I am a military enthusiast with 6 1/2 weeks of military service. Yep. You read that right, 6 1/2 weeks. I joined the United States Marine Corps in early 1990 and headed off to Parris Island in May of that year. Halfway through basic training one of my drill instructors saw me behind my bunk with my hand pressed against my stomach and he ordered me off to sick call the next day. From there I was sent off to the hospital for further tests and they came back positive for ulcers. USMC policy is an automatic discharge if you develop an ulcer within 180 days of enlistment (or at least it was back then, do not know about it today). Unfortunately by the time I was fully clear of ulcers my life had changed enough that re-enlisting was not at the top of my list. Oh well, such is life. At least I can look myself in the mirror and say with truth that I did not quit. And looking back upon it I can say that I enjoyed my time in Basic quite a bit.
There were two bright points with my discharge. The first was after the doctor gave me the news. The doctor was a psychiatrist and when he told me I was being sent home I actually started to cry, so he left me alone in the office for a few minutes. He did not shut the door all the way and some dumb-ass drill instructor happened by, saw me crying, and decided to be a dick. So he started in on me being a cry baby. I turned around, stared him right in the eye, and then started to smile. He was about to go off on me for staring him in the eye when he realized why I was smiling. The doctor, a major, had come up behind him! That was a dressing down that I will never forget as long as I live or until dementia sets in!
The other bright point was watching one of my drill instructors, Drill Instructor Sergeant Cathey, punch in the door of his wall locker and here him mutter about losing a "top recruit" while being unable to get rid of a "lazy f**ker" who did not want to be there.
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