadership is in trouble. If half of the company messes up, the whole company loses privileges (i.e. having to sleep at attention). This groupiness is counteracted by the fact that we have to critique and rate each other every week.

This is how things went down this week where I belong. 7 of the 10 people on my squad went to basic together. The team was feeling the team love and agreed that every week we would change the order of how we rated people so no one would end up in the bottom twice. It was our pact. Today I found out the pact was really only created to benefit the 7 old friends who always rated each other in the top and that they were choosing amongst themselves which of the remaining three of us would get the bottom slot. I don't belong to them. Then they critiqued me for not spending enough time with them. I do belong to them. Our sergeant figured out ways they were rigging the system and created new squads. I don't belong to them.

The tricky thing is that we need each other to survive here. We need them to rate us well. But there are weasels amongst us. Survivor island continues.

combatives

The morning got off to a rough start with a run I almost fell out of before the guy in back of me refused to pass and screamed a motivational "Get your ass up there!" Good pep talk in a pinch. We had a little pre-breakfast combatives, which is like wrestling school. Unlike Basic, here they make females pair up with males. Thank God my partner was 1. not married so I didn't feel disrespectful of his special person, 2. not a creeper, and 3. a former wrestler. It's actually pretty empowering to know how to choke someone out with your legs should the opportunity ever present itself.

Then I learned machine gun theory. We had lectures all day of defensive positions-- where to position troops to your greatest advantage. War movies will make way more sense to me know. It was interesting.

One girl packed up and left today. A guy was asking if I would ever quit. I said I told God I wasn't coordinated enough for this, and he told me to stay where I am.

New bedtime procedure here since people got in trouble. 5 minutes before lights out we assemble in the hall with our canteens.
At my command hydrate. We drink in unison.
Prepare to sing. We belt out the alma mater.
Prepare to mount. We get in bed.
At my command, sleep. We lay down in the position of attention and close our eyes. At first I thought it would be ridiculous, but the whole thing is so hilarious I kind of enjoyed it last night.

thick skin II

Why does living surrounded by guys make me lonely for men? In the last 24 hours:

Male on my floor, "You're totally rocking the freshman female look. You know, like when girls gain 15 lbs and just walk around in sweatpants and a beanie cap all the time."

Male in my squad, "What's up with the females and metabolism here? I can't believe how much food you all put on your trays."

Priest at mass-- No great quote, but he just spoke about the evils of contraception. It was his tribute for mother's day to inspire people to go procreate. Nothing was mentioned to males about being careful with who they knock up or sticking around to help out. Weird.

After all of this I found it incredibly reassuring when a female from another platoon related that a guy in her squad thinks I have a nice ass. It's my hallmark moment for the week. At both Basic and here the LDS guys are the safest bet for friends.

Thicker skin

Saturdays are generally something to look forward to here. We get time to catch up on homework, a little more time to be on electronics, and no long lectures. But there is one sad piece of Saturdays which is the Peer Review. Every week we have to rate everyone in our squad and read what each person considers our greatest strength and weakness to be. This counts towards our points. We're told not to take it personally, to approach it with thick skin. I have no such thick skin. Last week I wasn't confident enough. This week I don't try hard enough at PT & suck at the obstacle course. I can't seem to remember any of the strengths through I recall there were words written on that side of the page. I need to get stoic about things, but I always want to withdraw and make new friends after reading my Peers. There are no hugs at OCS. I am achieving some literal thick skin with the calluses on my hands from attempting pull-ups that are the admission ticket into every meal.

Two unofficial peer reviews this week: "you would make a great pothead." "Your calluses look like a bear's hand."

I started a small group for females last night that we're unofficially categorizing as tears, fears, and first names. It's where we bring our secret lives that aren't meant for sharing with the combat males. To be confident, we don't admit to doubts about making it here. To be strong, we don't shed tears when we feel like we're failing, misunderstood, or insulted. Our first names are irrelevant and only appear in letters from home. But for one hour a week I will have a first name, will share in group confessions, will have a romantic past, and will hear my name. It's the anti-peer review.

creature comforts

This morning we completed our first release run-- just 3 miles. I came through with consistency more than drive with all about 8 minute miles. Sustainable if not speedy. Than it was a loooonnnnggg day of power point. They covered about 2 hours worth of content over a mere 7 hour span. Tomorrow is the obstacle course where I am bound to humiliate myself and get a little black and blue. If I survive I'll feel like I've reached a turning point where I can handle the next 3 weeks.

I don't really miss creature comforts at this point. Sleep is adequate if not indulgent. Coffee is allowable as are long showers. We have dessert. I have my phone without much time to use it. I just miss spirituality and good conversation. Surrounded by people without the chance to get to know them well.

ruck

It was a 4:40 a.m. wake-up for our 2nd 5 mile ruck carrying about 45 lbs. We headed off in the darkness piled down with gear at a rapid clip. I tend to spend the first mile imagining the stress fractures my hips are enduring and feeling like I'll incur damage that will leave me with a walker at the age of 60. These visions always include me wearing ugly stretch waist polyester pants and being angry with the way life turned out from that one unfortunate ruck march that broke me. I spend the second mile imagining the faces of my best pals at holdover company, and thinking of the good times we'll have together if I fall out, get recycled, and have to start over with them. Mile 3 I've moved on to remembering that if I get recycled and have to class up again it must occur by Monday when Alpha begins. If I miss Alpha, Bravo is said to be run by tyrants with fangs. Panic. Shortness of breath. Mile 4 I think about how life could be okay if I go to AIT as enlisted. What can I see myself as more? A plumber or electrician? Leaning towards plumber. Mile 5 I remember I suck at fixing stuff. I pray my way every step up cardiac hill. Jesus gets me up that hill. Another march survived.

I tell myself these days that either I become an officer, and it's a job that requires everything I am plus some. If I don't make it, the Army gives me a mechanical job that requires almost nothing of me but showing up--no soul required. Odd options here.

This night

Tonight should be full of champagne and buying beer & wings for soldiers to celebrate the death of Bin Laden. Whoo-hoo! There is no formal celebration at Fort Benning for the OCS, but there is still a huge sense of elation. I thank the tattooed wonders who have worked so hard for this.