Best Drill Instructor/Drill Sergeant stories

I cant say i had it to hard in basic lol. My main DI was from the same home town in Nebraska and it was his last rotation before he went back to being a Cav Scout.

I had a fellow trainee in my flight who liked to doodle and draw in a personal note book he kept in he drawer. One day when we were doing drawer inspe tions the one MTI found thr trainee's notebook. Found.SkEtch of the other MTI and called him out on it. It was hilarious. A couple days later at chow abother trainee spilled gatorade and the notebook trainee was sitting at the tavlw and the original MTI saw if happen and asked the drawer if he was goingtto put that on his sketchbook. I almost choked onmmy food laughing.

I was in AIT at the Military Police School at Fort Gordon, GA in 1974. Co-Ed AIT was still a fairly new occurrence in the Army. I was going to be the Honor Graduate but was not going to be promoted. Two far inferior students academically were being promoted, both female. The promotion was their payoff for sleeping with the two Drill Sergeants. I went to the Company Commander and SHE took care of it. Both DS were court martialed, the women were offered the choice of discharge or another MOS, and I was promoted to Private First Class.

After a LONG week at Reception, we finally arrived at our barracks for boot camp. Ya'll know what that's like so I'll skip over that. After we formed up in our new platoons, we were commanded to "look to your right and look to your left. Remember your buddies to your right and left. When you file in formation, make sure you are next to the right individuals." Or something to that effect. That night, my very first night at boot camp, we had a fire drill around 0100 hours and it was cold. This guy tried to shove me out of my position but I didn't budge. I knew I was in the right spot. I didn't know what his problem was. That is until the Drill says "Look to your right! Now, look to your left. If you are in the wrong place, raise your hand." Gulp! That would be me! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I was the dumb one!! So, my Drill gets in my face and lovingly says, "You. Are. A. Retarded. Monkey. What do you thing about that?!" "Yes, Drill Sergeant." Then he proceeded to notify me, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to work for him that night. And I did. I don't remember now how many M-40 Gas Masks I assembled that night but it lasted until 0500, when I had to execute the three S's of military life and begin my first PT session. Good times! ;)

1979 MEPS to Ft. Jackson on a train. At Ft. Jackson we were issued uniforms, got shots etc. Oh yea we got haircuts too, but I didn't. I took a razor to my head a couple days before in a drunken bout of motivation. I paid for that by doing pushups while everyone was getting haircuts.
From there, we bused to Ft Benning and arrived 0300ish at Harmony Church. The DI's boarded the bus screaming a good morning and throwing some of us off the bus. The moment we hit pavement we were doing 2hr smoke session and some were puking.

DI's finally let us take a piss break and said we have 3 minutes. There was nothing but A&E running into the WW2 barracks bathroom with open urinals and shitters. Upon seeing this, I had a short-lived culture shock expecting privacy in the privy. I had to shit real bad, everyone was peeing in the shitters and urinals. Once it was my turn, I wiped the toilet seat and did my thing while 2 dongs were peeing in the shitters besides me LOL. I'm thinking to my self "this shit is fucked up."
Before I knew it every one is gone and it's quiet, so I take a well deserved deep breath and continue to grunt it out. Soon after, I heard a commotion outside. The DI's were all screaming that someone is missing... a couple of seconds later I hear heavy, rapid footsteps stomp into the barracks and into the bathroom. A DI screams he found me, leans into my face and shouts unrelenting profanities at me while I start wiping myself. Just like that, like flies on shit 2 more DI's charge in. Now I have 3 DI's inches from my face screaming to get the bleep out and into formation all while I'm trying to do a good job wiping my ass(on a forever wipe).
I paid a price for "takin my sweet time." For all of Basic, I was in charge of cleaning the shitter. The platoon had to do another smoke session for leaving me behind, while I watched.
To this day I keep my bathrooms clean to the Army standard.

OSUT, Fort Benning GA, Septemper 1997. Day before graduation. A battle buddy and I were sent down to 30 AG for some detail or other. Reception Drill is pretty cool and laid back - we were there as Privates, not as maggots. We are in the main entrance lobby, laying out info packets for anbound busload, when Drill calls us over and asked us if we were ready. We were wondering what he was talking about and hadn't even answered yet when his entire demeanor changed. He was 4 inches taller, his boots were shinier, somehow starch had worked its way INTO his uniform. Then we saw that the bus was there. He proceeded to smoke the shit out of us for show. We figured it out real quick - I have never sounded off so loud or so proud (Mailed Foot, Drill Sergeant, Mailed Foot!). Battle and I had huge grins the entire time because we were in on the show.

After the bus of recruits shuffled through the lobby to wherever they were going, we recovered and Drill just started cracking up and so did we. We finished our duties and hiked back up to Sand Hill. Good Times.

December 1983, last week or two of basic training at Ft. Dix, NJ.
Drill Sgt. "Van" (an Airborne Ranger) came onto the floor around midnight, clearly drunk off his a$$, and proceeded to inform us about the circumstances leading to his limp. He was shot in the leg in the DMZ, and was left behind, separated from his patrol, he crawled back to safety unable to walk. His advice to his recruits, nearly graduated? "Remember men, "buddy" is only half a word. "

First, a bit of background. I had always wanted to serve in the military, but Congress has had many rules regarding females in the military. First, if you were married, you couldn't serve; then, you could be married, but not have children; then it was could be married, have children, but if you got pregnant, you would be discharged. Finally in 1976, you could be married, have children, and have children while in service, and stay in - they had finally caught up to where I was in my life! So I enlisted, expecting to have a 20 year career. This was also during the time when we had a WAC (2 years later the Corps was disbanded and we suddenly became "enlisted personnel") On the second day of Basic at Ft. McClellan, our DS had us write out a synopsis of our lives so that she could get to know us and where we were from and our background, so I laid out the pertinent details (bad move on my part - I just wanted to serve) - age 28, married, children, Bs Ed degree, taught jr high and high school, airline recruiter, etc. Suddenly, I am the platoon assistant in charge of getting 39 other gals (mostly 18 and 19 year olds) up and ready for the day, checking the schedule for activities and uniform of the day, etc. - basically "mother hen" - oh JUST what I wanted (sarcasm intended!). Anyhow, my DS was exceptional. She never, ever yelled at us. Her voice was loud enough that we all could hear, but not yelling or belittling. If there was a problem, she stood toe-to-toe with the offender and spoke quietly so no one else could hear. Now, don't get me wrong - we all suffered the punishment for the infraction, but it was more dignified.

Now the incident - I have everyone up and out on the quad and we were running PT and I was calling cadence rather loudly (which I had learned by this time). The third time around the quad, I hear a VERY loud order "Platoon, HALT!" This was coming from a third floor window of our barracks. I had never seen this DS in anything but immaculate uniforms, "breaking starch" at least twice a day, never a hair out of place, never saw her sweat in the Alabama heat, Campaign Cover on at just the right angle , could quote chapter and verse of every pertinent regulation- just perfection! Now leaning out the window looking out at me is this 24 year old E-5 DS wearing a robe and curlers in her hair. The exchange went something like this: DS: "PFC Culp (my former married name), what are you doing?" Me: "Running PT, Drill Sergeant." DS: "Why are you running PT?" Me: "It's on the training schedule, Drill Sergeant". DS: "Are you sure, PFC Culp?" Me: "I will verify, Drill Sergeant." So I put the platoon at parade rest and run up 3 flights of stairs to check the schedule, and back down. Still leaning out the window she says "Well, is PT posted for today?" Me: "No, Drill Sergeant" - (massive groans from the whole platoon). DS: "What day is this, PFC Culp?" Me: "It's Sunday, Drill Sergeant." DS: "And what does the schedule say for Sunday?" Me: "Church is scheduled until noon chow". DS: "Well then, I suggest you get your butts back in the bay and let your troops go to church." More moans and grumbles about having been able to sleep in for just one day and me getting then up to run PT. DS figured I didn't need extra punishment, since the whole platoon was "punished" by my reading the schedule incorrectly, and were punishing me in their own way. It never happened again! Just strange to see this "perfect" DS was actually a human being after all! I really did enjoy Basic. My Army service was some of the best years of my life. Given the chance, I'd do it all over again.

When I was in Basic (Air Force) my lead TI motivated me to go beyond my limitations (self imposed) and achieve more that I thought was possible. That was in August through September of 1970. His outlook still inspires me today.

I went through boot camp at MCRD San Diego in the fall of 1964. After we qualified at the range .. the DI allowed those of us who qualified to make a phone call home. He broke us into fire teams to march to the PX to place our one call. As each of us finished we stood in formation waiting to march back to our platoon. In doing so, the fire team leader took upon himself to light the smoking lamp.
About the time we lit up .. the OD stopped by and asked: "who lit the smoking lamp & what was our platoon number?"

Upon our return, our DI was furious as the word traveled fast from the OD. The DI crammed the platoon into a Quonset hut and made my fire team stand in front. He then asked for five non-filter ed cigarettes to be placed into the lips of each of us. Of course, there were many volunteers who gave up their smokes. We each placed the five cigs in our lips as the DI placed metal buckets over our heads. He then lit the cigs and told us to inhale quickly as he beat on our buckets with a nightstick. This my fellow Marines was far worse than the dreaded gas chamber. Snot and saliva streamed down our faces. So, after puking he said ... "alright girls .. who has five filtered cigarettes for each?" Again .. my fellow recruits were practically throwing filtered cigs at us. I'm sure you get the picture as to the final result. More puking and total laughter at our appearance and green faces. I can feel that sensation even today 55 years later. Semper Fi.