Hello from my office at home,
It has been a long week, and it seems just when I think I have some things figured out, I don’t. The fall (and late summer too) have been incredibly busy, to the point of taxing, but I am maintaining. Maybe not as well as I wish, but the proverbial head is above the surface (whatever you do, do not turn your head!!). The past weeks and months have been focused on 50 years ago, and as this is written, 50 years ago today, I was marching on the parade deck at MCRD as a graduate of Marine Corps Boot Camp. I was not the honor recruit of my battalion; I was not even promoted to PFC as some of every platoon are. I merely was one of many who completed the 80 regiment necessary to join the Fleet Marine Force. And yet, for this underweight, undersized, and immature, recently-turned 18 year old . . . and by only a few days, graduating from boot camp was a success of epic proportion for me. I had barely made it in because I was so small, and in 80 days, I grew three inches and gained 30 pounds (a 26.09% increase in my weight in less than three months). That is a serious growth spurt, and yet, I still looked like I was in middle school.
Entering the Marine Corps, looking back, was somewhat of a pipe dream. I had gone to that recruiter in Sioux City because I skipped school one day, and I was convinced (as was quite easily done) to visit the Armed Forces Recruiting Station. Over the next weeks, because I scored so well on the entrance examinations, I was given a contact to go into whatever MOS I wanted (I had no idea what I was doing). Because I had lettered in a sport in high school and had reasonable grades, I ended up in an honor platoon that required each member to have graduated from high school and lettered in a sport. Fifty years ago, there were a number of individuals who ended up in the Armed Forces because it was preferable to going to jail. We did end up with a couple of tag-a-longs in our platoon, but the great majority of us traveled from the airport in Omaha to the airport in San Diego to begin our journey on the yellow-footprints. As I noted in a recent blog, my father’s admonishment that I did not know what I was doing was profoundly accurate.
Boot camp is unlike any experience one will ever have (and certainly while the Marine Corps is known for its boot experience), and I believe to some degree the same can be said for any branch of the military. In fact, I would imagine the shock is even more extreme in a world where everyone gets the trophy. I remember the first time I got mail. When you received mail, which was a big thing, the entire platoon was seated in close quarters on the floor. We referred to it as the impact area (imagine 60 18-20 year olds crammed into a 20×20 sqft space). As your name was called, you were required to stand up and respond loudly, “Sir, Private is here, sir!” I stood and shouted the requisite response to which my Drill Instructor, SSgt. M.D. Blood (his real name), responded, “Bullshit! I said stand up!” I responded, “Sir, the Private is standing up, sir!” To which he again responded, “Bullshit!! You cannot be that God damn small and be in my Marine Corps!” He then asked where I was from. I answered the questions, but I doubt there was anything beyond my lack of size that amazed him. He then told me that I was to be a house mouse, which I had no idea what that meant. I would find out, and additionally, from now on, he would refer to me as Private Chicken Body!! That meant whenever he called, “Chicken Body!!” I would have to run to him and respond, “Sir, Private Chicken Body reporting as ordered, sir!” Quite the moniker for the next 80 days of my life. I had made it into the Marines by going across the street to a bakery and working to make it to 115 pounds. As I got to boot camp, I had maintained that weight, but was told if I lost even as much as a pound I would be dropped to Physical Conditioning Platoon. To make sure I did not drop weight, I was put into the chow-line behind what (and we were all whats, not whos) was referred to as a “fat body;” I had to eat all their carbs plus mine three means a day. That was a lot of food, and additionally, I had to be done eating at the same time as everyone else. To this day, I can probably eat faster than most anyone around me.
While I was singled out due to my diminutive size, ironically, I could not disappear. All three of my drill instructors knew where I was at all times, and as the house mouse, I was responsible for cleaning their quarters every morning with the other house mouse and king rat, the leader of the three of us. The one thing being small did do in terms of advantages was make pull ups and running easier because I had little weight to carry. On the other hand, when it got into some of the hand-to-hand combat things, I ended up on the losing end of some things until I learned to use my speed and agility a bit more effectively. Perhaps the more difficult thing was my immaturity. I had never really felt supported in a number of spaces, so being there alone was at times overwhelming. It was my grandmother’s letters that kept me going. She told me how proud she was of me, and how she believed in me. I needed those words of affirmation more than she knew. Even when we were in second or third phases (the latter portions of recruit training), I had hurdles to overcome. One day I did not qualify on the rifle range, and I ended up in the sand pit for two hours. When I was coming back for third phrase, I got hit in the knee with a seabag and almost sprained a knee. I was petrified I was going to be dropped and have to be picked up later, but I managed. When we did water safety I was petrified because I had almost drowned only two days before boot camp back in a lake at home. It seems that almost weekly there was something that would keep me from reaching graduation on time. So that 27th of September morning fifty years ago meant more than most would ever know. All I knew was this . . . I made it. I graduated on time and with those other recruits I had stepped off the bus with some almost 90 days before.
What I did not know is that four years to the day later, (and because of college and other experiences, I was able to return home a bit early) I was in Ames, IA. I received a phone call from my Great-aunt Helen, my grandmother’s older sister. My grandmother had passed away. The 27th of September, a day of celebration only years before was now a day that gutted me. My grandmother had been my mother when I was a small boy. She was (and is to this day) my hero. She was the person who had sent the letters that helped me hang on in boot camp. She was the person who loved me unconditionally my entire life. She was the woman who taught me as much about manners and goodness as anyone ever would. She was only 64 years old. When the reality that I had lived longer than she did hit me, it was shocking. The same will occur this year, particularly if I live to the next birthday. I will have lived longer than my adopted mother. Grandma Louise was at an event in Storm Lake, IA with her best friend, Bonnie Martin (no relation). They were both very active in the Order of the Eastern Star. It was a regional event, and as told to me, Bonnie turned to put her jacket on her chair. My grandmother, who said nothing laid her head into Bonnie’s lap without a word, and had passed away. I cannot imagine the shock for Bonnie. We would chat about it later in life. As I remember, her older sister, Helen did not request an autopsy, so I have no idea if it was a heart attack or a stroke, but it was quick.
While the losing of her was beyond anything I could imagine, what instantly hit me was I had failed to visit her the last time I was in Sioux City, in spite of promising to do so. I was lazy and did not make time. I took for granted there would be another time. It is something I still regret. I did, and it offers some small level of assuaging my guilt, take the time to call her from a payphone on Highway 71 on the outskirts of Atlantic, IA as I drove back to Ames. It was late morning. I apologized and was honest that I had failed to follow through. She was, as always gracious, and told me we would get together next time. She told me how much she loved me. It would be only weeks later I would receive that phone call. I remember standing at her committal service and sobbing more deeply than I ever cried. I realized in a way I seldom felt since how devastated I was to lose the person I believed loved me more than anyone did. My adopted mother told me regularly she spoiled me, and perhaps there is a degree of truth to that, but I think more accurately she loved unconditionally. I have often noted the worst thing she could have ever said to me was something like “Michael, I am disappointed in you.” That would have destroyed me at the moment, but it would have also pushed me to make sure I never did that again. It was not that I needed her approval; it was more that I wanted to make her proud, to show her that what she had modeled for me in her kindness, her grace, and her elegance made me a better person.
I wish, even to this day, I had sat down with her one last time and spoke with her face-to-face. I wish I could have been a bit more focused and directed in my life. Those attributes would not manifest themselves until after she passed. In my piety even to this day, I wish to make her proud of me. I wish I could tell her how much who she was and what she did was so influential. Sometimes I wonder what we might talk about. I have noted things about her throughout the years I have written in this platform. That was a tragic day not that many years after I had graduated from boot camp. I hope she is as proud of who I have become now as she was the day I completed my indoctrination into the Corps. I hope as I remember that day in the calendar year some 46 years later since she left life she knows just how blessed I am to call her my grandmother. This summer at my reunion, someone reached out when I noted that one of the venues of our reunion was where her bakery was. That classmate, had worked at her bakery, and as we chatted, she noted the same goodness and care than I knew first hand. It was a wonderful surprise to speak with someone who knew her grace and care even now some 50 years later. Dates are a stunning thing, particularly when they remind us of those days where we are fundamentally changed. Grandma, I still miss you; I love you.
An addition . . . I have gone back and proofread and edited. The thing about writing this on my phone the first time is I cannot see what is actually there. I should wait until I can see it on a screen. More lessons . . .
Thank. you as always for reading.
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 
Dr. Martin,
Thank you for sharing your story. It was very heartfelt to hear you talk about your grandmother and I am sorry for your loss. It was amazing how her spirit and kind words were what got you through bootcamp. I can only imagine how great it would feel to get back and open a letter from her, being that she meant so much to you. My grandfather also went through bootcamp and was a navy seal. He’s talked briefly about how hard it was physically and mentally at bootcamp. He expressed there were many times he felt like he couldn’t do it, and had to overcome the mental aspect of it. With that being said, I understand when you say you needed your grandmothers letters. Nothing is better than a great and loving support system.
Your blog makes me think a lot about my grandmother too. I call her GiGi. Often especially being far away for school, I wonder if I should be doing more to see her, especially now that FaceTime is a thing. I know if she were to pass one day and I couldn’t be there, I would also feel guilty about not visiting one last time. Your post opened my eyes to realizing when I have the chance, I should spend as much time as I can with her. Additionally, after reading your post about not being able to see your grandmother during your visit in Sioux City, I think that no matter what she is proud of you and will forever cherish your memories together. Although currently you aren’t able to tell her all the things you want to say, you took your words and said everything you needed to in a post to us! Somehow, I think she can look down, see this post and how much she meant to you. Her legacy will live on forever with you, and also with us as we are able to read about her amazing traits and loving personality.
Thank you for sharing this blog.
Carly Spodofora
Dr. Martin,
Thank you for sharing your story. It was very heartfelt to hear you talk about your grandmother and I am sorry for your loss. It was amazing how her spirit and kind words were what got you through bootcamp. I can only imagine how great it would feel to get back and open a letter from her, being that she meant so much to you. My grandfather also went through bootcamp and was a navy seal. He’s talked briefly about how hard it was physically and mentally at bootcamp. He expressed there were many times he felt like he couldn’t do it, and had to overcome the mental aspect of it. With that being said, I understand when you say you needed your grandmothers letters. Nothing is better than a great and loving support system.
Your blog makes me think a lot about my grandmother too. I call her GiGi. Often especially being far away for school, I wonder if I should be doing more to see her, especially now that FaceTime is a thing. I know if she were to pass one day and I couldn’t be there, I would also feel guilty about not visiting one last time. Your post opened my eyes to realizing when I have the chance, I should spend as much time as I can with her. Additionally, after reading your post about not being able to see your grandmother during your visit in Sioux City, I think that no matter what she is proud of you and will forever cherish your memories together. Although currently you aren’t able to tell her all the things you want to say, you took your words and said everything you needed to in a post to us! Somehow, I think she can look down, see this post and how much she meant to you. Her legacy will live on forever with you, and also with us as we are able to read about her amazing traits and loving personality.
Thank you for sharing this blog.
Carly Spodofora
This is very eye-opening to me as my older brother experienced Marine Bootcamp in 2016. Lots has definitely changed, even since 2016 when my brother was in. His drill instructor once made him dive headfirst into an empty trashcan and stay there. He was also picked on a lot since he was one of the smaller recruits initially. I know a lot has changed with what the drill instructors can say and do to the recruits because of new rules and laws that are in place to protect the recruits. It is very inspiring when you tell your stories about your experience in the Marines since I can compare it to the stories I have heard so far from my brother. One guy in his battalion was hiding snacks in his footlocker, which did not go well for him once the drill instructor caught him. It was almost like that one scene in Full Metal Jacket!
Dr. Martin,
The way you describe your time at boot camp was very effective. I enjoyed reading about your experience and it felt as though I went back in time with you. The dialogue between you and your Drill Instructor felt like something out of a movie, and I can imagine how it must’ve felt to be singled out in front of everyone. Explaining the challenges you faced and how your grandmother’s letters kept you going really amplified your triumph, and I was happy to hear about your success. My grandfather was in the army during the cold war and worked at a Nike Missile base in northern New York. He often shares stories about his time in boot camp and on base, and this post reminded me of him.
My grandfather is 86 years old and I am very fortunate to say that he is still alive and doing very well. I realize, too, that my time with all of my grandparents is limited and I should make the most of it. As you probably know, however, it is difficult to not take our time with people for granted, especially those who we’ve known our entire lives. It feels as though they will be with us forever and so it is especially shocking when they leave us at such a young age. While I understand that death is a part of life, I still fear the inevitable grief of losing someone so important to me. I cannot even fathom the pain of losing a parental figure, and I am truly sorry for your loss. It is my belief, and I’m sure yours as well, that we will all be reunited one day in the afterlife. Whether this turns out to be the case or not, we can take solace in this belief and carry on in the ways out loved ones would have wanted.
Dr Martin,
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your blog post about your experience in the Fleet Marine Force. I wanted to thank you for your service of course, but more importantly, for giving an insight as to what your experience while serving was like. I also wanted to offer my condolences for the loss of your grandmother. She sounds like one of the most kindhearted, welcoming, and down-to-earth people. I know what it is like to lose someone close to you like that. Fortunately for me, I have only lost one family member as of now. Unfortunately for me, it was my grandfather and he was like another brother to me. He and I were super close to one another and when he passed, it felt like part of me did as well. Unrelated, but I tell this to people all the time; heartbreak is a part of life. This generation has a hard time putting their heart on the line because of the fear of getting their heart broken. We need to become okay with the reality of heartbreak because it is going to happen to us no matter what. Whether it’s the loss of a family member, friend, money, a loved one, a job, or anything else, heartbreak is inevitable and that’s reality. You cannot master heartbreak, no matter how many times it happens to you. Each heartbreak feels like your first and that is the cold truth of that.
When it comes to boot camp, I planned on enlisting myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. The thought of giving up so much time and energy to something so demanding intimidated me, I’ll admit. However, I do know friends who have enlisted and I’ve been able to see how it’s changed them mentally and physically. My one friend who enlisted changed so much throughout his time in boot camp. He used to vape constantly and never watched what he ate. He was headed down the wrong path and if it weren’t for the army, I don’t know where he would be right now. I always joked about how he would be in a ditch or somewhere worse, but I do believe that if it weren’t for the army, he would not be here right now. The army took him and changed him for the better. He is super built, both mentally and physically now and is more mature than ever. He carries himself like a true man should and he has not looked back since. Sometimes I envy him and what the army did to him, wishing that I could be in his position. I realize that I don’t need the army to be in his position but when you constantly have someone on your ass for lack of better terms, it gives you more of an incentive to want to push yourself to the max.
I appreciate your insight into your time in boot camp and how it made you who you are today. As a student, I can certainly see how the army shaped you into the man you are today. It is deeply reflected in your teaching and the mannerisms that you bring to each class. I am once again sorry for your loss and wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy. I gets better though, it always does.
Dr. Martin (I forgot the period after Dr.)
(I forgot the period after Dr.)
Dr Martin,
I want to start off by saying your grandmother sounded like a saint on earth. I am so sorry for your loss. I understand how hard it is losing someone so dear to you, someone so prominent in your life. Loosing someone who has stood by you and believed in you during something that, I can only assume from what I know, was one of the hardest things you have had to endure, must have been so painful. I’m sure it does not help that you got the dreadful news on a day so dear to you, it sounds like it would be an extra hard day to get through, with the possibility of bittersweet feelings growing the more times the day has passed.
They say time heals all wounds, but I know from personal experience that wounds caused by deaths don’t heal, they just get easier to manage. I lost my cousin right after his 3rd birthday a few years back. I know the time we knew each other was vastly different than the time you had your grandmother in your life, but I do know how painful that wound can be, even if it’s at a fraction of what you experienced. As much as it sucks, death is an inevitable part of life that we just have to deal with, but it cuts deeper when it’s people we cherish.
Dr. Martin,
I want to preface this by saying I am very sorry for your loss. Something I admire about you in class and on this platform is how honest you are. In class, you tell us personal stories and explain how they have impacted your life. This is no different, and I appreciate that.
Personally, I have not heard about anyone else’s experience with boot camp. I enjoyed how you explained what it was like because you did not sugarcoat it. I also appreciate how you genuinely explain the struggle you faced and how your grandmother helped you through that. Prior to my grandfather’s death, I was very close with my grandmother. I loved how I was able to think of some of my favorite memories with her while I was reading about how wonderful of a person your grandmother was.
I have also experienced a few deaths of close relatives in my life, so I understand the regret and the desire to make them proud. Although, I was young when they occurred, as I mature I find some of these emotions coming through strongly.
Thank you for writing this!
Dr. Martin,
I would like to start this comment off, by saying sorry for your loss. From the reading I could tell how much she meant to you and how she was there through your journey. I know what is like to loose someone so close to you and that is there for you every step you take.
From the reading, I could tell you didn’t have a easy path. You had to work hard to get to where you wanted to be. From the struggles you have faced and being counted out made you stronger. From being doubted on, you didn’t let that get in the way. You drove in one direction to conquer the goal you had set.
Thank you for writing this experience that you have faced in your life,
Hunter Pankake
Dr. Martin,
From hearing your own thoughts and expressing them into this blog post, I feel nothing but sorrow for you especially when a death is present. Death is a hard topic to process and is a long journey in order to venture on with your life. I admire you strength and compassion to get over this tough time in your life. Unfortunately, I have only experienced the death of my Great Uncle but my grandparents are still alive and well. My grandfather served in the Navy, but never heard of any of his boot camp stories. I might have to ask him about it one day but I know it does not even compare to those who endure the Marine boot camp. All in all, it takes a lot of grit and heart to openly talk about this on a public site like this one, in which I have the upmost respect.
Thank you for your service,
Cody VanBenthuysen