Jurassic War

Mary,

Hope this letter finds you well. Got your letters and they made my day. Hadn’t heard from you in a while, then three came at once. I’m glad that you feel the same way as I do. We can have a great life together. At times this place seems like the land that God forgot. Sometimes it feels like I am living in the doorway to hell. They seek to prepare us for the worst that can happen in combat. In doing so, they have made me disciplined, self-controlled, and highly motivated.

We will have means to be self-sufficient when the war is over. I know that we can be happy together and satisfied. It takes me days to write one letter because we have so little time. But you can write as much as you like. I will read every one of them.

You wanted to know what I do here, and I’ve avoided telling the details to keep you from worrying. We get up early every morning by means of the DIs yelling. We have to get dressed in less than ten seconds and make our racks in a blur. Failure to do so results in punishment. We march, drill with rifles, and march again. Failure to drill properly results in punishment. Then we eat and move on to training. Combat training, knives, hand grenades, machineguns. We also learn first-aid and about chemical warfare.

Everything here is mentioned in sea terms: the door is a hatch, the floor a deck, port side, starboard side, aye-aye sir. The quarterdeck is where they take you to get punished when in the squad-bay. Mostly pushups until you drop. DIs push recruits to their limits and then don’t let them rest. And push them some more. It’s where a number of recruits have snapped, had breakdowns, and were taken away. They will never become Marines. I just don’t quit.

They take the entire platoon to an area outside known as the “pit”. We get punished together. Pushups, sit ups, and mountain climbers, as well as jumping jacks and knee bends. We do all this, then start marching and drilling with rifles again. Your arms feel like rubber, but you keep going. The goal is to make us a cohesive unit. And the bugs here are horrendous.

I’ve made it through first phase, physical fitness testing, and swim qualifications. Recruits that can’t swim are called Lead Swans. Swim qual was easy for me because we grew up near lakes and the ocean. Now, we are in second phase with over a quarter of the guys already dropped out. Mostly the drill instructors stressed them by physical training and yelling. We’re out at the rifle range now and they are trying to weed us down further. Here, they make us roll in pricker bushes if we mess up. And they hit us with the butts of our rifles in the chest. Punch us and kick us. DIs dump our foot lockers and make recruits scramble to pick things up. You have to be tough to make it. The DIs are all tough sons-of-bitches.

I seem to be holding up, so you don’t have to worry. Moving fast and not making mistakes keeps me out of the line of fire. I’m in good shape and can shoot a rifle just fine. I don’t expect to get recycled. The book learning is fairly easy for me, too. Lack of sleep might be the hardest part. All part of training us for the fatigue and stress of protracted combat.

My thoughts are with you often and I know when this is through and the war is over, we can have the greatest life together, for us and our kids. As harsh as this place can be, they have an “Esprit de Corps”, an intangible spirit that lifts men up for the good of the group, and we have “Semper Fidelis” which means always faithful. So, I guess I have learned more about loyalty than I ever would have imagined. I will always be faithful to you.

Please don’t be sad about my being gone. This will end soon enough, and I’ll see you when I’m home on leave. We’ll win this war. Then we’ll get an apartment together and eventually a house and kids. You’re the one for me. And you’re the biggest thing in my life.

Love,

Randell

Dear Randell,

I just got another letter from you and it sure made my day. I keep reading it over and over. It makes me happier and happier. All I can think about is how much I love you. You mean the world to me and you don’t have to worry about my breaking up with you during training, like some of the letters the other fellas get down there. I’ll wait as long as it takes for us to be together. One day this war will be over.

I have been very busy with school and working at my afternoon job selling bonds at the bank. Also, I have used the time while you’ve been away to get some organizing done around the house and to help my parents. They have been supportive about what you’re doing. Seems like everyone at school knows that you’ve gone off to the Marines. Everyone wishes you well, especially my family. I’ve spoken to your mother and it has been great, because we both have you in common. She was glad to hear from you and knows that you don’t have much free time to write. I am happy to fill her in. Someday she’ll be my mother-in-law.

One thing I really want to give you is a good life. We share the same goals and will make a fine couple. You mean soo much to me.

The first thing that I want to do when I see you is give you a great big hug and not let go for a while. Whenever I start to feel sad or lonely, I just read your letters and look at your pictures and it makes me happy.

I know that you’re doing this not only for yourself, but for both of us. And for your family and our country.

Love always,

Mary

P.S.: I was glad to hear that you’re doing well. And I’m glad that you’re determined to stick with it and give it all you’ve got. I know that you would never give up and I love and respect all your determination.

Mary,

In the last few days, I’ve gotten a lot of mail from you. I am holding up much better now. Today we did PT all day long. We did circuit weight training, the obstacle course, a 5-mile run, and pushups till we dropped. This evening, my Senior DI came up to me and told me to put my utilities on. Then he asked for another volunteer, saying the he needed a motivated recruit. Another kid stood up and was told to get dressed like me.

We all marched out to the obstacle course to compete against other platoons in our series. The kid went first, and I was the anchor. The first group merely had to run through the course and touch the ropes. The second recruits through had to climb the ropes to the top. Easy to do when you’re fresh, but everyone was ragged from an exhausting day.

I waited and each first round of the other platoons tagged their anchor. My guy didn’t show. I waited and waited. He eventually came around with a busted thumb. So, I took off on the course, and when I came over the high wall, about halfway through, I noticed the others had already reached the ropes and had started to climb. I felt defeated and didn’t think there was a chance. I admit that I slowed down, thinking I couldn’t win.

My drill instructors screamed at me to never give up. Keep on fighting. I picked up speed and forged ahead. I reached the ropes quickly. I started to climb. Partway up, a guy slid down, giving up. This encouraged me. I climbed harder and faster. Another one dropped off. But I grew tired and stalled. My arms burning, lost in a death grip, I heard my Senior DI yelling. He was saying that I was the only one left. I looked around. Nobody was on the ropes but me. I strained and struggled to keep going up the rope. All I had to do now was reach the crossbeam and touch it. It was a race against myself at this point. And I didn’t plan to lose it. So, I kept going, inch by inch, everybody watching, intense. When I reached the top, I paused. And then I slowly slapped my hand on the beam for dramatic sake. My drill instructors were screaming with joy. The platoon went into a frenzy, cheering.

Later that night, my Senior DI told the platoon that I had perseverance. He said it was the hallmark of a great warrior. Not strength or speed, but the ability to persevere in horrible conditions against the odds.

We won the PT flag. Now, when we march, I carry the flag at the front of the platoon. Things are really going well and I’m fitting in with the guys. Feeling respected. Over halfway through and I can’t wait to see you. You shouldn’t be sad at my being gone. We’re coming down the home stretch. It is hard training here and I haven’t had the time to write as much as I’d like. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or that my hopes for our future have changed.

You are all that I think about. My guiding light. I’ve gone to church a few Sundays here and there and pray that we can end this war and be together. Your letters make me happy and give me encouragement to press onward.

Love always,

Randell