The bus took us north, out of San Diego, and up along the coast to Camp Pendleton. Edson Range is where recruits learn to shoot the Marine Corps way. We were taught by a Primary Marksmanship Instructor (PMI) rather than by our Drill Instructors. He taught us all about sight alignment, sight picture, and how to breathe when shooting. We spent a lot of time the first week on the range, spread out in a circle around a white barrel with small targets painted on it. This was to teach proper body posture, and to get used to the trigger pull. We also had a session of familiarization firing, or "fam fire" (not for score, just to learn how to do it) with the 9mm pistol. At the end of the first week, we fired at the 25 meter range to get our basic zero set on our rifles. My rear aperture was pretty much okay, but I had to take the front sight tip down 29 clicks, almost as far as it would go. The entire second week was spent firing live rounds on the range. Each shot is recorded in a booklet, so the PMI and DIs can look at it later and tell you what you are doing wrong (ex: high and low shots in relation to the bulls-eye indicate a breathing problem, while left and right shots indicate trigger pull flaws.) I had one memorable moment with the DIs during this week. I was sitting back behind the firing line, waiting for my turn. The sun was up, the birds were chirping, M-16s were going off every couple seconds. I was checking out my flash reducer on the tip of my rifle barrel, just kinda grooving on the scene. It was all very Marine Corps-ish. I happened to look up, and SSgt Klingman was watching me, and I think I smiled at him. He narrowed his eyes (which made the brim of his cover drop) and he said, "Whatteryoulookinat?" I quickly looked away, but I'm betting he smiled, too.
We spent a lot of time with Sgt Stroebel in Second Phase, and I'm not sure why, but it wasn't a lot of fun. We rarely had all four DIs during this time. He had us doing a lot of pullups. We would line up behind the pullup bars and when it was our turn we would do pullups to the point of muscle fatigue, then get in the back of the line and work our way forward and do it again.
We had our first "hump" at the range. A recruit in the chowhall told us to be sure to walk in the ocean during the beach hike. I NEVER got the salt out of my boots after that hike. I soaped them and soaped them, but every time I put on a coat of polish after that, the salt came up through it after a little while, and eventually I threw them away. I could have choked that recruit.
Sgt Jones took SSgt Klingman skydiving on a Sunday during Second Phase. He was so moved by the experience, when he came in Monday morning, he couldn't be mean to us, no matter how hard he tried. He was marching the platoon from one place to another, and told us all about it. He had a smile on his face all day. He also marched us through the parking lot just to show us his car, a TR-7. SSgt Klingman and Sgt Jones got along really well. The night before we loaded up and moved "up north" to the 52 area, they went out drinking together, and came back to the squadbay at about 0300, still drunk. They bent and thrust the firewatch, and went to bed, and left the firewatch bending and thrusting. After a while, one of them came out of the duty hut and asked the firewatch what the hell they were doing, and then told them to knock it off. Later, in Third Phase, just before graduation, we told them about it and they didn't even remember it. They thought we were pulling their leg until we insisted it really happened. Another strange thing that happened at night was that our Guide started sleepwalking. He would get up and start yelling stuff in his sleep. I guess the stress was getting to him.
For some reason I almost completely lost my appetite in Second Phase. One morning I threw up my breakfast after we got back to the squadbay. We had a urinalysis test that afternoon, and of course, the one person who couldn't give up his pee was, you guessed it, me. So, SSgt Klingman took me in the head with my canteen and had me drink canteen after canteen of water, I actually felt the water halfway up my esophagus. Suddenly, I knew I was going to throw up again, and all that water came right back out. SSgt Klingman went into the duty hut; a minute later I was called in. Someone apparently told them I had been sick that morning, and they asked me about it. They sent me away, and left me alone. I don't remember if I ever did take the urinalysis test or not.
A couple recruits thought they would be slick and snuck a couple boxes of cereal out of the chowhall, to eat while they pulled targets in the butts. Sgt Jones was slicker, though. He took off his DI cover and had a recruit give him his sweatshirt, so he looked like just another recruit, and roamed the butts, and caught them. They had a fun time doing mountain climbers in the impact areas, facing downhill, during breaks in firing.
My platoon took the range competition, with the most recruits firing Expert. I was one of them, to the surprise of Sgt Jones. One time we were sitting in front of him on the quarterdeck while he looked at our booklets. He asked who had previous hunting experience, and I raised my hand. He rolled his eyes and told me to give him my booklet. He looked at my scores and shook his head and said, "Diehl, I am actually impressed.", which made me feel pretty good. He was really hard to please.
After the week of shooting, we had a week of Mess and Maintenance. Some platoons from the Series went back to MCRD to do grounds maintenance and work in the chowhall, some stayed at the range and did the same thing, and a few went up to the 52 Area to work in the chowhall up there. As the winning platoon, we were not supposed to have chowhall duty, but we were the Fall platoons, with not so many recruits and some of us, including me, had to do it. I was made the Scullery Chief, washing all the plates and dishes that were used. I had a dark green recruit working for me, who stood by the window where you dropped off your plate and silverware on the way out of the chowhall, and he would chant, "Knives forks spoons, Private, Doyt, doyt, doyt". I have no idea what "doyt" meant, but he kept saying it. He was a little weird. Come to think about it, did some sleepwalking, too.
Some of the guys from my platoon worked on the range, and one worked in the Armory. The Armorer taught him how to really clean and M-16. Sgt Jones challenged us to show him a really clean rifle, with the punishment for him finding any dirt at all being a trip to the "pit". That recruit took him up on the challenge, and did not get a pit visit out of it.
We got to call home during Mess and Maintenance Week. I managed to talk to my Mom and Dad for just a few minutes, and when I got back to the barracks I sat down between my rack and the next and cried. Private Lane, a tall dark green recruit from Baton Rouge, LA came over and consoled me. I ran into Lane a couple times over the next few years, one of the few Marines from my platoon I ever saw after bootcamp.
After Mess and Maintenance Week was over, we stuffed ourselves like sardines into cattlecars, and rode up into the mountains of northern Camp Pendleton to the 52 Area. We were issued our 782 gear, and spent the week in the field. During this time we went through the gas chamber, threw grenades, crawled through simulated battlefields, shot at targets, and did a lot of humping. I think we were one of the first platoons to eat MREs, or at least the first time the DIs encountered Meals Ready to Eat (MREs). They were very concerned about us having the gum; we had to surrender that right away. My first MRE was "Frankfurters and Beans", not that good cold, but certainly good enough when you are a hungry recruit. A couple guys in my platoon had freeze-dried strawberries, but found worms in them. I guess that was a problem when the MREs first came out. Strawberries came back a few years later.
Probably the neatest thing we did in Field Week was the night fire. Several recruits, myself included, got to demonstrate. Every round we fired was a tracer, and we had additional fire from mortars and machineguns (fired by our Drill Instructors). When you shoot a tracer, all you see from your end of the rifle is a little spark jump out. When you stand to the side, you see long streaks of red light. It was awesome to see, and gave me a much better appreciation for ricochets. There were streaks of light going all over the place after they hit the ground. Some would go up, some would go to the side, some would go straight up and then spiral to the ground.
I went through bootcamp before The Crucible was instituted, but we still humped Mount Mother F*cker. That damn hill goes on forever. It has a couple plateaus part way up, so you think you are on the top, but then you see the rest of the it, and have to keep climbing. Plus we did it at night, so it wasn't easy to see what what going on. The next morning we looked at it and couldn't believe we had humped over it. The first few humps, I stayed in my place in the formation. It was horrible. The Series kept yo-yoing, stretching out and then snapping back. Up at the front, you have a fairly steady pace, while the end winds up alternately crawling along and then sprinting to keep up. I finally got tired of it during the hump over Mount MF, and started passing people. I wound up with Sgt Jones and a block of about 30 recruits at the head of the column, stepping along at a nice even pace up the hill. Sgt Jones was impressed I made it up there, which, again, made me feel pretty good about myself.
Field Week came to a close. We came back to the barracks, got cleaned up, cleaned up our 782 gear and turned it in, and got back on the buses and returned to MCRD San Diego for Third Phase.
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