About Me: The Military Years

With few options open, to the military I went. My ASVAB and SAT scores were pretty high, so I was recruited to be a “Nuke” by the U.S. Navy. The plan was for me to become an Electronics Technician on the nuclear submarines. Boot camp was a snap, for me. Thanks to my dad, again, I was more than prepared for it. The summer before I was to report, my dad worked me hard out in the hay fields of our ranch. My dad was a Navy Veteran of Vietnam, so he “trained” me for the experience that he had when he went through. I think they were a lot tougher back then, because I sailed through boot camp with barely a hitch. Thank you, Dad!

After boot camp, I went to Nuclear Power School. I may have had good grades back in high school, but I was not ready for this. When I had first joined, the recruiter had told me that the school was “challenging”. That is military speak for “damned hard!” My high school was just a small country school and the highest math I ever took as Algebra II. By week 5, we were way past that in Nuke school. I’m a smart guy but, unfortunately, not smart enough in the right ways. I was failed out around week 12 or so. At the time, I was devastated. I had never failed at anything that was really important to me before. I was also scared. To fail out meant that I would be going to the fleet with no school. That usually meant I would be scraping paint for the next four years. Two things go me through that rough time, my dad and the other “drops”. When I called my family to let them know I had been dropped out of the course, my dad gave me some of the best advice I have ever received. “No matter what happens, just remember: They can’t eat you.” Seventeen years later, I still remember that conversation and it still helps me through when thing get tough. The other thing that helped, which I found out later, was that only five students, out of 32, actually made it to graduation. In fact, two of the other drops attempted suicide, so that made me feel better about my own failure.

After being dropped by the Nuke school, I was sent to a holding company to await reassignment. Drops were sent to an administrator to determine what would happen next. If your commanding officer felt that your failure was not due to negligence, he could recommend a chance at another “A” school. “A” schools were where recruits were trained for a specific job; which, in my case, had been the Nuke school. My commander recommended that I have that opportunity. The administrator told me to choose three other jobs that I thought I would like. If there were any openings available, then I would be reassigned to that school. I chose Journalist Mate, Photographers Mate, and Yeoman (i.e. secretary). These three jobs seemed, to me, to be within my capability or interest. Upon being advised that I would not be able to attend any of the schools, my gut fell out. I thought I was going to the fleet undesignated and would be painting ships for the next four years. As it happened though, the yeoman, on a hunch, found another school that did have an opening. He asked me “How would you like to be a Religious Program Specialist?” What!? But I’m an atheist; I can’t be a Religious Program Specialist. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you don’t have to be religious to be an “RP”. It seemed to beat chipping paint, so off I went.

The job of an “RP” is basically to be the chaplain’s assistant and secretary. I spent the next few weeks learning to type and how to set up the services for the major religions. The job is pretty non-denominational since you could be called upon to support any sort of chaplain. I was taught how to set up for Protestant Communion, Catholic Mass, and a host of other services. We also covered how to provide support for the troops that had no chaplain available. It turned out to be quite an interesting job for someone like me. Being an atheist was actually a boon as I didn’t have any hang ups working with different religions. Most of the RPs I went to school with were quite devout and had trouble supporting chaplains that did not accord with their own beliefs. One Southern Baptist RP, I recall, really had problems setting up for a Catholic Mass.

The school ended with the class receiving their orders. Each student’s names would be read aloud and then their new post. Most of the announcements were along the lines of “Seaman Jones, U.S.S. Forrestal. Seaman Smith, U.S.S. Kittyhawk…” But when they called my name, “Seaman Dobbs, 1st Mar Div, FMF”, I had to stop him. “1st Mar Div, FMF…That is a weird sounding ship” said I. The instructor laughed at that and replied, “That ain’t no ship, son. You’re going to the Marine Corps.” Oh crap!
For those that don’t know, the USMC uses Navy personnel, instead of Marines, for some of their jobs. The most well known jobs are Navy doctors and corpsmen, but less well known is that they also use Navy chaplains and RPs. My next stop was Camp Pendleton, California, home of the 1st Marine Division, Fleet Marine Force.

Because I would, ultimately, be stationed with a Marine infantry unit, I had to attend the U.S.M.C. School of Infantry in California. It is at this school that grunts are trained, above and beyond what they receive in boot camp, how to be an infantryman. RPs are sent to this school in order to learn how to integrate into an infantry unit. It is not something that we squids are ready for after coming out of Navy boot camp. Navy boot camp does not teach squids how to shoot or clean an M-16A2 rifle. It does not prepare them for hiking 20 miles with a 50 lb pack on their back. Nor does it get them ready to live with Marines on their turf. Myself and five other RPs from my class reported for SOI completely unprepared for the experience. We didn’t even know how to properly wear our recently issued camouflaged uniforms, which the Jarheads take very seriously.

RPs, when they first show up to SOI, have a choice to make. They are either going to be squids or they are going to go “Jarhead”. My other classmates chose to go squid and for the rest of their time at SOI, they maintained and reinforced the idea that they were NOT Marines. If they couldn’t complete a long hike and had to ride in the truck, well, “they’re just squids”. If they couldn’t shoot worth a damn, well, “they’re just squids.” If their hair got too long, well they were still within Navy regulations for haircuts. As a result of this attitude, my classmates never really integrate with their units. They tended to hang out with the corpsmen that shared that idea. I don’t ever recall consciously making a decision, but I knew that whatever a “Jarhead” could do, so could I. I never fell out of a hike, no matter how much my feet bled. I already knew how to shoot from hunting as a kid. My hair was kept at a Marine friendly length. I never used the fact that I was Navy as an excuse for not doing something that the Marines were doing. I guess that is why I ended up bonding with my unit and was subsequently labeled a devil squid. I, of course, could never be a devil dog because I had not joined the Marine Corps, but I was as close you get.

One night, in particular, still makes me smile. I was out on the town in Oceanside, California with the other RPs I had attended school with. We were still pretty new to the base and hadn’t made many friends yet, so we tended to hang together at this point. As any military person would now, there is often quite a bit of animosity between the base personnel and the “townies”. On that night, there was myself and three of my RP friends. We found ourselves being confronted by a large group of young men that seemed to have a beef with the military. We all felt sure that we were in for some major trouble so we dispersed a bit in order to split the “gang” up. I was focused on what the group was doing and was not paying a lot of attention to what was happening behind me. Surprisingly, the gang looked behind me and then ran off down an alley. I felt sure that I would turn around and find a cop or something behind me. Imagine my surprise when I found about 15 Marines behind me ready to jump in, if needed. As it turned out, they were with a different company at SOI, but had recognized me and were ready to fight with me. The thing to know about this situation was that the 15 Marines were grouped up behind ME, not the other RPs. That was the night that I really knew what “Esprit de corps” meant and forever sealed my fate as a “devil squid”.

After SOI, I was transferred to the 5th Marine Regiment. There is simply too much to tell about my years with the 5th to cover here. Perhaps, I will post other entries covering this period of my life. Suffice to say that I travelled to 15 different countries, fought in a war, pushed my body past its limit more times than I can count, learned how to survive in almost any environment, and made friends that I may never see again but continue to hold a bond with that few can understand.