One of the times I loved during boot camp was qualifying at the rifle range. We were to try to qualify with the M-14, that was the weapon of choice at that time in the Marines. I would later in the next year have to qualify with the M-16, the newest weapon.
I had fired a 22 long range rifle in boy scouts, so I thought I knew it all. Wrong! The 22 was like a cap gun, a toy compared to the M-14. This rifle had a big recoil and a loud sound. We learned to adjust the sights and we learned about Kentucky windage. I also learned to break down the rifle for cleaning and believe me you did not want to fail an inspection. We had several days of training on the range. We also learned about the all mighty Sand Pit. The Sand Pit was where you would be sent for a little motivation. This place was not necessarily any place in particular. Just a spot the drill instructor would pick out in all of that sand. The Sand Pit was hell of its own kind. One individual or a whole platoon could be sent to the Sand Pit. I personally learned about the Sand Pit while being sent there by the Hernandez, he did not like my tone when I answered him. He escorted be to the pit. When we arrived I had to do one hundred bends and mothers. While I was doing to exercises I smacked a flee on my arm. Hernandez screamed at me like I had just killed his best friend. What did you just do? He said. I told him that a flee was bothering me and that I killed it. I learned that in his Marine Corp there were two protected things provided by God to this world. One was the flee and the other was the rattle snakes that were all over the base. These things were protected, kill them and you pay. I paid for killing the flee by having to do guard duty for the rest of our time there at the rifle range. I believe that I wanted to kill alright just not any flees.
The dictionary describes “Pit” as a whole it the ground, Hell. “Sand” as from the desert. “Sand Pit” = Desert Hell
I qualified as a Sharp Shooter, I almost made Expert, missed my just a couple points. The people that did not qualify would be put back and have to do it all over again. Firing a weapon with some accuracy is important in the military.
Back at San Diego, boot camp was back to the same crap. We were only a few weeks away from graduation. As I suppose, a reward when you have only a couple weeks to go you get to unbutton your top button. This is a significant big deal. We were veterans as far as new recruits were concerned. Blouse unbuttoned at the top, starched cover, shined boots. When we drilled we were as close to perfect as a platoon could get. This made our drill instructors very happy. Things were easier, however, one little mistake and you would be called out and made an example of.
I had a cousin that was also a Marine and he was stationed at Camp Pendleton, California. And he came to my graduation, my family couldn’t make it. That would be a very expensive trip. Dusty had been in the Marines for a couple years and I hadn’t seen him in a lot more than that. It was good to have someone there for the ceremony.
Just before graduation we had formation and the Commanding Officer presented promotions. There were only a small handful of us that got promoted. I was now a PFC. This would be my first meritorious promotion. Not bad for being King Rat. I would have to get all my uniforms sent off to have their first stripes put on.
I was all packed to leave and it felt great. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. I said my good byes to Tagalari and to Hernandez. It felt good to not be looked down as a recruit. I met up with both of them at the airport and we all had a beer together. Hernandez was really human after all, he thanked me for being there for him when he needed his medication. They told me I would go far and to keep my head down if I made it to Vietnam.
