Best Drill Instructor/Drill Sergeant stories

Had a great DI for our platoon. He was from the Old Guard. We got along great as I like all the shinny boots and drill and ceremony stuff. Made me the guide on. However at the end of the first week one of the DI's from another platoon got liquored up one night. He pulled the fire alarm and went out in front of the barracks yelling that he was going to kick all our asses. I had some guys sneak up behind him as I went outside to confront him. We got a blanket over him and got him squared away to say and shoved him into one the mop closets. MP's and fire show up as well as the NCO on duty and the company commander who was a CPT. MP's are asking questions about what was going on. Being new to the Army I wasn't sure what to say. I simply say that the fire alarm was pulled and that I'm not sure who did it. Then I start making crazy eyes at the NCO. CO leaves as well as MP's and fire but the NCO sticks around. He asks me what the hell is really going on. I take him to the closet open the door and show him Sargent Hank the Tank who was now passed out. Needless to say the CO as well as the other NCO's took a liking to me. CO took my ruck on a couple of the road marches we had as well as my own DI. Welcome to the Army.

So there I was, there I was, at good old MCRD San Diego...

First the back story,
Pt 1. I had been a Cross-Country runner & distance guy on the Track and went to MEPS with a bag of groceries having literally been put on the bus by my Recruiter after a big Red Lobster meal and instructions to not dare piss or shit until after they weighed me in or they'd never ship me. - This meant after about the first week when one of the DI's actually saw me they made me a Double Rations Private. I'd leave the Platoon and go eat, eat again while they were there and occasionally would be told where they were going and to meet them after stuffing myself on a third round.
Back story Pt 2. Our Series Commander 1st Lt G.D. Brown was my doppelganger, no , for reals, you couldn't tell us apart without the rank insignia. At the time of my story he was still a 2nd Lt.

SDI SSgt Ryan was having a great time on the Drill deck instilling Attention to Detail and Immediate Response to commands when, having finished my expansive repast, I strolled ever so exuberantly(and in a military fashion) to rejoin the Platoon and take part in some Excellent Instruction in the Art of Drill.
Unbeknownst to me Lt. Brown had also decided to look in on the Platoon and was approaching from 180 degrees relative to me.
SDI SSgt Ryan could not apparently make out the distinctive rank insignia of 2nd Lt. Brown (Butter bars had an uncanny way of disappearing into Woodland Camo) and had to make a choice.
So he halted the Platoon, executed the most perfect about face I have ever been privileged to see and rendered an exemplary Salute to a certain Double-Rats Private, just as Lt. Brown came around the end of the Platoon.
Have I mentioned that my name is Strong...
I think I still have residual strength from that evolution all these years later....

My drill sergeant told my company that if we all passed on the rifle range in the first tyr he would take us all to the Burger King on the post. We all passed.

He called us to formation and marched us all the way across Ft. Leonard wood to the Burger King. In the parking lot he called us to parade rest and gave us a congratulatory speech. When he finished his speech he called us to attention, left face, and forward march. There was murmuring all through the ranks.

He called us to a halt and asked why we were so loud. We reminded him that he promised to take us to Burger King if we all passed at the rifle range.

He said, "Well I did. I did take you to Burger Kind, didn't you see it. Now lets double time so you all can get back to the mess hall for chow! FORWARD MARCH!"

That was so cold.

I joined the army with NO intentions of being a super troop. None of my family inspired me to achieve in the service, and I had no friends who joined and could tell me what it was like. I showed up to basic like, is it over yet?

My Drill Sergeant (No Mr. Sexton), led "A" group on a run. So there I was, little PVT Adame, dogging it in back of the formation. As Sexton came around he looked me dead in the eyes, down into my soul and said, "If you can't hang with the big dog, stay your assistance on the porch!"

If anything has shaped my career, it was that moment. No yelling, no amount of push ups, nothing... just the thought that I couldn't hang with the likes of that man propelled me to a level of pride and fervent desire to be the best I could be. No amount of clever jokes and outrageous myths could compare to what the Drill Sergeant did. My career goal since that moment was to be a Drill Sergeant. Though there have been some obstecles, I will be in a position to give a soldier what he gave to me. Purpose, direction, and motivation at the highest level.

How about, we are all sitting Indian Style on Quarter Deck (front training area of the squad bay for all the non-USMC types). We were being given a period of instruction on what to do in the event of "witnessing a nuclear blast" By that I mean observing. So, the Drill Instructor told us that we were to drop to the ground, helmet toward blast, rifle across chest, cover up with poncho, wait 30 or so minutes, then get up and fight.

So, having read a few books, and watched a few movies, it was my understanding (remember what happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki) that the blast was so powerful that it would essentially make a photographic outline of a body on a wall. So, I raised the old hand, and the Drill Instructor looked at me and said "What Recruit?" I responded with my question. He responded with "If you witness a nuclear blast, you will do what I F*cking told you to do!""Now Begin". So I began a lengthy regiment of calisthenics, and learned that what was written in the book was correct, and I was not..........NO MORE QUESTIONS. Really made Boot Camp much easier.

This one is probably different than all the others posted, I went through Basic, AIT, Airborne, and Pathfinder all very early on in my career. While I was in Pathfinder school I ran into two of my Drill Sergeants from B Co 1/38th, Ft Benning. One of them realized that I had a lot of info from my unit and started asking me questions about landing zones. As a result the three of us started a study group for the three weeks of training.

After I completed the final field exercise one of my classmates said to me, "just because you passed pathfinder school, doesn't mean you're on our level". In contrast, during the "graduation ceremony" the two Drill Sergeants flanked me, one on my left and one on my right (thats port and starboard for you nautical folks). The basic training battalion commander attended the graduation to pin the wings on his Drill Sergeants and they made a point to say "These are the kind of troops that we're producing down in Bravo Company".

While I have come across some bad DI's, there are far more DI's that are committed to training the future of the armed services.

My story was in June 1975, just a few days after I joined the Army. I almost literally bumped into a Drill Sergeant in a warehouse (I had been sent to get something). The DS asked me what I was doing. I explained and finished my response with "Sergeant." Well, he asked me if I knew his rank and why I didn't use it when addressing him. I was brand new, but I kind of guessed (he was an E-7), and I answered "Platoon Sergeant." He said, "I'm a Drill Sergeant, trainee!" And then I did pushups.

From the “Drill Sergeants will never hit you” phase..
we’re in formation one morning, and this one particular hard headed DS is walking through our platoon, generally making life miserable. And he had this one kid he liked to pick on. Some big, corn fed, muscle bound Goober from Indiana. (He was actually a nice kid, turned out to be a good soldier).

DS decided that this morning would be the day he took it to 11. I was behind Goober in formation. The DS got in PFC Goobers face, directly. And brimmed him with bad intentions. Twice. And snarking asked, “you like that?”

Goober really didn’t talk much, and very calmly replied, “no Drill Sergeant, I didn’t.” And as the DS started to move on the the next joe, Goober chimed up, “And you can yell at me all day, but if you ever touch me again, I WILL f*ck you up.”

We all just about swallowed our tongues while the DS did an about face and walked right up to him, about 5 inches away. He had that “should I or shouldn’t I” look on his face. He decided he should, and poked his brim squarely into Goobers nose. Bad choice, because in about 4 seconds, Goober had boxed him up with 3 or 4 clean shots, taken him down, and locked in a rear naked.

Half the platoon froze. About a quarter were screaming “fight!” Like it was high school. Me and the soldier beside me jumped in and it took both of us to get him to release his grip. The two that went inside to get another DS, all we hear is them screaming from inside the hallway, “you don’t understand, PFC Goober is killing him!!!”

By the time they got outside, we had pried Goober off of him. Me and my pal were reviving the DS back to consciousness, making him drink from our 2qt, getting his blood flow back. The Drill Sergeants asked him what happened first. Fully expecting him to lie, I was amazed when something to the nature of, “he told me if I hit him again, he’d fuck me up. He wasn’t kidding.”

He didn’t seem too pissed, but after that day, he left the company, and we never saw him again. (The DS)

Laying on the top rack before we were supposed to get our first rest in many moons. The dumbass to my left waited until the scout sniper kill hat waited to go inside his chamber. Then started eating peanut butter packets talking about how dumb the drill instructors were. While in mid sentence kill hat pops up next to his rack and says "thought I was gone didn't you?" "Now who is stupid stupid?" The following hours consisted of much pain.

I have a few. Here's one that comes to mind. I should mention that I enlisted at 150lbs, at 6 foot 3. So, for me every calorie counted. Basic training in my experience was just a weight loss camp, and I didn't need to loose an ounce. I don't know if the Drill Sergeants didn't notice it right away, or if they were letting me get by with it because of how skinny I was, but I would take my piece of bread, and the sugar container that sat on the table and generously layer that bread with sugar, as we were not allowed to pick up butter or jam or anything on the way through the chow line. I'd fold this in half and inhale it more or less. So, I'm eating as fast as I can, looking straight ahead, when out of the corner I see a Drill Sergeant approaching. She sits down on the table right next to my plate, takes the sugar out of my hand, and dumps it on the bread until it's about an inch thick. The corners of the bread are all that isn't buried. "Eat, private." I hesitate a second. "Eat, private. Sugar is good, private." I picked the thing up and ate it, and she walked away.