Yet I Move On
             Joining the Marine Corp. was a wake up call like a slap in the face. Showing up for boot camp was a whirlwind of confusion and sleep depravation. I arrived at M.C.R.D. (Marine Recruit Reception Depot), San Diego, at 10:30 at night. I spent the next eighteen to twenty hours getting my thirty or so shots, which didn't feel good, to getting all my uniforms. There were approximately sixty-five of us all looking the same way. We all had a glazed look in our eyes and some looked to have drool leaking out the corners of their mouths. There was a kind of hush in the air, even though we had Drill Instructors yelling at us in all directions.
             As soon as I got settled into my main company the real hell started. The Drill Instructors had a course set up to break every muscle in my body. There were weights set at only 5 pounds, to be lifted twenty times and then move on to another "exercise". After I ran that course I could scarcely lift my arms empty. The pain that I felt was like nothing else I have ever felt. If you have ever picked a wet spaghetti noodle up that is precisely what I felt like, yet I moved on.
             As time went on I was moved to Camp Pendleton, which is about fifty to fifty-five miles from where I was in San Diego. Once I arrived there I noticed a sudden change in the weather. It was very hot and dry, for it was in the California desert. It was here that I would learn to shoot all the weapons that I would be using. I also found out that there was to be at least one forced march of twenty-five miles or so. These marches, or nature walks, consisted
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             of climbing a hill of at least a thirty-five percent grade. As soon as I reached the top of the hill I thought that the hard part was done. I was seriously mistaken. I noticed on the way down the hill we were all headed towards the beach. When you have a ninety-pou...