The third day was more marching and running and yelling. Some of the fat fellows had some bad problems keeping up when we were running and some had problems just marching. They were picked on hard. They were told that if they couldn’t cut it then they would be sent off to the “Fat Farm”. If they couldn’t make it there then they would either be kicked out or worse, stay for another ten weeks. It seemed like everyday for the next few days that one at a time they would be sent off to the “Fat Farm”.
I was lucky that I had run track in Jr. High school. I ran the mile and I was pretty good at it. I several first places, once came in third in a all city meet with a time of 5 minutes and 18 seconds. I loved it when we ran, there was less harassment. Except for the who would fall out, they would go through a lot of pain.
After about a week of intense training in marching and exercising it must have become my turn to be messed with. Tagalari would screw with me and the next thing would know Hernandez was on my case. I got choked a lot. I did a lot of push ups. Then one day I had the pleasure to learn what bend and mother fuckers were. This exercise was a squat thrust with a push up. They were very hard, but I caught on quickly.
In making up our platoon there had to be a leader that lead the way. He was called a guide on. This position was usually assigned to the largest man, usually the toughest. He would lead the way. He also excelled at drill that’s why he would be at the front. That position would lead to the first stripe that you would receive meritoriously upon graduation from boot camp.
I was on of the thinest men in my platoon, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to be the guide so I tried everything I could. This meant matching up with him in hand to hand combat training. When we fought with pug-el sticks. Once in the pug-el circle he got the stick and I got the rubber hose. The hose represented a bayonet. I got my ass kicked. The drill sergeants loved seeing me try. Always as a result of me losing I would get extra bends and mother fuckers to do.
One day Hernandez asked me why I kept trying and I said that I wanted to lead men. I wanted to be promoted when I graduated. He then told me of a job that I could have and that I would have a team of two other men to lead through out boot camp. This position had a lot of responsibility. the name of the assignment was “House Mouse”, I was “King Rat”. This job was a job that made me and the other house mice look like kiss asses. I would have to run to the mess hall and get coffee, we would have to spit shine the drill sergeants shoes and boots. We got real good at that.
