An Overview Summary of Basic Combat Training at Fort Knox

I'm not really sure an adequate “summary” of basic is possible given that I'd need many hours to type and would probably need to reference the hundred plus pages of letters that I mailed to friends. I hope my blog entry title didn't give you false hopes. You see, once I arrived at Officer Candidate School (OCS), Basic Combat Training (BCT) became a lot less interesting to remember. However, despite not having any readers frequenting this site, I did promise myself that I'd give at least some sort of summary of basic training before moving on to discuss OCS. And I shouldn't be too concerned about squashing false hopes. I don't have any rhinos, much less rhino meatloaf, in the first place!

Initially, I was dropped into a unit called “Reception Battalion” which specialized in demoralizing young people through boredom. Each day we'd wake early, clean the barracks... clean the barracks... clean some more... um, and then maybe submerge everything in bleach. Then a drill sergeant would arrive, find a speck of dust on a power cord to a ceiling light. We'd be yelled at; Our particular drill sergeant liked calling us a “bag of hammers”. Then we'd clean some more and go to bed for a few hours of needed sleep. Oh, and we also contracted diseases from each other. The supply office refused to issue us hand soap or hand towels, and when we stood in line, it was always “toe to heel”. That means no space in front of or behind you. Since I'm short, the person behind me would breathe and cough their diseases down the length of my body in a steady, demoralizing rhythm.

After nine or ten days, we front loaded our packs (that's when you place your pack on your front so you can sit on a bus. It's painful on the back, but really there's no way around the necessity when you need to use a bus), loaded a bus (where angry drill sergeants continuously screamed at us to bury our faces in our packs and not move), and arrived in a wonderful little welcome party which involved dumping our gear in piles, having it inspected, and packing it back up with much haste—all the while being yelled at for one thing or another. A couple young recruits cried when three drill sergeants would surround them at once and berate in unison. When they surrounded someone and yelled, it was always best to stare straight forward. If they walked in front of you or spoke to you, one would not refocus on them. One must never look at them directly, you see. They're like the Medusa in that way, but instead of turning you to stone, they give you pushups, insult your intelligence, or berate you in another creative way.

Deprivation was a significant segment of our training. Time to eat—especially in the first weeks—was very short. Sometimes we received only a couple minutes. We learned to wield a spoon in our right and a fork in our left; We learned to swallow first and imagine taste later. The worst deprivation occurred when food ran short and rations would be reduced for the last platoon or squad in the chow line. This was probably more demoralizing than debilitating, but I did lose 18 pounds. Since I was a normal weight before, I attribute some of this weight loss to lack of protein and the loss of some chest and arm muscles. (Losses were very significant at first, but once I was healthy, I gained muscle back for a net gain, I think). In addition to the diet, being sick for 5 out of 10 weeks had an impact as well. Sleep was, of course, also in short order. I think the average came out to 4 hours per night for the first half of basic. We got pretty clever and probably hit 5 or so by sleeping though our 1 hour of personal time (which wasn't even granted most the time in the first half of basic) by the end. Fire guard shifts (usually 1 hour per person on duty for the night) were frequent and didn't help the whole sleep deprivation thing. But then, that was probably part of the point.

You might be able to argue that we were socially deprived. During our time in basic, we received three brief phone calls. Much to our agony, we also were made to wait up to five days for mail call sometimes. Then again, we were always surrounded by dozens of other soldiers, so we were never far from socialization—even when we officially had no time to socialize. Once, during barracks maintenance, some soldiers managed to get a beat-boxing and break-dancing competition going. It was pretty impressive. Other soldiers used equipment packaging to make sets of dominoes, cards, and even dice! By graduation, there was a miniature gambling establishment being run out of a roommate's locker. The “owner” probably made $300 in profits.

Most drill sergeants did not seem to like the specialists unless they were going in as enlisted (rare). People suggested that it was entirely jealousy since commissioned officers technically oversee the entire enlisted army. (That's an incomplete explanation of how it works, but maybe I'll have time to explain it better in the future.) However, I am pretty sure most NCOs (non-commissioned officers; the enlisted leaders of the enlisted army; Drill sergeants are NCOs) gave us a hard time because we needed to grow the most. If an officer candidate isn't good enough to take the office, he or she had better not make it! Once, during land navigation, Drill Sergeant Pagona ordered me to separate from my team and spend my time covering every rock within eyesight in sand. I think he was looking for hesitation, disappointment, or frustration. I showed only immediate obedience. Inside my head... yeah, I was rolling my eyes... but I maintained my military bearing.

My favorite part of basic was the MOUT (pronounced “mount”; It stands for Moving Over Urban Terrain) training. It consisted of room clearing, and according to what I've learned since, my unit got some of the most extensive MOUT training ever done in basic training anywhere. We spent a good two weeks on room clearing, including two days of indoor paintball with weapons styled to look just like an M-40. Drill Sergeant Pagona has an incredible depth of knowledge in urban warfare. It's not just book knowledge either. He spent multiple deployments in Iraq as an infantryman. His knowledge is instinct and reactions instant. He doesn't accept poor performance because he knows that while entering a room, a one second delay extra might mean an entire team getting killed. He's had comrades die in his arms, and therefore laziness while training is personally repulsive to him.

I loved the obstacle courses. The first obstacle course was a teamwork course. You know... the type where you need a couple lightweight super tall skinny guys, two planks of wood, and a coil of rope. We had low ropes courses, high ropes courses, and physical conditioning courses. The best courses were the ones that utilized bayonets or grenades to clear obstacles. Some courses had live fire (as if we didn't have enough time on firing ranges already), and one course even included firing live rounds while in a convoy. The gas chamber was less fun since it made people choke and suffocate on CS gas. I quickly placed CS gas in the number one slot of my “Least Favorite Things To Breathe List”. It's right up there with bleach fumes. Bleach is an Army barracks favorite for cleaning everything. Everything.

My platoon was truly graced with phenomenal leadership. Drill Sergeant Pagona might be battle hardened and strict, but I learned great respect for him. In the last week, he told me to read the Ranger's Handbook. I was flattered because I knew a compliment from him when I saw one. You see, he was stating that he felt I could learn, and that's one of the highest compliments any of us recruits received in basic. Our platoon's head drill sergeant, Drill Sergeant Jarvis, also commanded great respect from his men. At one point the first sergeant and several drill sergeants collaborated to spark a rumor that war was starting with North Korea due to a DMZ breach. Our unit was supposedly put on notice for deployment as an invasion force since we were the only infantry battalion at Fort Knox in white phase. Some of the detail made the rumor a lot more believable than it may sound to the present reader, and I was present for a somber discussion between several of my comrades. They were discussing the impact of the alleged world events on their own lives and military careers. After a moment of silence, one of my battle buddies declared that he would go to war under Drill Sergeant Jarvis any day. Without pause, there was loud unanimous agreement. This, I believe, speaks for his character and leadership more than I could “speak” in my own writing.

The secret to surviving and enjoying basic is to remember that you're just being trained. The cadre (drill sergeants) probably don't really mean the various insults they make up. You're not stupid. Anyone would be confused by conflicting orders. In the real army, you'll be allowed a second and a half to pause before running to the correct spot. Basic is designed to make you endure stress. Strong people became a little weaker, and overweight people wound up more healthy. The idea isn't to send you to a physical fitness camp. The idea is to put you through battlefield-style stress, deprive you, and if you're stubborn, they will break you. Many of the young people just out of high school needed some behavior modification. By the end they were very obedient and agreeable. I didn't really need to be broken down because I was fine obeying for the sake of obeying (even when it didn't make sense) because I'm paid to do that in the Army.

I wrote a lot of letters! And more importantly, the many responses I received kept me quite happy and sane. I miss my friends when I don't have them around because friendship is one of the most important components to life. I miss Monday nights at Founder's with Bray and Mike. I miss brewing beer with Mike and Joe. I miss playing Tibia with Josh. I miss my kitchen (yes, probably almost as much as I miss my friends). However, I count myself fortunate. Some of the people in basic have girlfriends (which would have made me lonely if I'd had one to miss myself), some have wives (can't imagine missing a wife for so long), and worst, some had babies born while they trained. Two guys in my platoon didn't even know their girlfriends were pregnant before they left for the Army.

There. I summarized, albeit in brief. If I add anything, I'll add it below this paragraph and annotate it properly as an addendum.