Best Drill Instructor/Drill Sergeant stories

I went to RTC Orlando in the beginning of 1991. On our controlled liberty, we went to Universal Studios. On one of tours or shows or whatever, the guy wanting volunteers asked, "Who is the most senior military person in the room" I raised my arm and pointed, "MM1 STEADMAN IS!!" and I think I got mashed a little extra that night, since he suddenly had to go up on stage and be part of this show. We all (the rest of us in the crowd) thought it was hilarious, though.

LOL!

I was stationed in what was then West Germany, and I was the only PVT E2 with a set of Dress Blues. Needless to say the number of times I was saluted by NCO's and even a couple of Butter bars would take several pages. My First Sergeant during a pre-IG Inspection along with the Company Commander 1LT Baker told me to hide my Dress Blues at the Dry Cleaners as it might be a bit difficult to explain to the IG how a PVT E2 could afford them when several of the more Senior NCO's in the Company who lived in the Barracks could not. I did as requested, and needless to say more then a few senior NCO's never forgot it.

In 1964 corporal Rudy was one of my drill instructors, Staff Sgt. Clausen was the senior instructor. ( Platoon 338 R) We were several weeks into training and I had seen what they would call physical violence today. I was careful not to draw the ire of the DI. One Sunday when they rushed us to run o/s and get our clothes off the line, I grabbed mine but left one skivvy drawer behind. Afterward, there was a stack of clothing left. He sent someone to bring them in as he yelled and ranted about how stupid we were and lower than whale shit in the deepest ocean. There were about 80 of us waiting for the end of life as we knew it. In the pile, he grabs one article of clothing, mine. I knew he was going to hit me as he usually hit someone. ( always in the stomach) I ran up, stood at the position of attention waiting. He looked around screaming over and over about how much we were useless and would die in combat for stupidity. I had prepared by tightening my stomach muscles so when he hit, I went back one step and returned to the position of attention. I believe I was the first to ever anticipate being hit as the look on his face was (now, not then) priceless. He threw everything at me and told me to get out.

I was a medical hold-over and was waiting for a Medical officer to approve my movement to Ft Lee, Va, the 1SG and Drill Sgt’s would hide me when the Bn came around locking for a detail. The Training Bn behind us had their Mess Hall close down for a day and our Mess had to reopen. Our Bn had to provide servers for the lunch meal, according to my 1SG, then he added that since I was going to Ft Lee, the Medical officer who approved my movement stated with a broken foot wouldn’t effect my training at Ft Lee, as I would be sitting in a classroom and wouldn’t be doing any marching. Then 1SG added if I missed movement, he wouldn’t miss me.
I reported to the Mess Hall, and took my place behind the counter. The Mess Stewart came up to me and asked what unit I belonged to, so I told him. Looking at me, the Mess Stewart said that he didn’t recall me ever being on KP. Well I didn’t pull KP during basic, I got over looked and a couple of soldiers pulled the duty four times. After saying that, he told me he was putting me on KP. Just then one of my Drill Sgts came through the line and I told him what the Mess Stewart was going to do. The Drill looked at me and asked, didn’t 1SG say you were shipping tonight. Yes, Drill Sgt and he said if I missed movement, he wasn’t going to miss me. Suddenly the Mess Stewart asked if my 1SG had threatened me. No, all he said if I missed movement, he wasn’t going to worry about me.
The Mess Stewart looked at the Drill Sgt and said, I’ll make sure this Pvt gets off in time to meet his bus. The Drill smiled and I’ll find out this shipment time, and said don’t worry.
A few seconds later the 1SG came in told me to get from behind the chow line, my movement time had changed. Who’s going to take his place the Mess Stewart asked. I don’t know and I don’t care, all I know is this boy is shipping to Ft Lee in an hour. As we exited the Mess Hall, I started to run towards the Orderly Room. Where you going stud? The 1SG asked. To get my gear, 1SG. You’re ship time hasn’t changed, and no one puts any of my soldiers on detail with talking to me or your Drill Sgt’s first. When we got up to the Orderly Room, there stood my Drill Sgt, who wasn’t happy, looked at me and told me to go and get in her car, as we were going to disappear for awhile.
For the first time since arriving to Basic, I was able to leave post and enjoyed my first non-Army meal. When we came back on post the Drill Sgt said now remember one thing—I interjected not to miss movement as you will not be missing me. The Drill Sgt laughed and said, you military brats are something else.

Parris Island, S.C., Marine Corps Depot, Outside 2nd Battalion Chow Hall, November 1975, 18 years old. I was the 2nd Squad Leader. All Squad Leaders were required to finish chow before the platoon and get outside in formation, with our "Red Monsters" (Marine Corps Handbook) displayed in front of our eyes and not looking anywhere else. I could hear whistling in the distance. It grew louder. It was a familiar song, "Bridge Over the River Kawi." I could soon see out of the corner of my eye, the entire 4th Battalion of Women Marines, (All Female Marines forgive me, that was the correct terminology in 1975), marching toward me whistling the tune. I started to smile real big (possibly laughed), not at the women, but how each female recruit looked identical and maybe because they were the first females I had seen in months. All in the same uniform, (blue slacks, light blue blouse) and the biggest puckered, red lips I had ever seen, whistling the tune, which by the way was in tune and in unison. By the way, male 1st Phase Recruits in 1975, were related to "Joe Sh_t the Rag Man" because we couldn't starch our uniforms or covers (hats) or blouse our boots. We were referred to as a "Thundering Herd," or "Mob" until we acquired the art of marching together. It's a ritual and rite of passage to gain privileges later in 2nd and 3rd Phase of training. Well, my smile didn't last for long. I had a Marine Drill Instructor in my left ear, who had gone undetected from my six, reading me the riot act. Wouldn't have been so bad, but it was a female Marine Drill Instructor. She was a Staff Sergeant and was stealthy. She could have been a Scout Sniper. She tore me a "new three bedroom, two bath, double-wide A-hole," without ever taken a breath. It was all I could do to wipe the smile off of my face, but somehow I did. Our Senior Drill Instructor, Staff Sergeant Carlton, (known to some of the recruits as Sgt. Carter because they got too nervous to say his name right), saw what was going on and immediately came to join in or rescue me. She opened up on him. He listened until she was through and then told her he would handle it. God, at that point I thought I was dead. Just recycle me or send me to the brig to rot. Surprising, the Senior took pity on me and offered up a smile. He said, "Don't worry about it, Peach," my nickname for the rest of boot camp, since I was from Georgia. The Senior was too. He was laughing as he walked away! From that point on in my career, I never said anything to or smiled at a Female Marine without the utmost respect.

I got 2

First, we had a female TI and we couldn’t match for $*it with her. She pulled our squad leaders in and ripped into them asking why. One of the morons said some of the guys have trouble taking orders from a female. By lunch they had every Female TI on the base in our mess hall. Was not a pleasant meal.

2nd, was final dorm inspection. Out TI came in ranting giving us the last instructions for the inspection acting all pissy and loud saying the place better be spotless or he’s washing us all back. On his way out he placed a dime on the door frame above the door. Too bad our house mouse saw him. He went around and collected 10 pennies and replaced the dime. We did well on the inspection and he started yelling as he was leaving throwing the door open saying, but I bet you didn’t get up here and ran his fingers across the door frame tink, tink, tink. He shut up mid-sentence and keep walking.

I remember when I was in basic training 1981, cold as heck in fort fix in January. You know all the beds and racks had to be made before formation at 0530. The drill instructor was huge about 6’8 will over 300 pounds kind of a Hawaiian, scream and yell get outside in formation while I check my house( check to see if everything was clean). Well, while we was all out in formation at attention in 10 degree weather waiting for the results before chow.. there was this huge crash and he opened the second window(if anybody been to six you know how the barracks are) he was forcing a bed rack out of the window. The bed rack hit the ground, everything was wondering whose rack it was. He came and stood at the door hands on his hips screaming everyone needs to run back and see how bed this is. We all ran back, I was hoping it wasn’t mine just like everyone else. When the person found out that it was his bed. OMG, he made the soldier make the correctly outside in the cold 10 degree weather.brrrrrrrrr

Note: Have been advised by counsel, that in light of the current PC culture probably should not be telling war stories on drill sergeants encountered during my first days in the army. Such reminiscing may result in the drill sergeants being dug up and hung after a ‘fair trial’, while my fellow trainees and I may be thrown in the stockade (OH! Pardon the hell out of me, I meant the ‘correctional facility’) for just being there! Soldier/Cop/Grunt, Retired

During one of my AIT’s (I had four) I had the misfortune of having a roommate who literally looked & sounded like a real life Elmer Fudd from the Looney Toons/Bugs Bunny cartoons. Naturally most people made fun of him when the DS’s weren’t within earshot. This went on a couple of weeks until he snapped. Someone had lied to him and said I was the one telling them to treat them like that (I was actually defending him since I had been done the same way growing up), so he decided to urinate inside my inspection boots a day or two before the big command inspection for our cycle. I came in that afternoon to find my previously highly shined black boots had turned white (from the salt in his urine). I freaked out and reported it to the DS’s. They came and looked at the boots, confirmed they were ruined and got someone to tell them that “PVT Fudd” as he was called had admitted to doing it. He was ordered to buy me a replacement pair, but didn’t have the money to since he had to buy himself a pair. So the DS went with me to the PX and bought me not only a new pair, but a pair of already shined Corcoran boots. I offered to pay him back, but he refused. He said he was supposed to buy himself a new pair anyway, but had bought them before his allowance came in so I was actually helping him out. I said thank you and we went on about training (except Elmer. He got in a lot of trouble and was kicked out before graduation).