I will never forget standing in formation after
the end of our final “hump,” Marine-speak for a forced
march, at the end of the Crucible in March, 1997. The Crucible
is the final challenge during Marine Corps boot camp and is a
two-and-a-half-day, physically exhausting exercise in which sleep
deprivation, scarce food, and a series of obstacles test teamwork
and toughness. The formidable nine-mile stretch ended with our
ascent up the “Grim Reaper,” a small mountain in the
hilly terrain of Camp Pendleton, California. As we stood at attention,
the commanding officer made his way through our lines, inspecting
his troops and giving each of us an eagle, globe and anchor pin,
the mark of our final transition from recruit to Marine. But what
I recall most was not the pain and exhaustion that filled every
ounce of my trembling body, but the sounds that surrounded me
as I stood at attention with eyes forward.
Mixed within the repetitive refrains of Lee Greenwood’s
“God Bless the USA,” belting from a massive sound
system, were the soft and gentle sobs emanating from numerous
newborn Marines. Their cries stood in stark contrast to the so-called
“warrior spirit” we had earned and now came to epitomize.
While some may claim that these unmanly responses resulted from
a patriotic emotional fit or even out of a sense of pride in being
called “Marine” for the very first time, I know that
for many the moisture streaming down our cheeks represented something
much more anguished and heartrending.
What I learned about Marines is that despite the stereotype of
the chivalrous knight, wearing dress blues with sword drawn, or
the green killing machine that is always “ready to rumble,”
the young men and women I encountered instead comprised a cross-section
of working-class America. There were neither knights nor machines
among us. During my five years of active-duty service, I befriended
a “recovering” meth addict who was still using, a
young male who had prostituted himself to pay his rent before
he signed up, an El Salvadoran immigrant serving in order to receive
a green card, a single mother who could not afford her child’s
healthcare needs as a civilian, a gay teenager who entertained
our platoon by singing Madonna karaoke in the barracks to the
delight of us all, and many of the country’s poor and poorly
educated. I came to understand very well what those cries on top
of the Grim Reaper expressed. Those teardrops represented hope
in the promise of a change in our lives from a world that, for
many of us as civilians, seemed utterly hopeless.
Marine Corps boot camp is a 13-week training regimen unlike any
other. According to the USMC’s recruiting Web site, “Marine
Recruits learn to use their intelligence . . . and to live as
upstanding moral beings with real purpose.” Yet if teaching
intelligence and morals are the stated purpose of its training,
the Corps has peculiar ways of implementing its pedagogy. In reality,
its educational method is based on a planned and structured form
of cruelty. I remember my first visit to the “chow hall”
in which three drill instructors (DIs), wearing their signature
“Smokey Bear” covers, pounced upon me for having looked
at them, screaming that I was a “nasty piece of civilian
shit.” From then on, I learned that you could only look
at a DI when instructed to by the command of “Eyeballs!”
In addition, recruits could only speak in the third person, thus
ridding our vocabulary of the term “I” and divorcing
ourselves from our previous civilian identities.
Our emerging group mentality was built upon and reinforced by
tearing down and degrading us through a series of regimented and
ritualistic exercises in the first phase of boot camp. Despite
having an African American and a Latino DI, recruits in my platoon
were ridiculed with derogatory language that included racial epithets.
But recruits of color were not the only victims; we were all “fags,”
“pussies,” and “shitbags.” We survived
through a twisted sort of leveling based on what military historian
Christian G. Appy calls a “solidarity of the despised.”
We relearned how to execute every activity, including the most
personal aspects of our hygiene. While eating, we could only use
our right hand while our left had to stay directly on our knee,
and our eyes had to stare directly at our food trays. Our bathroom
breaks were so brief that three recruits would share a urinal
at a time so that the entire platoon of 63 recruits could relieve
themselves in our minute-and-half time limit. On several occasions,
recruits soiled their uniforms during training. Every evening,
DIs inspected our boots for proper polish and our belt buckles
for satisfactory shine while we stood at attention in our underwear.
Then we would “mount our racks” (bunk beds), lie at
attention, and scream all three verses of the Marine Corps hymn
at the top of our lungs. While the DIs would proclaim that these
inspections were to insure that our bodies had not been injured
during training, I suspect that there were ulterior motives as
well. These examinations were attempts to indoctrinate us with
an emerging military masculinity that is based upon male sexuality
linked to respect for the uniform and a fetishization of combat.
After the playing of “Taps,” lights went out, at
which time a DI would circle around the room and begin moralizing.
“One of these days, you’re going to figure out what’s
really tough in the world,” he would exclaim. “You
think you’ve got it so bad. But in recruit training, you
get three meals a day while we tell you when to shit and blink,”
he continued. The DI would then lower his voice. “But when
you’re out on your own, you’re gonna see what’s
hard. You’ll see what tough is when you knock up your old
woman. You’ll realize what’s cruel when you get married
and find yourself stuck with a fat bitch who just squats out ungrateful
kids. You’ll learn what the real world’s about when
you’re overseas and your wife back in the states robs you
blind and sleeps with your best friend.” The DI’s
nightly homiletic speeches, full of an unabashed hatred of women,
were part of the second phase of boot camp, the process of rebuilding
recruits into Marines.
The process of reconstructing recruits and molding them into
future troops is based on building a team that sees itself in
opposition to those who are outside of it. After the initial shock
of the first phase of training, DIs indoctrinate recruits to dehumanize
the enemy in order to train them how to overcome any fear or prejudice
against killing. In fact, according to longtime counter-recruitment
activist Tod Ensign, the military has deliberately researched
how to best design training to teach recruits how to kill. Such
research was needed because humans are instinctively reluctant
to kill. Dr. Dave Grossman disclosed in his work, On Killing,
that fewer than 20 percent of U.S. troops fired their weapons
in World War II during combat. As a result, the military reformed
training standards so that more soldiers would pull their trigger
against the enemy. Grossman credits these training modifications
for the transformation of the armed forces in the Vietnam War,
in which 90-95 percent of soldiers fired their weapons. These
reforms in training were based on teaching recruits how to dehumanize
the enemy.
The process of dehumanization is central to military training.
During Vietnam, the enemy was simply a “gook,” “dink,”
or a “slope.” Today, “rag head” and “sand
nigger” are the current racist epithets lodged against Arabs
and Muslims. After every command, we would scream, “Kill!”
But our call for blood took on particular importance during our
physical training, when we learned how to fight with pugil sticks
(wooden sticks with padded ends), how to run an obstacle course
with fixed bayonets, or how to box and engage in hand-to-hand
combat. We were told to imagine the “enemy” in all
of our combat training, and it was always implied that the “enemy”
was of Middle Eastern descent. “When some rag head comes
lurking up from behind, you’re gonna give ’em ONE,”
barked the training DI. We all howled in unison, “Kill!”
Likewise, when we charged toward the dummy on an obstacle course
with our fixed bayonets, it was clear to all that the lifeless
form was Arab.
Even in 1997, we were being brainwashed to accept the coming
Iraq War. Abruptly interrupting a class -- one of numerous courses
we attended on military history, first aid, and survival skills
-- a Series Chief DI excitedly announced that all training was
coming to a halt. We were to be shipped immediately to the Gulf
because Saddam had just fired missiles into Israel. Given that
we lived with no knowledge of the outside world, with neither
TV nor newspapers, and that we experienced constant high levels
of stress and a discombobulating environment, the DI’s false
assertion seemed all too believable. After a half-hour panic,
we were led out of the auditorium to face the rebuke and scorn
of our platoon DIs. It turned out that the interruption was a
skit planned to scare us into the realization that we could face
war at any moment. The trick certainly had the planned effect
on me, as I pondered what the hell I had gotten myself into. I
also now realize that we were being indoctrinated with schemes
for war in the Middle East. Our hatred of the Arab “other”
was crafted from the very beginning of our training through fear
and hate.
Almost ten years since I stood on the yellow footprints that
greet new recruits at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego,
I express gratitude for my luck during my enlistment. I was fortunate
to have never witnessed a day of combat and was honorably discharged
months after 9/11. However, joining the military is like playing
Russian Roulette. With wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the likelihood
of military action against Iran, troops in the Corps today are
playing with grimmer odds. In these “dirty wars,”
troops cannot tell friend from foe, leading to war crimes against
a civilian population. Our government is cynically promoting a
campaign of lies and deception to justify its illegal actions
(with the complicity of both parties in Washington), and our troops
are fighting to support regimes that lack popular support and
legitimacy.
With over 2,700 U.S. troops now dead and thousands more maimed
and crippled, I look back to the other young men I heard sobbing
on that sunny wintry morning on top of the “Reaper.”
The reasons we enlisted were as varied as our personal histories.
Yet it is the starkest irony that the hope we collectively expressed
for a better life may have indeed cost us our very lives. When
one pulls the trigger called “enlistment,” he or she
faces the gambling chance of experiencing war, conflicts which
inevitably lead to the degradation of the human spirit.
The recent allegations of war crimes committed by U.S. troops
at Al-Mahmudiyah, Haditha, and Ishaqi are, in fact, part and parcel
of all imperialist wars. The USMC’s claim that recruits
learn “to live as upstanding moral beings with real purpose”
is a sickening ploy aimed to disguise its true objectives. Given
the fact that Marines are molded to kill the enemy “other”
from the first day of training, combined with the bestial nature
of colonial war, it should come as no surprise that rather than
turning “degenerates” into paragons of virtue, the
Corps is more likely transforming men into monsters.
And yet as much as these war crimes reveal about the conditions
of war, the circumstances facing an occupying force, and the peculiar
brand of Marine training, they also reflect a bitter truth about
the civilian world in which we live. It speaks volumes that in
order for young working-class men and women to gain self-confidence
or self-worth, they seek to join an institution that trains them
how to destroy, maim, and kill. The desire to become a Marine
— as a journey to one’s manhood or as a path to self-improvement
— is a stinging indictment of the pathology of our class-ridden
world.
Sources: “Recruit Training -- Accepting The Challenge,”
Marines, August 5, 2006; www.marines.com/page/usmc.jsp?pageId=/page/Detail-XML-Conversion.jsp?pageName=The-Crucible&flashRedirect=true;
Christian G. Appy, “Military Training: Basic Training”
in America’s Military Today: The Challenge of Militarism,
ed. Tod Ensign (2004); Lt. Col. Dave Grossman, On Killing
(1995); David Roediger, “Gook: the short history of an Americanism,”
in Towards the Abolition of Whiteness: Essays on Race, Politics,
and Working-Class History (1994).
Martin Smith is a former Marine Corps sergeant, discharged
in 2002, and a member of Iraq
Veterans Against the War.
This article is from Draft NOtices, the newsletter
of the Committee Opposed to Militarism and the Draft (http://www.comdsd.org) |