The Daily Detour

Letters from the Front: Still hanging on

I got this latest epistle from brother Stephen this past weekend, providing an update on how things are evolving for him.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Hey Brother,

Wanted to drop you a quick line and update you on the current siteeation around these parts. Oh, an' Happy (belated) Birthday too by the way!! Hope you all had a good time eatin' up there in big game country. [Loon Lake Lodge]

So yeah, as I told you, this week is going to be the 9-week boards, and I'll be a participant in the festivities. My suspicions of the 7-week showdown came to fruition, which was an experience in and of itself. It started mid-week, with an appearance in front of my ol' compadre, Major Kroll, as well as the rest of the company staff and my platoon staff. It consisted of me walking into his office, where he sat seated at his desk. Sitting in chairs surrounding the room were the rest of the big wigs of the company and platoon. So I was called in and marched front and center a few feet off his desk and was then bombarded with suspicions and accusations of my "continued trend of laziness and belligerence." About half the room took their turn, with Major Kroll having the final word. I responded to each with honesty and my own forthright assessments, which included my opinion that I have been inaccurately portrayed. I guess they didn't buy it, cuz both my platoon commander and company commander recommended me for disenrollment. This meant I had to go in front of the head of all honchos, Colonel Mancini, a few days later for the battalion board.

[See picture of Col. Mancini at right]

In the meantime, all of us up on the boards (which numbered about 20) were given a chance to call our OSOs (Officers Selection Officer), though for what I wasn't sure. Come to find out, we needed to update them on our situations and be given the required pep talk from them. Mine was pretty laissez-faire, apart from the good ol' "keep your head up and be confident" bit.

That Friday, I found myself, along with the 20 others, sitting in front of Colonel Mancini's office, awaiting the verdict. Again, we had to go into a room filled with big wigs, only this time, the battalion staff was added to the mix. The total numbered at around 12-15, though this time around all spectators were just that...there to scrutinize my every word and movement without saying a word. And once again, I marched into the Colonel's office and was asked to sit. I was happy about the chair too, I must say, cuz standing at attention for more than ten minutes can get your feet burning. Anyway, we went through the usual banter of why I was there, how do I explain myself, etc... Again, honesty was the name of the game, and I guess I said somethin' right cuz the Colonel decided to keep me on, at least for another two weeks. [Note: Stephen was taken off of all probationary status.]

So, here I am, after finishing week eight, which was a fun-filled week of bivouacking and 9-mile humping, endurance courses, and drilling. This week is winding down to the graduation festivities, though we have a few more physical activities to finish off before the finish-line, if I happen to make it that far.

[See Stephen, front right, in the accompanying photo]

Tomorrow, we'll be doing our final PFT (Physical Fitness Test), followed Tuesday by a Company Commander's inspection which consists of us in our dress Alpha uniforms and lookin' so fresh and so clean. Wednesday is our combat readiness test which involves us candidates dressed in our combat gear (Kevlar, war belt, H-harness, canteen, M-16, boots) and doing a 3-mile hike coupled with a buncha simulated combat obstacles. Ya know, the usual, climbing a 30-foot rope, crawling under barbed wire, doing a 50-yard fireman carry, and I can't even remember what else. Good stuff nonetheless. That'll be immediately followed by a pugil sticks contest in the woods with the other company. It'll be a 3-on-3, so it should be fun, especially cuz the Alpha Company crew are a buncha punks. :) We're fired up, that's for sure. That night, we're getting helicoptered over to the Basic School area where we're gonna set up a bivouac site, only to tear it down at midnight and go on our big finale, a 12-mile hump to the Basic School mess hall where we'll be having breakfast and going through an eagle, globe and anchor ceremony, which symbolizes our unofficial completion of training.

Somewhere in there, I'll be going up on the 9-week boards, so my schedule may differ from that of the rest. I'm figuring they'll be including us boarders on the bivouac and hump at the very least, but we'll see how it goes. I'm actually quite at peace about it all and have my continued faith that God is in control. In the meantime, I'm about to head back to OCS for another relaxing Sunday evening at the squadbay (a joke, by the way).

Anyway, hope all is well. You're all in my thoughts.

Love, Stephen

P.S. Tell Bull thanks for the correspondence, truly. I dug it.

As you can see, things have turned in a positive direction for Stephen. He told me over the phone that his interaction with Colonel Mancini and the rest of the battalion officers was quite intimidating, to say the least. But, he maintained his bearing with them, and was rewarded for his actions.

He is gradually nearing the end of his journey through OCS, so assuming he passes his 9-week board review, we are confident that we'll be able to celebrate his graduation ceremony with him in two weeks.

Letters from the Front: Turning up the heat

Well, friends, I got this latest email from my brother Stephen re. his OCS training experience about a week ago. But, given it's less-than-flattering nature, I withheld putting it up on the blog until I got his specific permission to do so. (He gave it.) Another rather lengthy read but as you'll see, it seems like things have taken a turn for him.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Hey John,

Another week, and another weekend liberty leave. This time around, however, the "leave" part has become a relative description, as it appears I won't be able to leave base for the rest of my time here at OCS, however long that may be.

It seems my mission to stay below the radar from the get-go has been a futile effort...from the get-go. I think I told you about the whole 5-week, 7-week, and 9-week boards they have here, which consist of review boards of marginal candidates who are brought in front of the battalion commander, Colonel Mancini, to plead their case and hope they don't get dropped.

As I told you last week, our platoon lost 8 to the week 5 board, leaving us at 30. Well, I obviously made it through that without a hitch, but this week has been a different matter altogether. Not to say that I'll be going up on the week 7 board, but the chances are looking increasingly likely. As I think I also told you, there are 3 different types of probation here, ranging from platoon probation, which has not real restrictions and is meant as a warning more than anything else. Then there's company probation which limits the candidate to on-base restriction. Then there's battalion probation which limits the candidate to the grounds of the OCS training facility. So, yeah, as of Thursday (Feb. 28), I was notified that I am now on platoon probation. It's a fact I wasn't too worried about, which may be one of the contributing factors to its implementation.

Anyway, the next day, Friday. I was notified that I am now on company probation. The reasons cited related to the continued trend of "laziness and belligerence," which I found both comical and angering. I had to go, once again, in front of good ol' Major Kroll, who gave me another quality one-sided conversation relating to my lackluster performance with respect to my platoon interactions. Quite honestly, I was dumbfounded by the accusations, and stood my defensive ground, cuz in reality, since the platoon consolidated to 30, I have been making conscious efforts to improve rapport with my fellow candidates in getting the various daily jobs done and even just getting to know more about them on a personal level.

Ironically, we had our second round of peer evaluations this week too, which is when you rate all members of your squad from 1-? (depending on the number in your squad, which at this point is 8 for me). You then write about the strengths and weaknesses of each candidate in your squad. Needless to say, I think my place in the squad has improved along with my efforts, though the results were not yet known prior to my company probation status. I'm hopin' that opens their eyes and loosens their opinions a bit, but we'll see.

As for the probation thing itself, I think the whole thing culminated on Thursday afternoon. The whole company had gone out for an overnight bivouac in the woods. That evening, we had our night navigation test, which I passed with flying colors. The next morning, each platoon divided into their respective squads and headed out for a mock patrol through the woods, complete with squad formations and navigations from one checkpoint to the next. I was the first squad leader to the checkpoint and made it without a hitch, including using the map and compass to navigate the terrain. It was pretty cool actually, and upon our arrival to the checkpoint, an "insurgent" in desert camo opened up on us from a bunker with his SAW-assault rifle. We buddy-rushed the enemy and all went well. I was "killed" during the assault, so another member of the squad was made squad leader until the next checkpoint, when a third led us to the final checkpoint. Needless to say, the other two leaders took us on the scenic route and had us marchin' up, down, and all around the woods until we haphazardly stumbled upon the checkpoints. One of the "insurgents", who is actually a sergeant evaluator, thought we were purposely trying to outflank him in order to surprise him. Little did he know, the squad leader didn't know where the heck he was. It was funny.

But during the movement, my platoon commander, who was our evaluator during the patrol, had me in his sights the whole time, yelling at me a couple of times for "lying down lazily" when commanded to find cover. I still don't know what that means, but it's the only reference I've ever heard to laziness in relation to me, so I gotta figure it was a factor.

As for the belligerence, the only references I have for that one are the few times where one of the staff members were yelling at me. Take last week, for example. One of the platoon commanders came up to me, as he does to many others as well, and told me how worthless I was, and a waste of time. Well, apparently, my reply of "No Sir! This candidate is not worthless, Sir!" was belligerent. It isn't the first time refused to accept my worthlessness, so I guess they've decided to test my persistence and push my back to the wall to see how I react. What angers me most is the blatant double standard that is applied, cuz there are numerous candidates who aren't nearly on the level yet who don't receive the limelight that I do. I guess they have me pegged for an anti-authority, arrogant (not to mention, lazy) person. Needless to say, I'll be doing what I can to prove them wrong. But man, it burns me up a bit.

What's worse, or better, is that I really do think Major Kroll likes me. Thus, he's made it his personal mission to push me to my limits...to see if I'm willing to do the hard hting and come out on top, or fold under the pressure. I'm not gonna be folding up the tent, and I know I'm not quitting. So if they want me out, they'll have to fight me for it. But I also know that sleep is still a top priority, cuz it is. I mean, if I wanted to shine, I could stay up all night preparing for this or that, but I'm an old man, man (relatively speaking, of course), and I do need my sleep. I think I average about 5 hours of sleep a night, which is better than many. So it's weighing and balancing of the various priorities. Give all that, if it's meant to be, it will be. I'm actually not sweating it too much, which again, may be a contributing factor to my recent downturn.

If I do make it to the end, then you'll have to come down here a bit early an' shoot the bull with ol' Major Kroll. Apparently, there's a family day, which is a day or two before the actual graduation ceremony. You get the chance to rub elbows with the staff and see how lazy and belligerent we candidates used be be. Hahaa.

Other than that, life is peachy. It's funny, though, as I think about it. I guess some things never change, as I can't ever seem to escape the wrath of authority figures, a trend started in kindergarten on up. Glad to see I still got it. Ha! Anyway, hope all is well our way. Keep those prayers goin', and not that I'll necessarily pass this thing, or be a huge success, but that God's will continues to unfold in my life. As I told Dad, if I broke my leg tomorrow and had to head home, the life lessons I have learned here are invaluable and will influence me for the duration. So I have no qualms about my future, whether short-term or long. All is good. And as I continue to hear about the events unfolding with my brothers back in Indiana, I hope you all find assurance in the same fact.

Anyway, I'm off for now. I love you, and thank you for your continued support, brother.

Love, Candidate Crane

Needless to say, this past week has the potential to be a deal-breaker in Stephen's quest to become a Marine officer. Once I get his latest epistle officially confirming the nature of his current status, I will let you know. In the meantime, keep him in your prayers. Thanks!

Letters from another Front: A Nurse's Story

I recently received here at The Daily Detour a brief description of one young nurse's experience in Vietnam, U.S. Army Captain Joan L. Brockman. The following rough draft was written as a contribution to an upcoming book on the Vietnam War. (WARNING: This account is somewhat graphic, so please exercise discretion with some of our younger TDD readers as you proceed.) I've added a few bracketed descriptors to make some of the Vietnam-era slang easier to understand. It will take a few minutes to read, but it is well-worth our time to gain a better perspective on the challenges faced by previous generations (and likewise, the similar challenges faced by our military men and women on the fields of battle today). It is a very powerful true story. Nurse Brockman writes,

Hitting adulthood was life maturing. Fulfilling a 3-year obligation in the U.S. Army was life changing. Serving as a nurse in Vietnam was life defining.

My assigned hospital was the 12th Evacuation Hospital, serving the 25th "Tropic Lightning" Division in Cu Chi. I was among the first group of nurses to staff the 12th, arriving in November, 1966. It was rainy season and we were bused from Saigon in dress greens and pumps, after being issued flak jackets when we arrived in country. Being off-loaded outside our hootches [living quarters], which required us traversing 6-12 inch water-filled ruts in our heels, was minor compared to what was to come.

Nurses are trained to care for people who are ill. I had spent my first year of service at Brooke Army Hospital in San Antonio, caring for people who had heart or lung surgery. Some of these folks had congenital problems, some had problems related to poor life choices. In RVN [Republic of Vietnam], ALL my patients had problems because of their nobility.

After setting up and supplying the 12th, I was assigned to the Post-Operation ward. Every patient who had had surgery came through our unit.

I remember our first patient. He'd developed a bleeding ulcer (stress, no doubt), and was literally vomiting up basins of blood. The challenge was infusing him fast enough to keep up with the bleed; then to the O.R.

Because of the trip wire mines that caused major damage below the waist, there were many gut wounds (it seemed everyone had their spleen taken out), and amputations. The support among the men was amazing. One would encourage the other. The guy with a lower leg gone would have a word for the guy whose leg was gone from the hip down. It was a rare privilege to be there and have a small part in their very long recovery process.

There were only 2 antibiotics in those days. No built up resistant organisms, so penicillin mixed with streptomycin did the trick. Because these were given intra-muscularly in the hips every 12 hours, I developed a technique where I'd give a small spank to the hip, the muscle would relax, and the needle would slip in. Most guys still had golf ball-sized injection sites by the time the medications were stopped.

Another soldier I recall also developed an ulcer just as he was being air-evacuated out of the country. He'd taken a hit in his back, and so, was a paraplegic (paralyzed from the waist down). He'd gotten married several weeks before shipping off for Vietnam, and now, was returning home to Brooklyn a very different young man. Stress ulcer?!? Indeed!

I remember another young hero who'd stepped on a mine, was blown up, and had little left below the waist. Because the "Dust-Off" pilots were able to evacuate from even hot "LZ's" [landing zones that were under fire], our men were saved with wounds that in earlier wars would have been fatal. When the choppers [helicopters] started coming in, we'd drop what were were doing (a la M.A.S.H.), put on our fatigues, boots, and report for duty. Our triage people did a wonderful job of prioritizing treatment of the wounded--for all men arrived with sweat and blood still wet on their uniforms.

The young man above who had been rescued so heroically died after being on our ward for 3 days.

Americans being Americans (and I believe, the most merciful people in history), we also took in Vietnamese civilians and the V.C. (Viet Cong) [the enemy combatants]. As nurses, we treated the patients professionally and courteously. The Vietnamese men were especially stoic. There was one who had received Heparin (a potent blood thinner) in the O.R. This dose had been taken from a x4 strength bottle, a major error. He was bleeding from every possible body opening, including the puncture made for his I.V. We had blood pressure cuffs on the blood bags to infuse as quickly as possible, trying desperately to stay ahead of the ooze. Going back to the O.R. on a gurney that looked like a red bathtub, he received a total body transfusion (expelling the Heparin) and returned alive. He probably survived that major insult to his body because his baseline hemoglobin was so naturally low due to a poor diet with little protein.

Vietnamese people in the villages were also treated by our nursing staff. Medical personnel would hitch a ride on a chopper and conduct informal clinics for these rural folks. They were most appreciative, and we were happy to be available to such a cross-section of the populace, even knowing that V.C. and V.C. sympathizers came through the lines for treatment.

Being a nurse in Vietnam has set the tone for the rest of my life. There were inconveniences for me as an American woman in a theater of war, but the heat, dust, and confinement were nothing compared to the experiences of the men wading through the rice paddies and crossing the jungles. In a feast or famine "who is the real enemy?" war, the men's desire to serve under oath (no matter the pressures)-- putting fear aside for duty--was ever humbling to me as a medical person. The high honor of being a small part of helping in their healing will always stay with me. Would I do it again?? In a heartbeat!!

I do have one major regret. Even though I was a Christian woman in those years, I had little to no idea of what it really meant to follow Jesus Christ.

Throughout that year overseas, I knew I took excellent care of the men's physical needs, but what they really needed was to have spiritual food for their souls.

I regret I couldn't tell them there was a Heavenly Father who had nothing but good in mind for them. No matter the extent of their wounds, it did not define them as men. All the positive things they could do with their lives were still in place, for "God knew the plans He had for them; plans to bless them, not to harm them; plans to give them hope and a future." I so wish I'd told them those words, but at the time, I did not know them myself.

This is the most detailed account I've ever heard of this young nurse's experience in Vietnam. It is one she has often kept private, except for when its sharing may bring help and healing to others. Captain Joan L. (Brockman) Crane is my mother. At the time of these events, She was 23 years old.

Be moved by this poignant reading. And don't forget to thank a veteran. For it is the sacrifices of so many forgotten veterans over the generations who have ensured the freedoms we enjoy today. Let us never forget the very high cost for which they were secured.

Letters from the Front: A 30th birthday to remember

On Saturday afternoon I was pleasantly surprised to talk with brother Stephen again while he enjoyed a special liberty reprive from OCS training. He told me that they let them actually go off base to a hotel. The biggest luxury, he said, was actually being able to sleep in (since they usually start waking the candidates up at 4:00 a.m.). He sent me another email summary of the latest highlights of training, including his 30th birthday "party" with Major Kroll. So, here's the latest installment from the front (another lengthy novella):

Sun., February 24, 2008

Hey brother,

So I figured I'd toss you a written follow-up to the good conversation we had yesterday.  Glad to hear about a bit of normalcy from this abnormal existence.  Nothin' like IU basketball to realign priorities. Ol' Sampson has nobody to blame but himself though, from the sound of it, which is dissappointing since he had such promise. C'est la vie.

Anyway, life around here is, well, "normal". This past week was a bit lighter than normal actually, as far as physical training was concerned. Mind you, we still managed to get out and do a confidence course, a Tarzan course (which was sweet, and involved a bunch of highwire ropes, ending with a zip line at the end), and an endurance course, which consisted of a 3 1/2 mile run in our boots and fatigues. We also ran with our M-16s which definitely added to the cumbersome crusade.

Similar to last week, the temperatures were hovering around freezing. But because we were running and keeping our core temperatures high, once we reached all the water obstacles, they didn't seem nearly as debilitating. I think it helped that we were only chest-high in them, as compared to last week when it was almost total submersion. But all in all, that run was actually enjoyable, since we were negotiating various obstacles along the way (ya know, the usual ... razor-wire crawls, the rope-assisted hill climbs, cargo nets, and the like). We ran this one with our squads, and the yells of enthusiasm increased with every obstacle overcome.

That run actually happened on my birthday, which coincided with the second day of my rotation as "candidate company commander," another birthday present for me that brought nothing but stress and hypertension. In that position, I was required to report to the actual company commander, Major Kroll, at various times throughout the day. He's an intimidating figure who, by all appearances, has no emotion, but rather a subtle scowl permanently affixed to his face. Needless to say, I "looked forward" to every occasion I could report to him.

By the evening of my birthday, which was my last day with the billet, I went to his office to report the numbers of the company. Well, my report turned into a 25-minute, one-sided "conversation" about me and my role in today's United States Marine Corps. The question wasn't "do I have what it takes," but rather, "do I WANT to have what it takes." Despite the lecture, it was a quality conversation. I was thankful for the feedback, cuz you know I live for those times when people drop to the level, and he certainly did that.

This week also brought the five-week board reviews. This is the half-way mark for our training, so this is the time they begin cutting off the proverbial "fat" from the platoons. Then, every other week, they do the same once again ... week 7 and week 9. In this round, my platoon lost 8 people, putting our number at 30 at this point. When you figure we started at 54, that number is staggering, and in fact, the platoon sergeant even mentioned that this was one of the smallest platoons he's encountered. And we're going to lose more too, so it'll be interesting to see who remains by the end.

Following this round of cuts, that same platoon sergeant made sure I was aware that "Crane, I've got my eye on you! You're in my scope! So you better be walking that fine line, Crane!" Nothing like losing the bottom dwellers to pull others under the lens of the microscope. I'm still not sure whether he likes me or hates me, cuz everything here is a test. So he's either testing me to see if I maintain my bearing and confidence despite the pressure, oooor, he really does hate me. Either way, I'm gonna keep on keepin' on. Good ol' Gunnery Sergeant Ream. :)

Little does [Gunnery Sgt. Ream] know, a group of us candidates were gathered outside the squad bay yesterday just after liberty had sounded, and we saw Gunnery Sgt. Ream drive away in his Honda Civic. Take a guess what I saw on the back of his bumper ... you got it, a Jesus fish! Hahahaaa! He's busted, and this symbol exposed a side unseen. While he may need to ask forgiveness this week, and in weeks prior, for the potty mouth he projects on a regular basis, I now know he's on the level. And I'm sure he wishes we remained unaware. But this fish sighting has given me a new perspective on this most intimidating character. Only time will tell how this mini-saga plays out. The Lord certainly works in mysterious ways.

Anyway, I'm off for now. I'm going to go jump in the hottub on this beautiful Sunday morning and enjoy a rare relaxing morning. Give my love to all, and I'll talk to you soon.

Love, Stephen

P.S. I've include a link to the OCS website where there are pictures of our training. The visual may help ground my descriptions with more detail than the written word allows. Here it is. Any pics you see where the candidates are wearing clothes with the C2 insignia are from my platoon. And I think there are a couple where I'm lookin' like deer in the headlights too. Happy viewing!

One final word before I sign off. Reading through this latest letter from Stephen reminded of the many men and women who spend their holidays, including birthdays, overseas away from friends and family. And they do so in order that I, and the rest of us here in America, can safely celebrate the birthdays of our 3-year olds here at home. Thank you all for that gift!

Letters from the Front: ICEscapades OCS style

I was up late Saturday night/Sunday morning and was pleasantly surprised to find an email in the inbox from "Candidate Crane". I thought you might want to find out how things are going, since his last letter. (Be forewarned, his fingers apparently thawed out, because this one is lengthy. But it's well worth the read--and not just because he's my brother. :) Enjoy this "in the trenches" perspective!

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Hey John,

As always, thanks for the letters...as for the daily detour topic of "Letters from the Front", by all means, throw whatever you wish in there.

I'm on a 26-hour liberty leave, so I got access to a computer and figured I'd drop another line, only virtual this time.

So this week has been long and strenous, that's for sure. It started out on Monday with commando crawl applications out in the field. The temperatures outside were just below the freezing mark by the time we got out there, after a night in the mid-20's.

So we walk up to this training site and see 3 sets of 4 parallel ditches dug into the ground, each about 15-20 yards long, and each filled with the dirtiest water you've ever seen...straight outta the swamp. As we looked closer, we saw that the sergeants had done us the courtesy of clearing all the ice that had formed the previous night and pushed it onto the sides of the ditches. Meanwhile, razorwire was strewn across the length of each ditch. The goal was to crawl on our stomachs through the first set, on our backs through the second set, and on the third set, we were to use our rifles to lift the wire that was hanging below the waterline, clearing the path for the rest of the fire squad, which consists of four people. Thus, we each get a ditch on the first two sets, and then converge on the third for the wire clearing exercise.

We knew were were in for it when the four low-level sergeants who demonstrated the movements came outta the third set shivering uncontrollably. And you could tell they were trying their hardest not to let on the extent of the frigidity.

So we line up for the drill, after dividing into fire teams. We each aligned to our respective ditches and dove in. All the air in my body left in an instant, and I knew, for the first time in my life, what people experience when they hyperventilate. It took more than a moment for me to control my breathing and regain my faculties, the water was that cold.

It's amazing how the thought processes become so distorted due to that kind of physical stimulation. It was a struggle to think of much more than "Get me outta here!" But in order to do that, we had to negotiate our faces, and our rifles under the 3-4 inch gap between the waterline and the razorwire, which isn't as easy as it sounds under the circumstances.

Some guys came out with hands all cut up due to the fact that they freaked out and gave themselves more room to breathe, the hard way...by pushing the wire up with their hands. As for me, I just fumbled my way through, wide-eyed and short of breath. But by the third one, my body had numbed enough to where my focus had returned and the mission was carried out without much incident, apart from the fact that I could barely muster the strength to clear the chamber after my M-16 jammed at the end of the revolution. I couldn't tell that my fingers were actually touching it, save for the fact that I could see that they were. A very strange sensation indeed...controlling the body without the normal sensory feedback. Needless to say, I cleared the weapon and continued firing the rest of my blanks at the mock enemy.

Then my fire team humped it [hiked] the half-mile back to the squad bay, where we jumped under the hot showers. Everybody was screaming as the feeling returned to our extremities, since that feeling was the dull pain that accompanies frozen fingers and toes, not to mention the muscle cramps in the legs that set in as well. Some guys couldn't even make the hump back though, and apparently, 8 or 9 guys from the company had to be hospitalized with hypothermia.

The next day, Alpha Company did the same application, minus the water revolution. I guess the higher ups figured it wasn't such a good idea after seeing what we Charlie Company guinea pigs went through the day before. So yeah...that was Monday!

Then came Tuesday. We were scheduled for a Tuesday night bivouac out in the woods with the whole company, numbering around 200 guys or so. Well, the weather was worse Tuesday, though the temperatur was now in the low 30's. But it was raining throughout the afternoon and into the evening which made life miserable.

On top of that, we were set to do a night compass navigation course before returning to our tents, which was actually kinda fun since I had never navigated with a compass before, let alone at night. It went well, but by the time we returned to our tents, a nice layer of ice had formed over all of our tents, and the freezing rain continued to fall. We decided to let the ice be, hoping it would add an igloo-like layer of insulation. But by the time we awoke at 4:00 a.m., the rain that had been falling all night was still falling. And apparently the tent my buddy and I had was sitting in a low area, cuz the thing was floating on about 4 inches of rain water. Any movement produced a ripple effect, similar to the ol' waterbed. Not to mention the fact that we had stored our boots just outside the door, though under the rain fly where they'd be "protected". We hadn't accounted for 4 inches of water though, so they were nice an' wet for us by the time we awoke.

The gunnery sergeants had no sympathy for anybody and were yelling by 4:45 for all of us to get our butts outta our tents and tear'm down in mere minutes. So there we were, scurrying around in our rain-soaked gear, with red-beamed flashlights, trying to get everything packed back up into our 60-lb. packs. Then it was off on a 6-mile hump through the woods. But at least when daybreak finally came, there was a beautiful layer of ice on all the trees, even if the rain did continue to fall. But the hump went well, despite the circumstances. And we were all bonded in our misery, though I'm not looking to bond again in that respect anytime soon. Good stuff man!

The rest of the week was filled with same ol' same ol'...physical training, classes, yelling, and drill. It culminated today, our liberty day, with a class this morning on "homosexual conduct", followed by drill, which included a platoon-wide essay punishment on "the importance of close order drill". Apparently, we were being lazy, but I think he'd been saving that up for us, knowing we were getting ready to go on liberty. So I have that on the agenda for tomorrow, since it's due by 7:00 p.m. tomorrow night.

On a "brighter" note, I'm scheduled to work alongside the company commander, Major Kroll, as the candidate company commander this Wednesday and Thursday, which means I'm "officially" in charge of the entire company--four platoons. Not sure how I got that billet, but I'm gonna give it a go and shoot for the stars. (Actually, I'll settle for a marginal, which is one of the three categories they assess you on around here--favorable, marginal, and unfavorable.) It seems they tend to give those assignments to either people who know what they're doing, or people who haven't a clue, which will provide them with the necessary evidence to demonstrate a candidate's lack of leadership ability and thus, boot him out during the week 5, 7, or 9 review boards. I'm certainly not one who knows what I'm doing as of yet, but I'll be talking to the priors (enlisted) early in the week and try to get a handle on it all. Nothing to lose, that's my philosophy. Just keep tryin' to do what I can do. Anyway, pray extra hard those couple of days that I won't make a total fool outta myself. A partial fool is acceptable, but not a total one.

So yeah, that's the latest from these parts. Hope all is well in your neck o' the woods.

Oh, and another thing. Please don't refer to me as a Marine yet, in any way, shape, or form. I still don't know if I'll make it from week to week, let alone for the duration, so until then, I'm simply a lowly candidate, undeserving of the title. I'm just trying to do what I can, that's about it. It's truly a rollercoaster of emotions around here. And given my personality and history, I'm still tryin' to see if this round character fits into the square holes that await a future Marine officer.

But anywho, other than that, all is good. Oh, and thank you guys for the Valentine's stuff. I'm lovin' the artwork from the little big men, and I'm glad to see that their penmanship has improved so dramatically in mere weeks. Hahaa! No, but thank you, truly. Anyway, I love you all, and will continue to keep you updated.

Love, Stephen, -er, I mean, Candidate Crane

May we all be thankful for a warm bed tonight and remember those who serve on our behalf who don't have that luxury. Until next time...

UPDATE: I talked with my dad today who said that Stephen had shared the rest of the story with him. After going through the icy ditches, the candidates hiked back to the base, showered up, and were taken into the classroom. Once there, the camp commanders read the military citations from some of our country's Medal of Honor winners. Hearing about the demands and sacrifices of those military heroes put the icy ditch experience into perspective.

Letters from the Front: Introduction to OCS

As I shared with you all a few weeks ago, my youngest brother Stephen just headed off to OCS in the Marine Corps. I've been keeping in touch with him regularly and told him that we'd love to hear how he's doing (though I wasn't expecting him to write back, given the demands of the program). Well, we were pleasantly surprised to get a letter from him on Friday, so I decided to add a new category entitled, "Letters from the Front" as way to keep you all updated on how he's doing. Also, I wanted to share portions of it with you, to give the uninitiated among us a better sense of what our military men and women face in training. "Candidate Crane" writes,

Tues, Feb. 5, 2008

Hey John!

How is it brother?! First off, thanks for the letters. It's nice getting a taste of home in this wholly other existence. The only other chances to get grounded are during chapel services (which is always moving, in a surreal sort of way), during the 5-second prayer before meals I say to myself and during the couple of minutes of "evening devotions" we have while standing at modified attention w/ heads bowed in front of our racks, all lined up the length of the squad bay.

It's interesting how there's a palpable undercurrent of old-fashioned faith, as well as, a more obvious emphasis on the principles that follow. Notions of honor and integrity are as important, if not more so, than physical or intellectual ability. We already lost one guy from our platoon for, what I believe, was an honest-mistake fib. But they booted him the next day after calling a special review board about the incident.

For me, the biggest adjustment has been the control I've been forced to relinquish, and I don't mean just following orders, I mean total control! For 16 hours a day! I can't look anywhere unless they say. I can't scratch my face unless I sneak it. I've been forced to eat with my right hand for the past two weeks and will have to continue the practice for the duration. It's about uniformation, lefties be damned! They do feed us well, though I think they put something in the food cuz my gas, which is normally pretty mild, has started a brass band, along with the other guys in the platoon. We'll be marching and you can hear bombs being dropped throughout the cadence. It's funny, or at least, I would have said so in my former life. Smiles and smirks are not allowed.

Punishments range from push-ups (mostly for letting your M16 hit the ground), to bag holds in which backpacks are held straight out at various angles for various amounts of time. Those are the worst, particularly cuz the reason we're generally doing them is because of the actions of one guy. That's been a surprise...seeing some of the other knuckleheads that have been accepted into the OCS. Mind you, they're the exception, but we certainly have a handful that keep us with our backpacks readily available. I now understand why you see recruits in the movies soaping the weaklings in the middle of the night. Ya know, similar to our rocks in the socks from the U-Haul, only with soap! HaHa! Nah, but it is frustrating, though the point of it isn't lost. The whole "only as strong as your weakest link" stuff...unit cohesion, etc...

As far as the other punishments, they give us "chits" on the regular too, which are pretty much a half page citation for some violation of some rule that may or may not have existed prior to their accusation. The bottom half is where we give an explanation of our actions (or inaction as the case may be). I've gotten a number of them already but am excited that I've only received 1 in the past 3 days. That's a record for me. Mind you, everyone gets them on a fairly regular basis, so I ain't alone in that. I've also had to write one essay for not "sounding off loud enough" during a particular drill movement we were trying to learn. But shoot, it was all I could do to figure out the steps, let alone the ditty that accompanied them. That stuff ain't easy and is a totally foreign activity for me. It's all good though, and I can see the importance of that too.

Anyway, I"ll probably sign off for now. Gotta wake up at 4 a.m. to pack for an overnight bivouac in the woods tomorrow night. It's our first, so it should be cool.

Keep the lil' prayer warriors prayin' for Uncle Stephen's body. I'm rollin' on a strained hamstring, a pulled calf muscle, some weird bump on my elbow, and a numb big left toe (don't know what that's all about, but it doesn't hurt, so whatever). Other than that, I feel pretty good! Nah, but pray for God's continued hand and guidance. That's all I ask. Give the guys a BIG hug for me and thank Jean for the photo of course! I love you all. Oh, I heard about the Super Bowl! I was 'lovin' it! Either Manning works for me. Anyway, I'll talk to ya soon.

Love, Candidate Crane

I'll leave the commentary to him, except to say it's always valuable for us civilians to get even a small glimpse into the kind of training that equips our military men and women to protect the way of life we so often take for granted. God bless you, "Candidate Crane", and all of those who train with you tonight!

UPDATE: Speaking of Marines, tonight's edition of Extreme Makeover Home Edition provides a home for United States Marine, Daniel Gilyeat, and his four children. He volunteered for a second tour of duty in Iraq and lost his leg. (You can read more about this inspiring Marine hero here, as well as, this blog post from EMHE's Paige Hemmis. Also, don't miss this emotional video.)

UPDATE: Here's another Marine commercial video (which debuted this past Sunday) you don't want to miss. An inspiring image that confirms the bumper sticker slogan, "Sleep well, America, my Marine's got your back."